I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live.

When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center.

"Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid."

Ten minutes later, they arrive.

Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?"

My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this."

I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more.

The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me.

"I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

After being diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, my attending physician advised immediate hospitalization.

The medical bills were expensive, so I stepped out of the hospital and called my husband.

After my 188th call went unanswered, I walked into the hospice service office with my diagnosis report in hand.

I said, "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation."

The staff member noticed the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and looked at me with sympathy. "Sweetheart, did you come alone? Are there any family members with you?"

Before I could answer, the main door was flung open.

Jasper Horton barged in with his foster sister, followed closely by my brother.

Before I could say anything, Jasper slapped me across the face in front of everyone, his eyes filled with rage. "Just to compete with Janice for attention, you came to a place like this to scare us? Lisa Carter, don't you think you've gone too far?"

I stood frozen, speechless for a moment.

It wasn't until I saw the pink balloons behind them that I remembered that today was Janice Horton's birthday party.

Jasper had taken two days off just to help her decorate his venue. And I, his terminally ill wife, had merely wanted to ask him for some money for treatment.

In return, I got 188 rejections and a slap, along with being berated for going too far.

My eyes burned, and tears began to fall uncontrollably.

I raised my hand to my smarting cheek and murmured, "Jasper, I didn't…"

"Are you still trying to lie?" My brother, Casey Carter, suddenly snatched the diagnosis report from my hands.

After glancing at it twice, he let out a mocking laugh. "Lupus? You suck at lying. You had to pick a disease that only one in a million people get? Well, congratulations, you've ruined Janice's birthday party. You've been faking illnesses since you were a kid, and you're trying to pull the same trick?"

As he spoke, he raised his hand as if he were about to hit me too, only to be stopped by Janice.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at me with a pitiful expression. "Lisa, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown a party…"

She continued, "Please, stop lying to them. They're really tired of this. I'm willing to give up everything, so please just wake up."

Jasper immediately pulled her into his arms, gently wiped her tears, and whispered, "It's not your fault."

My body screamed with escalating pain, and each breath became a struggle as a coppery tang filled my nostrils.

Without looking at them again, I wiped the blood from beneath my nose and turned back to the counter. "Please complete the paperwork for my cremation. Three days from now, I want the process to go uninterrupted. I have no family."

Behind me, Jasper let out a cold laugh as he looked at me with contempt. "Lisa, you staged all this just to ruin Janice's party? You should worry less about being sick and more about the consequences you'll face in three days. Don't expect me to clean up your mess."

With that, he walked out with Janice, never looking back.

After finishing the formalities, I returned home alone.

I only had three days left in the world.

With advanced lupus ravaging my body, I'd arranged my own departure, all on my own.

And at that moment, the two people closest to me were with another woman, blowing out candles and popping champagne.

When I got home and opened the familiar little room, I realized I had almost nothing of my own to pack.

I lived in the old storage room tucked in the farthest corner of the house.

What truly belonged to me were just a few pieces of old clothing.

Meanwhile, Janice had a walk-in closet the size of a living room—at least three times bigger than my entire space.

Only her unwanted old dresses and broken heels would casually be tossed into this "temporary storage space" of mine.

I had argued with Jasper about it countless times before, but he always said, "Janice was beaten and scolded by her biological father growing up. She finally has a better life in our home, so can't you give in to her a little?"

That "little" had lasted five years.

I packed my things into a tattered cardboard box when I got a call from the cemetery office.

"Hello, are you Ms. Lisa Carter? About the burial plot you viewed earlier, we can reserve it for you if you pay the deposit now. Otherwise, it'll be transferred to the next applicant on the waiting list."

It was a burial plot I saw not too long ago.

The plot was surrounded by neatly arranged roses and pine trees, and the headstone was made of light gray marble in a minimalist style.

It was the kind that looked like it belonged on one of those lifestyle Instagram accounts, where even death had to be elegant.

At the time, I thought to myself that if living was this hard, then I should at least die with dignity.

But those plans had turned into a luxury beyond reach.

I paused briefly before answering, "No, thank you."

I couldn't afford it.

Over the past few years, I had deposited all my income into our joint account. Fearing I'd "waste money on nonsense," Jasper had withdrawn it all in advance.

I couldn't even afford treatment. How could I possibly spare money to choose a pretty grave for myself?

Just as I ended the call, Jasper burst through the door.

He tossed his briefcase onto the couch and said sharply, "A grave plot? Why are you buying a grave?"

I thought that he might have overheard something, and I opened my mouth to explain.

But he merely sneered with a frown. "Lisa, do you know how embarrassing it was standing in that office? Janice was crying so hard that she couldn't breathe. The whole birthday party was ruined. Do you even know it was her 22nd birthday? Why can't you be more understanding of her?"

I wasn't understanding enough of her?

Then, who was the one who had been sidelined and humiliated all these years?

I hadn't celebrated a single birthday since she stepped into this house.

Every year on my birthday, she would either suddenly spike a fever or have a severe allergic reaction and be rushed to the hospital.

Then everyone would drop everything and fuss over her.

No one ever remembered my birthday. I wouldn't even get a single cake.

I looked at Jasper, feeling my nose tingle and my voice tremble. "I'm only one year older than her, yet you've never even spared the money for a birthday cake for me."

His eyes flickered with the slightest hesitation, but he still barked, "Can you stop being so petty?"

Just then, footsteps were heard at the door.

Casey and Janice had returned. Casey snarled, "You still have the nerve to talk about birthdays? After what you've done, you don't deserve one!"

His face was flushed dark with rage, and his gaze was vicious. "Janice cried so hard because of you that she almost needed emergency treatment! She still wants to speak up for you, and you don't even feel guilty!"

Janice stepped forward, sobbing, and forced out a weak smile. "It's alright, Lisa, I don't blame you. I just want to eat your peanut butter cream cake. Please?"

Casey immediately chimed in and backed her up. "Isn't baking the one thing you're good at? Lisa, she's already lowered herself to this to give you a way out. Don't be ungrateful."

I looked at the barely concealed triumph on her face and replied calmly, "Aren't you allergic to peanuts? Why do you want a peanut cake? Are you planning on setting me up to land you in the hospital one more time?"

Janice's face instantly drained of color.

She almost instinctively dropped to her knees, pleading in a pitiful voice, "I'm sorry, Lisa, I really forgot! Please don't be mad, okay? I can choose another flavor instead."

Her act of looking pitiful was so practiced that it felt absurd.

The first time I made a peanut butter cake, I truly hadn't known she was allergic.

Back then, she casually mentioned that she wanted to try a peanut butter cream flavored cake. Wanting to please her, I experimented repeatedly, enduring burns to produce a decent cake.

In the end, she went into anaphylactic shock and nearly ended up in the ER.

But the moment I woke up, she threw herself into Jasper's arms, crying and saying, "Jasper, Lisa made it out of the kindness of her heart. She said one small bite wouldn't hurt. It's my fault for being greedy, so don't blame her…"

All I could do was stand beside the hospital bed, under the accusing gazes of Jasper and Casey, quietly trying to explain, "I didn't know she was allergic. She never told me…"

Jasper gave me a hard kick to the stomach. "Stop making excuses. You're just jealous that both Casey and I dote on her!"

That kick sent me crashing into the corner of the wall. I collapsed, unable to move from the pain.

Then, I was locked in my room for three whole days.

I didn't get any food or water, and wasn't even allowed to open the door.

By the time they let me out, I was nearly unconscious.

Thinking of those days, I said coldly, "I can't make the flavor you want. Go buy one yourself."

But Janice still wouldn't give up. She clung to me and said sweetly, "Alright, I don't need any cake. Please don't be mad, Lisa."

Yet in her eyes, I caught a flash of venom, and her grip on my arm tightened until it hurt. I yanked myself free with force, and she collapsed on the floor in a dramatic fall.

The room instantly fell silent.

Casey rushed over and helped her up, gently examining her elbow.

Jasper lifted her sleeve to check the scrape. After gently rubbing it, he turned to me and roared, "Lisa Carter, are you insane?"

Then came a loud, stinging slap across my face. "You've really crossed the line! Don't expect to eat tonight. Get back to your room and reflect on yourself!"

He had used all his strength in that slap. I even felt my molars loosen.

Casey saw the blood coming out of the corner of my mouth, and for a second, his expression turned conflicted.

I silently wiped away the blood and returned to my room.

It wasn't to reflect, but to retrieve the suitcase I had packed up early on.

When I stepped out into the living room with my luggage, the room went quiet. Then came their mocking sneers. "So you've learned to run away from home now? Lisa, you're an adult. How are you still so immature? If you walk out that door today, don't bother coming back."

I was already numb to threats like that.

This house had never been mine anyway.

I didn't look back as I walked straight toward the door.

Enraged, Jasper grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it at me.

It shattered at my feet, and the shards sliced into my ankle.

Jasper shouted, "Fine! Get lost! Don't even think of crawling back here in the future!"