Chapter 2My Late Sister

After no less than a dozen check-ups, my brother, Fred, was finally allowed to take me home.

The doctor instructed him to start me on some soft, pureed foods.

"Open up, Willa. Here comes the airplane…"

Fred held a tiny spoon, patiently trying to feed me some creamed chicken porridge. I obediently opened my mouth and took a small taste.

A smile touched his lips. My sister is so good.

The next second, I spat it all out.

A mess of saliva and porridge dribbled down my chin and onto my clothes, leaving a nasty stain. Fred fumbled for a napkin, frantically trying to clean me up.

The comments exploded.

【Dude, get the kid a bib! Toddlers are messy!】

【Why'd she spit it out? Was it too salty?】

【No way, the cook didn't add any salt.】

【See? I told you she was a burden. Can't even eat properly.】

【If you don't like it, get lost. Don't ruin the mood.】

【Maybe it was too hot? My puppy spits out his food when it's too hot.】

【Nah, I saw Fred check it with a thermometer before he fed her.】

Fred frowned, staring at the bowl in his hands. He'd had an eating disorder since he was a kid. More than once, he'd survived only thanks to an IV drip. Getting him to willingly eat something was harder than pulling teeth.

But his sister had just rejected the food.

After a long hesitation, he still couldn't bring himself to try it. He waved over the butler, Mr. Evans, who tasted a spoonful.

"Not too hot, not too salty, perfectly smooth. There's nothing wrong with it, Master Fred."

Fred cautiously offered me another spoonful.

I took it into my mouth, and then promptly spat it all out again.

His expression slowly darkened. He stared at the bowl of porridge with the intensity of a man facing his executioner, a storm of emotions churning in his eyes. The floating comments were already placing bets on whether he'd actually taste it.

My flailing hand slapped him across the cheek.

He let out a long, defeated sigh.

With a look of pure resignation, he opened his mouth and swallowed a large spoonful of the porridge.

Before I could even celebrate, his face turned pale. He shot up from his chair and bolted for the bathroom. I could hear the violent sounds of him retching from the living room.

When Fred returned, his eyes were ringed with red. Seeing my curious gaze, he forced a smile and brought the spoon to my lips again.

"It's okay, Willa. Big brother tried it, it's really yummy. How about one more bite?"

I stared at him, obediently took a mouthful, and spat it all out.

The living room plunged into a dead silence.