Chapter 1When the Number Vanished, So Did My Parents’ Love

I spoke for the first time when I was five.

Pointing at the little boy next door, I called out the number floating above his head.

“Two.”

My parents had no idea what I meant.

Two days later, the boy was hit by a car while riding his skateboard in the street.

He died instantly.

My parents dismissed it as a coincidence.

Then my grandma had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor told us there was nothing more he could do.

“She won’t make it through the night. You should start making arrangements.”

I spoke for the second time.

Pointing at my grandma, I said, “One hundred eighty.”

They brought her home, and to everyone’s surprise, she began to recover.

Exactly 180 days later, she passed away peacefully.

That was when my family finally realized the numbers I saw were counting down to people’s deaths.

Afraid of the trouble my ability might bring, they warned me never to reveal another number.

Then, on my sixth birthday, I looked in the mirror and saw one floating above my own head.

“1,095.”

Exactly three years.

My parents’ faces went white.

From that day on, I always got the best food and the prettiest clothes.

Whenever we went to an amusement park, they even left my little sister behind so they could focus entirely on me.

One day, she asked timidly, “Can I come with you too?”

My parents gently reassured her.

“Be good. Cece doesn’t have much time left. Let Mommy and Daddy spend this time with her.”

The three years passed quickly.

On my ninth birthday, Dad hired a performer dressed as my favorite character, and Mom kissed my forehead through her tears.

I blew out the candles.

Then I went to my room, lay down, and obediently closed my eyes.

The clock struck midnight.

Sobbing drifted in from outside my room.

I felt my heartbeat, opened my eyes, and happily ran out.

“Mom! Dad! I didn’t die!”

They froze.

Then, little by little, the warmth drained from their faces.

* * *

The crying in the living room stopped.

My little sister froze. Then she pulled the lollipop from her mouth and held it out to me with a wounded look.

“You can have it, Cece.”

She’d been giving me whatever I wanted for three years. The gesture had become second nature.

But this time, Mom stopped her halfway and pushed the lollipop back into her hand.

“Cecilia Miller, what’s going on?”

Her expression was stern, with a hint of anger at having been made a fool of.

I nervously twisted the hem of my shirt between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

I pointed at the red number above my head in the mirror.

“It already reached zero.”

Mom’s brow furrowed.

For the first time, she questioned whether I’d been telling the truth.

“Can you really see those numbers?

“Or have you been lying this whole time?”

Before she could finish, Dad cut her off.

He looked at me, then at the clock on the wall, and let out a long sigh.

“The 1,095th day isn’t over yet.

“Let’s give it one more day. We’ll wait until midnight tonight.”

Mom said nothing, but she accepted his explanation.

For the rest of the day, they treated me the way they always had.

They woke me up and made sure I ate.

Dad still gave me the largest chicken drumstick.

Mom still took the remote from my sister and switched the TV to my favorite cartoon.

Only my sister seemed confused.

She kept tugging at Mom and asking the same question over and over.

“Why hasn’t Cece died yet?”

Mom patted her back.

“Just wait a little longer.”

Everyone still acted as though I came first.

But something had quietly changed.

At eleven fifty that night, my entire family gathered around my bed.

Dad tucked the blanket around me.

“Cece, if you miss us, come visit Mommy and Daddy in our dreams.”

My sister placed a new lollipop in my palm.

“Goodbye, Cece.”

Mom gently brushed the loose strands of hair from my forehead. Her voice finally softened.

“Cece, we’ve treated you well these past three years. You can go in peace.”

I nodded and closed my eyes.

The room became so quiet that I could hear the minute hand ticking.

Then the clock struck midnight.

Nothing happened.

I kept breathing steadily.

My heart continued beating.

No accident came to claim me.

Clutching the hem of my shirt, I cautiously opened my eyes.

The number above my head had changed to negative one.

Mom’s face twisted with rage.

She raised her hand high above me.

“I knew she was lying!”