I Gave Birth to a Pair of Twins

I had twin daughters.

My younger daughter was a sweet-talker who cried easily, always throwing a fit to get her sister's things.

My older daughter never caused trouble. She was quiet and obedient, so I inevitably neglected her.

After my younger daughter got married, I ran myself ragged taking care of her. Her dowry was more than double her sister's.

Who would have thought that in her heart, I wasn't even as close to her as a nanny.

Worse, the moment I was diagnosed with cancer, she turned around and demanded to cut all ties with me.

Instead, it was my older daughter who cared for me day and night, using all her savings to pay for my medical treatments.

When I opened my eyes again, I didn't hesitate to put the chicken drumstick in my older daughter's bowl.

I turned to my younger daughter. "What's there to cry about? You're going to tear this family apart with all your crying!"

1

When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't quite process what was happening.

The cold hospital ceiling was gone, as was the monotonous sea of blue and white.

Instead, I was in my own bedroom. I surveyed the decor, unable to snap out of my daze for a long time.

There was a sound from outside, and the nanny knocked on my door. "Madam, the young ladies are back."

I stepped out of the room and looked at the familiar yet foreign surroundings.

My younger daughter, Julia Thorne, was already on the sofa munching on an apple. My older daughter, Joyce Thorne, came through the door, neatly arranged the shoes they had both taken off, then turned to give me a sweet smile.

"Good afternoon, Mom."

I nodded and looked over at Julia Thorne. She had her feet propped up on the coffee table and was complaining, "Why didn't you come pick me up, Mom? I wanted to show my classmates our new car today."

Just last week, I'd bought a new car, and my younger daughter had been pestering me to drive it to pick her up from school.

But the car was a two-seater sports car. If I picked one of them up, the other would have to walk home.

"I wasn't feeling well, so I didn't want to go out. Now, take your feet down."

My younger daughter pouted and put her feet down. Meanwhile, my older daughter, who had been quiet the whole time, walked over to my side.

"Mom, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well? Should we see a doctor?"

I remembered my past life, how everyone distanced themselves from me after I got cancer.

Only my older daughter, the one I'd always neglected, stayed with me. At the slightest sign of trouble, she would immediately call a doctor and pace anxiously by my side.

In contrast, my younger daughter, whom I'd spoiled since she was little, hardly ever visited after she got married.

When she found out I was sick, she did rush over immediately—but only to cut ties with me.

I remember the impatient look on her face as she threw the agreement down in front of me.

"You're about to die. You're not seriously thinking of dragging me down with you, are you?"

'Reborn into this life, my daughters were now only ten years old, yet the difference between them was already so obvious.'

'To think I was so blind in my past life.'

At this thought, I pulled my older daughter into my arms, feeling an even deeper wave of tenderness for her.

"Mom's fine. How was school today? Did you have fun?"

My older daughter was taken aback for a moment, then hugged me tightly. "It was great."

Seeing this, Julia Thorne, who was still on the sofa, suddenly shrieked and threw her half-eaten apple onto the carpet.

"What are you two doing? Why are you hugging? Let go of her!"

"You're both my daughters. Is there a problem with me hugging one of them?"

At my words, Julia Thorne's lip immediately began to tremble, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Seeing that she was about to launch into her usual theatrics—crying, screaming, and making a scene—my expression hardened.

"Shut your mouth and clean up that mess on the floor right now, or I'll stuff that apple right back in your mouth!"

Julia Thorne froze, stunned into silence. Just then, the nanny brought the last dish to the table.

"Madam, Young Ladies, dinner is ready."

Only then did I tell them both to start eating.

But when I saw what was on the table, I fell silent.

Julia Thorne was the first to the table and immediately put one of the chicken drumsticks from the platter into her bowl.

Now there was only one drumstick left on the platter.

Joyce Thorne, without a second thought, picked it up and placed it in my bowl. "Mom, let's eat."

I looked up at the nanny, who was about to leave, and stopped her. "Go make a list right now. I want all the grocery receipts from the last three months gathered and organized. I want to see them in two hours."

The nanny froze on the spot, her face turning deathly pale.

"Is it that urgent, Madam?"

"Yes, it is. Because I'd very much like to know why I give you so much money for groceries every month, yet you only ever cook two chicken drumsticks."