Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

The pain in my abdomen grew more and more intense, but I told no one. Somewhere deep inside, I felt this might be my final destination.

Since my sister hadn’t been discharged, my parents hadn’t arranged for my discharge either.

With the hospital beds in high demand and me being the donor, there was no need for me to stay long. So I had no choice but to sleep on the bench in the hospital, waiting for my sister to be released, hoping to go home with my parents.

Another week passed this way. Late one night, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen again, and I collapsed in the hallway.

Half-conscious, I felt someone urgently lifting me onto a stretcher and rushing me toward the operating room.

“There’s an infection at the surgical site; we need to perform an emergency procedure immediately. This is the patient from bed 25, the kidney donor, related to the family in room 101. Find their family quickly,” the doctor said, his voice anxious.

“They were discharged this morning, and we haven’t been able to reach them,” the nurse replied, hesitant.

So my sister had been discharged this morning, and they forgot to call me. I wanted to go home too.

My consciousness grew fainter, my soul seeming to drift away from my body.

But perhaps that was for the best. The family didn’t need another daughter anyway. Now that my sister was well, I could leave. They could live happily ever after, just the three of them. I wondered if they would ever think of me again. At least I had given a kidney for my sister.

My soul finally separated from my body. I floated above, watching the doctors desperately trying to save me. Only when the line on the monitor went flat did they, exhausted, lower their instruments.

Luckily, I had left a note in my clothes. Otherwise, my death might have caused trouble for the doctors who tried so hard to save me.

I wanted to take one last look at myself, but suddenly, a bright light flashed before my eyes, and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself on a beautiful island— the very place my sister had always dreamed of visiting, and one I had secretly longed for, too. So, this is what it’s like to fulfill your last wish after death.

“Allie, hurry up! Didn’t you always want to see the ocean?” Dad’s voice called out.

I turned around to see my parents holding my sister’s hands, walking along the beach. Their faces were full of joy and contentment, especially Allie, who radiated with the happiness of a new lease on life. She gazed at the endless blue sky and sea, her eyes shimmering with countless lights.

Mom smiled lovingly, caressing Allie’s face. “My darling Allie, you’ve finally seen the ocean. How about we take you to explore an even wider world next?”

Instinctively, I waved to greet them, but in the next moment, they walked right through me, heading towards the shore to splash water at each other, enjoying their perfect family time.

I watched the happy family of three, and an ache welled up inside me. Bitterly, I wondered: if they knew I was dead, would they still be so carefree?

The answer came almost immediately. No, of course not. My parents would never grieve for my death. As long as Allie was happy, they were happy.

“Mom, does my sister know we’re out playing?” Allie suddenly asked.

“Allie, why bring up that downer? She’ll find her way home once she realizes we’re not there. Don’t bother with her. We’re here to have fun, and your happiness is all that matters!” At the mention of me, Mom’s tone turned noticeably displeased. She always hated me, didn’t she? Maybe now that I’m gone, she could finally feel a bit happier.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Alright!” Allie agreed with a smile, not giving me a second thought.

They spent a week happily by the seaside. When my sister, feeling exhausted, said she wanted to go home and rest, Mom promptly bought return tickets, and they went home that very day. My spirit followed them back.

On the way from the airport, Mom instructed Dad to call home and have me prepare dinner so that my sister could have a meal as soon as they arrived and rest comfortably.

Dad dialed my number.

“The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and dial again…” Dad hung up impatiently and dialed again, only to be met with the same cold, electronic voice. Muttering under his breath, he complained, “Why isn’t she answering?”

But I was already dead; how could a corpse answer the phone or prepare a meal to welcome them home?

Mom noticed Dad’s frustration and asked, “What’s wrong? Can’t you get through?”

“Farah’s phone is off. She’s not answering.”

“Really, she’s gotten so wild; she dares to turn off her phone and ignore us. Just wait until I get home and deal with her!” Mom’s anger flared. I floated beside her and tried to comfort her, “Don’t be upset, Mom. I’m already gone; there’s no one left to annoy you.”