I felt my heart stop for a moment, then pound wildly in my chest, shaking me so violently that my vision went black.

Dad sounded utterly exhausted. "No one expected it to turn out this way. Just stop talking about it."

Mom's voice broke with grief. "No! I'm going to say it!"

From the fragments of their conversation, I pieced together the truth. Mom and Dad had gotten pregnant not long after their wedding. To support the family, Dad worked nights.

One evening, Mom was assaulted by a man. She had considered ending her life and even tried to induce a miscarriage. The doctor warned that if she lost the pregnancy, she might never be able to have children again.

Over time, Mom noticed her belly growing larger, and the ultrasound revealed she was carrying twins.

"One of them has to be that rapist's!" Mom cried out. "That bastard survived, and he stole our Anna's health! He ruined Anna! He should give everything back!"

Every word burned like a red-hot iron against my heart. My hands shook violently as I covered my mouth.

At last, everything I couldn't understand fell into place. I was her daughter, and at the same time, I wasn't. I existed as living proof of that nightmare, a constant reminder of the past, a thief who had taken the health of the daughter she truly loved.

The ambulance arrived and took me away. Mom feared that anesthesia would affect Anna's upcoming surgery, so she insisted on a non-anesthetic stomach wash. Pain tore through me like fire racing along every nerve, while my body swung between the heat of a furnace and the chill of an ice bath.

My awareness floated in and out.

The door opened softly. Dad stepped inside, placing a small blueberry cake wrapped in a napkin beside my pillow. "Here, have this quietly. Don't let your mom catch you."

He pressed a hand to my forehead. "Why are you so hot?"

His voice caught Mom's attention. She rushed into the room with a grim expression. "First, you swallowed sleeping pills, and now you have a fever! Are you doing this just to make me worry?"

I lifted my heavy eyelids. Her face was hazy through the fog in my head. My throat was dry, yet I managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, Mom."

That apology had been buried in my heart for so long—for my birth, my existence, for everything.

Mom froze, staring at my flushed, trembling face. Her mouth twitched, and she finally turned away. "Forget it."

They stepped back into the corridor, but the arguing didn't stop.

"You need to give her medicine!" Dad said.

"What medicine?" Mom snapped. "She has tests tomorrow. Medicine could mess up her results—she just has to get through it!"

"Look at her! She's burning up! Jenna is your own daughter!" Dad snapped.

There was a brief pause, then Mom's voice cut through the silence. "Yes, I gave birth to her, but did I really want this? What matters more—your daughter or the rapist's? You decide for yourself."

The corridor was deathly silent. I turned to the small blueberry cake on my pillow. The berries on the cream had lost their freshness.

I took a tiny bite, and it was sharp and sour, completely unlike what I had imagined.

By the third day, my fever had broken, but my body still felt weak and fragile.

Mom touched my forehead, letting out a sigh of relief. "See? I told you—you're going to be okay."

I looked up at her and asked, "Mom, what if I don't wake up?"

She frowned deeply. "Don't be ridiculous! Every time you've had tests, every time you donated bone marrow, you made it through. You swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and survived. Your lab results are fine. Kidney surgery isn't going to kill you."

I raised my face, searching her eyes for even the tiniest crack.

"What if?" I whispered.

I wanted to see if she would care, even a little.

"There is no 'what if,'" she said calmly. "The surgery will succeed. Let's go. Don't make Anna wait."

I watched her open the door into the corridor light, then forced a bitter smile and followed.

The needle pierced my skin again, and dark blood flowed steadily through the tubing into the collection tubes. My vision blurred, and the sounds around me were muffled, as if I were underwater.

"The patient has had multiple bone marrow extractions. We need to assess organ reserve function and schedule an abdominal MRI with contrast," the nurse said, reaching into her pocket for a pen.

Mom's brows immediately knitted together. "I said no metal! Why are you still carrying that?"

I weakly said, "Mom, I want to write one more wish."

"Once you're done, it stays outside," Mom said, looking at my outstretched hand and my pale face.

She pressed her lips together, took the pen from the nurse, and placed it gently back in my palm. "Go ahead. Write it."

I opened my left hand and set the pen tip on the thin skin of my palm. When I finished, I curled my fingers around the words, holding them like the last fragile spark of hope.

Mom's eyes fell on my clenched fist. "What did you write?"

I lifted my head and managed a faint smile. "I'll tell you once I make it out alive."

A flicker of emotion crossed Mom's eyes. "You're not going to die. Stop saying things like that."

She nodded to the nurse, and the checkup proceeded without issue. I was wheeled into the operating room. Through the glass partition, I caught sight of Anna on another stretcher.

Her eyes were closed, lashes long, her wrist delicate and pale, her skin flawless from a life of care, like a porcelain doll. My own wrist was bony, veins dark beneath thin skin, like a weak sprout struggling for sunlight.

We were the same age. I had even been born first.

From outside the door, I could make out hushed voices.

"This child is too weak. Multiple donations have left her body fragile. All indicators are on the borderline. A kidney transplant is highly invasive, and postoperative complications are far more likely than usual. You must carefully consider this consent form and fully understand the risks."

A short silence followed.

Dad hesitated. "Should we delay a bit so Jenna can rest and recover?"

Mom snapped, "Rest? Do you have any idea how many connections I had to pull, how much I had to spend to bring a foreign expert here for this surgery? Their schedule is packed. If we don't do it now, the next slot won't be until next year! Do you think Anna can wait? What if something happens to her…"

She paused, then hissed through clenched teeth, "Do you even have a conscience, being her father?"

Silence fell again. The doctor said, "Jenna is also your daughter. What she has endured for Anna has already far exceeded what a child can handle—"

"I know," Mom cut him off sharply. "I know exactly what she has given, so sign the papers. I'll take full responsibility if anything goes wrong," she had said.

Soon, a team entered the operating room. I cast one last look toward the door. Through the narrow gap, I saw Mom turn away with a straight back, while Dad kept his head lowered, hiding his expression.

Darkness gently closed in.

I didn't know how much time had passed before the door opened again.

"I'm afraid Jenna has fallen into a coma and is still being resuscitated…"

"What about Anna?" Mom asked immediately.

"The recipient surgery was successful. Her kidney is functioning. If there's no severe rejection during the observation period, her prognosis should be good," the doctor said.

He paused for a moment before asking, "Are you certain they are twin sisters?"

A heavy silence followed. Mom's face tightened.

Dad firmly spoke up. "Of course! Jenna and Anna were born on the same day!"

The doctor shook his head. "The preoperative cross-matching and genetic screening results just came in. They show that Anna—the recipient—and Jenna—the donor—do share a biological connection, consistent with your claim that they are twins.

"However, Anna's genetic profile shows no parental link to Mr. Hawkins."

A suffocating silence fell over the corridor.

Mom let out a piercing cry, filled with disbelief. "This is impossible!"