If it was my sister being bullied, Mom and Dad would have believed her right away and fought for her without a second thought.

However, it did not matter anymore. In my next life, I would pick parents who really cared about me.

It hurt.

I was floating in the air, looking down at myself lying on the hospital bed.

Tubes were inserted all over my body.

My heartbeat was faint, and my face was pale.

My parents were standing by the bed, looking exhausted.

My mom started to complain, "Just a few words could make her jump out of the window. I didn't even say anything wrong. How could she ever measure up to Jenny?"

Yes, I had never been able to compare to my elder sister.

I could not even manage to die properly. I was only wasting medical resources.

My dad lowered his voice and stopped her.

"Enough. Stop talking like that. The child is in this state, and you're still complaining?! We've already lost Jenny. Do you want to lose Nessa, too? We're getting old. Having another child would be difficult now. You wouldn't want to grow old with no one to care for you, would you?"

So, was I only a replacement and a tool for their old age?

They refused to believe me when I told them.

Perhaps it would be better if I died already.

I watched them as they were called into the doctor's office, and I floated along, following them.

The doctor was wearing a serious expression.

"Dr. Stone, the patient's condition is not looking good. She's sustained injuries all over, and her will to live is weak. Is there anything that could stimulate her? Try talking to her more. If this continues, I'm afraid she won't make it."

They nodded repeatedly and went home.

When they returned, they brought with them several of my diaries.

…

Mom impatiently flipped open my elementary school diary and began to read aloud softly.

June 1, 2010

My name was Nessa Stone.

A relative once told me that I was born because of a final wish from my sister, Jenny Stone before she died.

"I want to be Mom's child again in my next life."

That was how I came into this world.

Aside from the mole near one of my eyes, I had always been different from Jenny.

Her favorite color was pink, and mine was blue.

For the sister I had lost, and in hopes that my parents might love me just a little more, I quietly wore pink, even though it was not what I truly wanted.

Even though the love they gave me was meant for my sister, I would still be happy.

All I had were my mom and dad.

Until today, on Children's Day.

My deskmate Megan had a beautiful blue dress that I could not take my eyes off. Megan noticed how much I liked it, and after the performance, she offered to swap it with me so I could wear it for a while.

I was too shy to go outside, so I hid in the bathroom to secretly put it on. Megan complimented me. She said I looked beautiful and that blue was perfect on me. She even wanted to take a few pictures.

Just as I was striking a pose, Mom found me and exploded in anger.

She ripped the dress off me.

I cried loudly.

After the other kids found out about this, they kept their distance whenever they saw me.

Dad let out a sigh when he heard what happened.

Mom stubbornly argued, "Whenever I see blue, it takes me back to the day Jenny had her accident. It was the same exact color. She was only seventeen, and she hadn't even gotten to live her life, and she was gone just like that. Blue always freaks me out because of it."

It was not because of fear.

It was only because my sister did not like blue.

However, even if I wore the same color as my sister…

I still could not be as bright as her.

…

The next day, Dad read it to me.

April 25, 2010

The math test papers were handed out.

I only scored in the low 80s.

With a look of disappointment, the teacher said, "If it had been Jenny, she would've definitely gotten a perfect score."

I had really tried my best.

After school, I didn't dare go home. Not getting a perfect score meant I would not be allowed to eat.

I wandered aimlessly outside, hoping it would get late enough so I could return when no one would notice.

Suddenly, a strange man approached me. I ignored him, remembering what the teacher had told us—never talk to strangers.

When he realized I was not responding, he seemed frustrated and suddenly grabbed me, lifting me toward a nearby corner. I was terrified, screaming and struggling with all my might.

Just then, a boy shouted at him, "Where are you taking my sister? If you don't let her go, I'll go get my dad!"

The boy pointed to a man in the distance, and the stranger immediately let me go and ran off in a hurry.

The boy told me not to be scared and asked why I was not home yet. I then told him everything.

He comforted me, "You did great on the test. I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you being out so late. And even if they love your sister more, that doesn't mean they don't love you at all. They're just not good at showing it. Don't worry, I'll walk you home."

After listening to the boy's words, a flicker of hope lit up inside me. How could they not love me at all, right?

The boy walked me to my doorstep, and I felt unease and anticipation.

…

As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Mom standing there.

When she saw me being brought home, her face was full of worry as she pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Nessa, where have you been? I've been so worried!"

Was this a dream? Could it be that Mom did care about me? The boy was right. Mom still loved me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and her embrace felt so warm.

"It was the boy who brought me home."

As I told her what happened, her expression shifted from worry to anger, but when she looked at me, there was nothing but affection in her eyes!

The boy left, leaving Mom in a flurry of thanks and gratitude.

I gently closed the door and turned around, only to see Mom's dark, stormy face.

The hopeful look in my eyes quickly faded when I saw the long ruler in her hand.

She grabbed and yanked me over, rifling through my backpack until she pulled out my test paper.

When she saw the score, her face twisted with anger.

"87 only? How many times have I told you? You need to score 100! A hundred! What's wrong with you? Why can't you get a perfect score? Is it really that hard? Why can't you be like your sister?! You're nothing like my child!!"

It was all a lie. Everything was a lie. Mom was just putting on a show for the boy. She did not love me at all.

I hugged myself, staring blankly at the floor.

I was so stupid. Maybe I really was not Mom's child. Perhaps that was why I could not get a hundred. And that was why Mom didn't love me.

Yes, that must be it.

How could there be a mother who did not love her own child?

If a mother truly loved her child, would she treat them like this?

Where was my real mother? When would she come and find me?

…

After Dad read my papers, he remained silent for quite a while before speaking up.

"Even though Nessa isn't as good as Jenny, you promised me you'd take good care of her. In a family like ours, with all the education we have, it'd be so embarrassing if the others found out."

It would be so embarrassing if the others found out. How ridiculous.

Was reputation really more important than their kids?

Mom scoffed and said assertively, "I'm doing this for her own good. If Jenny could get full marks, she should too! That's the way it should be. She should be like Jenny!"

…

Dad did not respond, silently agreeing with Mom's words.

I honestly was not as good as my sister. I could not bring pride to him. No one would ever say to Dad that he was such a great professor and he had raised such an exceptional daughter.

Whenever my others saw me, they would shake their heads with a sigh, with their faces full of regret as they said,

"Ah, I feel sorry for you. Jenny was such an outstanding girl!"

"Nessa just isn't as capable as her sister, sigh…"

"Jenny was directly admitted to Harvard University back then. She was such a promising young talent, and she was beautiful too."

I started becoming increasingly curious about my sister's brilliance.

I tried to piece together who she was from the scattered words of the elders.

My curiosity grew stronger.

I wanted to visit Jenny's room and look around.

However, Mom would never allow anyone in there. She even did all the cleaning herself.

Curiosity killed the cat.

One afternoon, driven by some unknown impulse, I found myself in that room.

…

Dad, with a dry mouth, quickly drank a glass of water before tossing the diary to Mom.

Mom casually flipped it open and began reading aloud.

September 27, 2013

Mom did not lock Jenny’s room today, and I finally had the chance to go inside.

Jenny’s room, like mine, was decorated in pink.

Everything was neat. There was not a speck of dust on the desk.

In the corner, there was a beautiful ballet dress hanging on a mannequin.

The widest wall was covered with certificates and awards.

Several trophies of all sizes were on the desk, stacked with piles of honor certificates.

Jenny was amazing. She had so many accolades, while I never received anything like that.

There were also many framed photos on the desk, carefully arranged.

Some were of Jenny, some with her and Mom, some with her and Dad, and some with all three of them together.

They were all smiling brightly. They had never smiled at me that way.

I did not have any solo photos or family pictures like that.

Just as I was lost in thought, Mom suddenly came back.

She saw me in Jenny’s room.

…

She stormed into the room, her voice raw with fury as she shouted at me.

“Who allowed you to come into Jenny’s room?! I’ve never allowed you to go in there! You’re not worthy of being in Jenny’s room! You saw it all, right? Look at how amazing she was. All those certificates, trophies, and honors! She’s the pride of my life, my treasure, a gift from heaven! And you... you’re nothing but trash! A disgrace! I should never have had you! You’ll never be as good as your sister!”

I clung to Mom, crying as I begged her.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone into Jenny’s room, but I just wanted a little bit of your love, Mom! All you ever see is Jenny. Don’t you see how hard I’ve tried just for a little bit of affection from you? Because of her, I’m stuck wearing pink, even though I like blue. I tried to be just like her in everything, but none of that matters. It’s just so hard to get even a tiny bit of love from you. Mom, I’m your child too. Can’t you love me just a little?”

By the time I finished speaking, I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe.

Mom only shrugged off my arms. Her eyes were cold and hard as she looked at me and said, “Jenny is my only daughter. My love will always be for her, and not a single bit of it will go to anyone else, even if she’s gone. The fact that you’re still alive, living in Jenny’s shadow, enjoying what belongs to her... you should be grateful. If I’d known you’d turn out like this, I might as well have strangled you when you were born.”

…

Mom cut off my allowance, and when I asked her for it, she just sneered and said, “Aren’t you all grown up now, thinking you can do everything on your own? Since you’re so full of yourself, go earn your own living. I won’t give you a single cent!”

Dad did not say anything, either. He just let it happen.

For the next week, I had to watch my classmates have lunch while the delicious smell of food filled the air. My stomach would growl so loud it caught people’s attention, and all I could do was awkwardly tell them that I was not hungry.

Another lunch came, and I fainted from hunger.

Dad was called to the office because Mom refused to show up.

He was furious, mostly because he was embarrassed.

A university professor had to go to the school office because his child fainted from hunger.

When Dad came home, he started lecturing Mom with his usual air of superiority. However, Mom quickly shot back, telling him not to blame her since he was there too. He was pissed off and reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, all flustered and defensive. The two of them had a huge argument, shouting back and forth. From then on, I never had to worry about my allowance being cut again.

After reading all that, Mom still did not think she had done anything wrong. She defended herself, “I’m just trying to teach her a lesson. She needs to know who’s in charge around here. No rules, no order! Let’s see if she ever dares to step into Jenny’s room again! And so what if she missed a few meals? She won’t die from it. Everyone’s gone through that, right? Who’s ever died from hunger? Let her feel what it’s like, so she learns a lesson!”