When my sister, Cindy Saddler, and I perform our gymnastics routine, we both slip up.

My spine snaps as I hit the ground. The pain makes my face go completely pale, and my life is hanging by a thread.

But my mother and spotter, Cordelia Saddler, pushes me away in annoyance. "This isn't the time for you to fight with your sister for my attention. She's twisted her ankle! Go die if you want to die. Don't bother me!"

Later, I die due to complications in the hospital, as she wishes.

But after she finds out I'm dead, she goes crazy.

In the final moments before my death, my soul drifted to Cordelia Saddler's side. Cordelia was my mother.

Mom's face was tense as she grabbed the doctor and asked, "Doctor, will Cindy's foot injury affect her career as a gymnast in the future?"

Only after confirming that it wouldn't did she finally breathe a sigh of relief. Then, she started fussing over my younger sister, Cindy Saddler.

Cindy lay on the hospital bed, coughing weakly a few times. "Mom, I think Flora was injured, too. Is it really okay that you're staying here with me and not going to see her?"

Mom frowned in disgust. "Don't bring her up! I'm a spotter. Wouldn't I know her condition? What could happen from a fall at such a low height?"

She patted Cindy's back and handed her a cup of warm water. "You, on the other hand… If you hadn't been worried about her, how could you have made a mistake and sprained your ankle? If you hadn't gotten treatment in time, she could've ruined your entire career."

Her eyes were full of affection as she looked at Cindy and went on, "You're a future star gymnast. You matter the most. Don't waste your breath worrying about that ungrateful wretch. She lies through her teeth. Some things never change. She's just as disgusting as her cheating father!"

My eyes widened as pain tore through my heart. So, this was what Mom truly thought of me.

Cindy's injury wasn't my fault at all. She had twisted her ankle on purpose just to draw Mom's attention away. She did it so that I—whose spine had snapped from the fall—wouldn't receive treatment in time.

And yet, Mom believed it without question. In her eyes, I was the one who deserved to die. I was the liar who was forever making trouble and using various clumsy excuses to compete with Cindy for her affection.

I closed my eyes and felt my life slipping away at a terrifying speed.

During these few minutes that Mom spent fussing over Cindy, my body jolted again and again as the defibrillator pressed down on my chest.

In the emergency room, a nurse shouted anxiously, "The patient has no will to survive. The resuscitation isn't working!"

A doctor responded, "Wait. Her heartbeat is coming back! Call her family! If they say a few words to encourage her, we might be able to bring her back!"

Mom's phone suddenly rang.

She picked it up, and from the other end came an urgent voice, "Are you Flora Saddler's family? She's in an extremely critical condition. We're still trying to resuscitate her. Could you say a few words to encourage her?"

Mom froze for a moment. Her expression shifted slightly before settling into even deeper disgust.

She didn't hesitate at all before scolding, "Flora, how long are you going to keep pretending? How dare you team up with other people to lie to me now? Are you threatening me with your death now? You've grown awfully bold, haven't you?"

A threat? How could this be a threat?

As I looked at Mom, my heart ached even more.

She stood up, and veins popped on her hand that was gripping the phone. "How can you still be obsessed about competing with Cindy for attention at a time like this? Don't you care that Cindy twisted her ankle and almost lost her chance to compete forever?

"Listen to me. If you want to die, then hurry up and die! The moment you're gone, I'll be the first to throw a celebration!"

With that, she hung up and slammed the phone onto the nightstand, looking extremely furious.

She fumed, "Flora really has some nerve! As if pretending to be sick once wasn't enough. Now, she even staged being in a critical condition. What's next? Is she going to say she's dead?"

Cindy comforted her, "Don't get mad, Mom. Maybe Flora just wants to trick you into going to her. She didn't mean to upset you."

Mom patted Cindy's hand tenderly. "Don't worry about Flora. If she wants to pretend to be sick, let her. She can just go to hell for all I care."

I floated in the air, clutching my aching chest as I curled up helplessly.

"Mom, I didn't lie to you. I'm really dying," I thought.

Cindy glanced at the phone and continued persuading, "Mom, maybe something really did happen to Flora—"

Before she could finish, Mom cut her off firmly, "Impossible. She's my daughter. I birthed her. How could I not know what she's up to? She's pretending! Don't always be so soft-hearted.

"If it weren't for the shady little tricks she pulled behind our backs back then, I wouldn't have lost the chance to be your spotter. If I'd been your spotter, something like this wouldn't have happened to you."

She made a solemn promise to Cindy. "Once you recover and leave the hospital, I'll go back and submit a report so I can be your spotter. Only when I watch over you myself will I feel at ease.

"Don't assume that Flora sees you as family just because you're sisters. Have you forgotten how she took advantage of your illness to steal your spot and enter the state team? If it hadn't been for you, she wouldn't have become a gymnast at all.

"She stole your spot. Now, she's pretending to be sick and dying to gain sympathy. Why would I have such a vile daughter? I should have strangled her back when she was born to save myself all this trouble!"

As I listened to her rant, a tide of bitterness and sorrow surged in my heart. Perhaps, in Mom's eyes, everything I did was wrong.

She had never believed me. Back then, Cindy and I were both promising candidates for the state gymnastics team. But at that time, there was only one available spot.

The head coach, Bethany Johnson, chose me when everyone on our gymnastics team was present. But on that very night, Cindy coughed violently and claimed she had a high fever. She falsely accused me of stealing her spot.

And just like that, Mom believed her. She was convinced that Cindy fell ill because she was too upset that I had stolen her spot.

But Mom herself had once been a professional gymnast. She could tell that I had more talent than Cindy. I was more qualified to enter the state team.

Still, she chose to ignore it.

Even when we sent in our applications for who we wanted as our spotters, Mom went directly to Bethany and said she didn't want to be my spotter.

When gymnasts perform routines, many high-difficulty moves come with extreme risk. To ensure our safety, each gymnast could choose a spotter who could intervene in time if something went wrong.

Mom had gymnastics experience, and she was our parent. So, she was the best spotter Cindy and I could ask for.

I knew very well that Mom only had eyes for Cindy. When she went to speak with Bethany, she didn't even care to do it discreetly when I wasn't around. So, I heard everything clearly.

She didn't want to be tied to me in any way. Whether it was our mother-daughter relationship or the close bond between a gymnast and her spotter, she rejected it all. She hated me.

So, I never submitted an application and gave that opportunity to Cindy instead.

But when the assignments were announced, Mom became my spotter. Cindy's spotter, on the other hand, was a young and handsome male coach.

From then on, whether in training or during competitions, Mom only watched Cindy whenever she was performing. Over time, she couldn't react in time to my mistakes as she was more absorbed with watching Cindy.

I lowered my head to look at myself. My soul still retained the appearance I had in life. When I pulled back my clothes, underneath were countless scars that marred my body.

I had gotten injured many times. Fortunately, it wasn't to the extent that I lost my career because of them. Still, it had drastically shortened my athletic career. Inevitably, I would have to retire early while I was still young.

In my final competition before I was about to retire and leave the arena for good, I ran out of strength and made a mistake. To make things worse, Cindy had pushed me, which caused me to fall from a height.

My spine shattered. The intense pain drained all color from my face as my life hung by a thread.

As my spotter, Mom knew the severe consequences that could result from my fall. Yet, she chose to abandon me and run toward Cindy, who had only sprained her ankle but was crying until her face was streaked with tears.

Just because Cindy looked more pitiful, I was left to die.

Enduring the excruciating pain, I desperately clutched at Mom's pant leg and begged, "Mom, s-save me…"

She impatiently kicked me away. "If you're going to pretend to be hurt to hog my attention, at least pick the right time! Cindy twisted her ankle! What about you? That was just a minor fall. How bad can it be? It's a small injury. Get up yourself and go find a doctor. Don't bother me!

"If Cindy's injury is irreversible, can you take responsibility for it?"

The memory ended, but the intense pain spreading through my heart made me bend over. I wanted to curl up and hug myself for comfort.

A steady beeping sounded in my ears.

I saw myself on the hospital bed. I was no longer breathing, and the heart monitor flattened into a straight line.

And so, I died.

When I took my very last breath, the nurse never managed to reach Mom again.

The more I watched Cindy and Mom being all loving and close, the more disappointed I felt. The way Mom treated me was as if I weren't her daughter at all. I was more like a stray cat or dog living off her.

I wondered if Mom knew I had died, would she feel sad?

My guess was probably not.

…

A few days later, Cindy's injury had healed completely. Mom finally agreed to take her home. I followed them back as well.

Mom wrapped an arm around Cindy's shoulders and held her suitcase with her other hand.

She was still complaining nonstop, "You're getting discharged, and Flora doesn't even come back to help. What kind of older sister is she? Has she got no respect for me, her mother, anymore? When I get home, I'm definitely going to teach her a lesson!"

Cindy coughed a few times and covered her mouth, her face pale. "Don't be mad at Flora, Mom. She just wanted a bit of your attention but went about it the wrong way."

Mom's frown deepened upon hearing that. "You only see the best in people. That's why Flora keeps bullying you. There's no need to feel sorry for that wretch. She just flirts around with that seductress face of hers. If it weren't for her, I…"

She stopped herself mid-sentence and stopped the words that were about to tumble out of her mouth. The disgust in her eyes grew even more pronounced. It was so strong that it made me shudder.

"Forget it. Just thinking about her puts me in a bad mood," Mom hissed.

Just the mere mention of me would put her in a bad mood?

When I heard that, tears blurred my vision. I tried to reach out and grab Mom's hand, but my fingers passed through her body. I touched nothing but air.

Memories from the past surged into my mind like a rising tide.

My name was Flora, and Cindy was my younger sister. We were half-sisters who had the same mother but different fathers. Cindy was the child Mom had with my stepfather, Mikael Gardner.

Mom favored Cindy over me. She always felt that divorcing Mikael had deprived her of a complete family and that she owed her a happy childhood.

So, I always gave in and let Cindy have her way.

She splashed boiling water on me just because her classmates had praised me for being pretty when I went to pick her up. She forced me to learn gymnastics with her because Mom had insisted that she was more talented in it. She always wanted to outdo me in everything.

Her performance was lackluster during training. Bethany was very dissatisfied with her and chose me to enter the state team. So, Cindy lied and claimed I had stolen her spot.

She didn't even want Mom to be her spotter. The young male coach had once shown interest in me, so she insisted on taking him away from me. She also knew very clearly that Mom only had eyes for her and would never protect me.

A gymnast without a spotter's protection would expose themselves to severe risks. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff. One slight slip, and it would mean eternal ruin.

I had been too naive. I thought that as long as I didn't fight Cindy for Mom's affection and didn't expose her sloppy lies, I could at least survive.

How wrong I was!

I ended up dead on the operating table, reduced to a corpse that no one cared about.

It was just as Mom had wished. My existence irked her. She thought I deserved to die. More than anything, she hated me with her guts.

I used to think Mom hated me because of my unknown birth father.

I had burdened her for eight whole years, making it impossible for her to remarry. I dragged her down, making her the subject of our neighbors' ridicule and leaving her unable to hold her head high.

When Mikael appeared, things seemed to take a turn for the better. That honest and somewhat dull-looking man was willing to marry Mom and accept me, the baggage.