Chapter 1The BULLY from high school showed up after my diagnosis. Said she'd "donate" for me. My family cried tears of joy.
But when surgery day came? She ran. "Too scared."
And my family? They didn't get mad. They felt bad for her.
So they gave her everything. My parents treated her like a daughter. My brother couldn't shut up about her. Even my fiancé stuck to her like glue.
She ran ninety-nine times. And every single time? They chased after her—while I lay in a hospital bed, gasping for air.
She dangled that "donation" like a leash. And they fed it. Every. Single. Day.
Whatever. They didn't know—
I'd already stopped treatment. I'm done begging.
I don't want her organ.
I don't want them. EITHER.
Let them "love" that vicious bitch.
One day, the truth will hit. Then regret. FOREVER.
--
The day I got diagnosed with that rare neuro thing—the one that eats your nerves until you can't walk, or breathe, or exist—I thought my life was over.
Turns out, it was just getting started. In the worst way possible.
Morgana Drake. My personal nightmare from high school.
She stood in front of my family, with this fake-worried look on her face, and said, "I want to donate to Lyra. I feel so bad about how I treated her."
My mom cried. My dad shook her hand. My brother Dorian actually smiled at her.
And me?
I just stared.
On the surgery day one.
Morgana didn't show.
"I got scared," she said over the phone, voice all shaky. "The operating room is so... cold. I just panicked. I'm so sorry."
My family didn't get mad at her.
They felt bad for her.
Dad patted her back. Mom made her tea. My brother Dorian said she was "so brave for even trying."
And me? I was already on the gurney, halfway to the OR, when they canceled.
No one told me until I woke up from the anesthesia.
That became the "pattern":
Morgana would agree to the transplant. Then, at the last second—bam—she'd run. "Too scared." "What if something goes wrong?" "I just need more time."
And every single time, my family ran after her.
Not me.
Her.
My mom started calling her "sweetheart."
My dad said she had "a good heart."
Dorian? He literally said, "Morgana's so much more fun to hang out with than Lyra."
The ninety-ninth time was the one that broke me.
I'd just come out of emergency surgery. Again. Woke up to the sound of my own heartbeat on the monitor and... nothing else.
Just me and the ceiling tiles.
I didn't even cry anymore. What's the point?
Then my phone buzzed.
A video from Morgana.
I opened it.
There they were—my whole family, plus Caspian—walking down some fancy street.
Morgana was laughing, throwing her hair back, looking like she'd just won the lottery.
She turned to the camera and said in that fake-sweet voice, "Oh no, you guys are all here with me, but what if Lyra wakes up and gets mad?"
Dad waved his hand. "Don't worry. The doctors said she's stable. She's fine."
Mom kissed Morgana's cheek. "You're so thoughtful, honey. Always thinking of others. We're just so grateful you're willing to do this for her. The least we can do is make you happy."
Dorian snorted. "Seriously. Lyra's not gonna die today. Relax. You do you."
And then Caspian Reid.
My fiancé. The guy I'd been with since I was fifteen.
He put his hand on Morgana's shoulder and said, "Organ transplants are scary. It's normal to be afraid. I'll be right there with you the whole time."
The video cut off.
I stared at the black screen for a long time.
Then I laughed.
It came out wrong—like a cough mixed with a sob.
Right, I thought. Sure. They're all "grateful."
A second later, a message from Morgana popped up.
"Lyra, please don't be mad. They just feel bad for me because I'm scared. They love you. They really do."
I almost threw my phone across the room.
She always did this. Played the victim while shoving the knife in deeper.
And my family? They ate it up. Every. Single. Time.
My fingers were shaking when I typed back:
"Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Happy now?"
I didn't expect a reply.
But I definitely didn't expect what happened next.
Not even ten minutes later, my parents stormed into my hospital room like I'd just robbed a bank.
Dad's face was red. "Did you force Morgana again?"
I blinked. "What? No. I just—"
Dorian cut me off, arms crossed. "She's already agreed to donate. Why can't you just be grateful? You had to text her that crap? Seriously?"
Mom didn't say anything. Just stood there with this disappointed look, like I'd embarrassed her in front of the whole country.
"I didn't do anything," I said.
But my voice came out weak.
Then Caspian walked in.
He didn't even look at me. Just pulled out his phone, scrolled, and said, "Morgana showed me your message. You guilt-tripped her again."
"No, I—"
"Save it." His voice was ice. "She's doing this out of kindness. You have no right to pressure her. Keep it up, and I'll rip up that donor agreement myself. I mean it."
I just stared at him.
This was the same guy who held my hair back when I threw up from the infusions—the nasty ones that made my bones ache.
Same guy who promised to marry me.
Now he was threatening to kill my only chance at living.
For her.
I looked around the room.
Mom. Dad. Dorian. Caspian.
All of them standing there, looking at me like I was the villain.
All of them defending Morgana Drake.
The girl who made my life hell.
The girl who was pretending to be scared so she could watch me die.
And you know what?
I laughed again. For real this time.
They all froze.
"What's so funny?" Dad snapped.
I leaned back against my pillow, wiped a tear from my eye—not from sadness, just from the sheer ridiculousness of it all—and said, "What if I told you... without that surgery, I've got maybe a month left?"
Chapter 2
Everyone just... stopped.
Like someone hit pause on a remote.
Dorian was the first to speak. His voice came out tight. "That's not possible."
I didn't look away. I looked at each of them—really looked—and said, slow and clear, "If I don't get this surgery, I'm dead. So are you going to let her do it? Right now?"
The door swung open before anyone could answer.
Morgana.
Of course.
She rushed in like she'd been listening the whole time. Which, honestly? She probably was.
"What are you guys talking about?"
She grabbed my mom's arm, then my dad's, all wide-eyed and innocent. "Lyra, didn't the doctor say you can keep going with the treatments? That you can still hang on?"
And just like that—poof—the tension evaporated.
Everyone exhaled.
Caspian let out this cold little laugh. "See? She's right. You made the whole thing up, didn't you? Just to pressure Morgana. What the hell happened to you, Lyra?"
Dorian nodded. "Exactly. Morgana's been with us every single day—for you. Talking to us, keeping us company. She's so sweet. Honestly? I wish she was my real—"
"Enough." Dad cut him off. His voice was ice. "We know your condition better than anyone. It's not that bad. Just wait a little longer."
I dropped my eyes to my hands.
My chest felt like someone had poured acid into it.
They'd forgotten. All of them.
They forgot how they ran around like headless chickens when I first got diagnosed.
How they begged, cried, paid for every test in the book. How they promised they'd find a match no matter what.
That was... what? Three months ago?
Now look at them.
They knew what those infusions did to me.
The bruises up and down my arms. The way I couldn't keep food down for days. The nights I screamed into my pillow so they wouldn't hear me crying.
They just didn't want to see it anymore.
Or maybe Morgana had already taken my place in their hearts.
I didn't have the energy to fight.
"Fine," I said. "I get it. I won't bring it up again."
Dorian opened his mouth to say something, but Morgana was faster.
She grabbed my hand.
Not gently.
Her fingers wrapped around mine, and I felt her thumb press down—right on top of the IV catheter.
Pain shot up my arm like electricity.
I looked up, and there it was. That little flash in her eyes. The same one from high school.
Right before she dumped that drink over my head. Right before she locked me in that supply closet and left me there overnight while everyone went home.
She loved that look.
"You know, Lyra," she said, sweet as poison, "we're all exhausted because of you. Physically and mentally. I actually envy you—having such a great family, a boyfriend who loves you. So stop holding a grudge against them, okay?"
She pressed down even harder.
I couldn't help it. I yanked my hand away.
Didn't even push her. Just pulled back.
But Morgana went down like a sack of bricks. Flat on the floor. Loud.
"Ow!"
"Lyra... I was just trying to be nice." Her voice wobbled. "If you don't want me here, I'll go. I'm sorry."
"I didn't—I barely—"
I didn't even finish.
Because Dad's hand came across my face so fast I didn't see it coming.
Smack.
My head snapped to the side. My cheek burned.
I stared at him.
My whole life, my dad had never hit me. Not once. Not even when I crashed his car at sixteen.
Now he slapped me. For HER.
He looked away for half a second—almost guilty—but his voice stayed cold. "Don't lie. When are you going to fix that spoiled attitude of yours?"
Tears exploded out of my eyes. I couldn't stop them.
Caspian scooped Morgana off the floor. Held her against his chest. Then he looked at me and smirked.
"Morgana's been nothing but good to you. And this is how you treat her? You've got so much energy for someone who claims to be dying."
He didn't even look back as he carried her out.
Dorian kicked the side of my bed. Hard. The whole thing rattled.
"See what you did? You had to make a scene. We're literally being nice to her because of you. Can't you just be grateful for once?"
My mom just stood there, frowning at me like I was a stranger. "We spoiled you too much," she said. "That's the problem."
Dad waved his hand. "Leave her. Let her sit here and think about what she did."
And then they were gone.
All of them.
Just me and the beeping machines.
I sat there for a long time.
The tears dried on my face.
My cheek still hurt.
My hand throbbed where Morgana had dug her thumb in.
And I thought about everything. Every single thing they'd said. Every look. Every time they chose her over me.
You know what?
I was done.
I pressed the call button.
A few minutes later, Dr. William walked in. Gray hair. Kind eyes. The only person in this building who actually looked at me like I was human.
"Lyra? You okay?"
I took a breath.
"I want to stop the treatments."
He blinked. "Lyra—"
"I'm serious." My voice didn't shake. Not once. "No more infusions. No more waiting for a donor who's never going to show up. I'm done."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Okay."
"And don't tell my family."
Chapter 3
I signed myself out of the hospital the next morning.
No one came to stop me. No one even called.
I took a cab home.
The driveway felt longer than I remembered. The house looked the same from the outside. Big. Quiet. Expensive.
But the second I walked in?
I stopped breathing.
The painting above the fireplace was gone. The one of all of us. Mom, Dad, Dorian, me.
I was wearing that stupid blue dress I hated. Dad made me smile with a dumb joke.
Yeah. That one.
Replaced.
Now it was Morgana. Sitting in the middle. Mom on one side, Dad on the other. Dorian behind her with his hand on her shoulder.
Like she'd always been there.
Like I never existed.
I walked upstairs on autopilot.
My room—the one Mom spent weeks designing and Dorian helped decorate—wasn't my room anymore.
It was a walk-in closet.
HER walk-in closet.
Dresses everywhere. Shoes in rows. Bags hanging on the wall.
My bed? Gone. My desk? Gone. The posters I put up? Taped over with magazine cutouts of models I didn't recognize.
Everything I cared about was in the basement storage room. Just piled there like garbage.
Birthday presents from Mom and Dad. The vintage record player from last year. The cashmere scarf.
The limited-edition vinyl Dorian saved his allowance for months to buy me.
And Caspian's letters. Dozens of them. Tied with a ribbon. "My dearest Lyra," they started. "I can't wait to marry you."
I picked one up. Read the first line.
Then I laughed.
Not a happy laugh.
I carried everything to the backyard. Our fire pit was still there.
I threw the letters in first. Watched the paper curl and turn black.
Then the scarf. The record player. The vinyl.
One by one.
The smoke smelled like everything I used to love turning into nothing.
I didn't cry.
After that, I called a cab. Told the driver to take me to the funeral home.
The woman at the front desk had soft eyes. She didn't ask why a twenty-something girl was there alone.
"I want to arrange everything," I said. "Cremation. And then scatter my ashes at sea."
She nodded. Didn't flinch. "Do you have family we should contact?"
"No."
Half an hour later, I was walking down the street. No destination. Just... walking.
And then I saw them.
Through the big glass window of some fancy Italian restaurant.
My family. All of them. Having dinner with her.
Morgana sat in the middle like a queen. Mom was spooning pasta onto her plate. Dad was laughing at something she said. Dorian was making weird faces to make her giggle.
And Caspian?
He was right next to her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
Like they were a couple.
My chest caved in.
I turned to walk away.
"Lyra?"
Too late.
Morgana was pointing at me through the glass. "Mom? Dad? Look! Why is she out of the hospital?"
Every head turned.
Every face went cold.
Dorian came outside first. Grabbed my arm. Pulled me in.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice was sharp. "Are you trying to cause more drama? Who said you could leave?"
Caspian didn't even stand up. Just looked at me from his chair, face full of disgust. "Seriously? You followed us here? Why can't you just stay in the hospital and rest?"
I forced a smile. It felt like glass in my mouth. "I didn't follow you."
I turned to leave.
Morgana's voice cut through.
"Oh! Lyra, wait." Her eyes locked onto my hand. "Is that a ring? I've never seen it before. Can I try it on?"
My heart stopped.
The ring was my grandmother's. Antique sapphire. Mom gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. The only thing I had left that still mattered.
"No," I said.
Dad's face went hard. "Just let her try it on. Stop being so selfish."
Mom sighed. "It's just a ring, Lyra."
Dorian: "Yeah. Seriously."
Caspian stood up. Walked over. Didn't ask. Just grabbed my wrist and yanked the ring off my finger.
"Don't forget," he said, voice low, "you're only alive because she's willing to save you. If you can't even let her borrow a stupid ring, why should anyone bother?"
My finger stung.
But that wasn't the pain that killed me.
Morgana held the ring up to the light. Smiled. Twirled it.
Then—oops.
It slipped.
Fell straight to the tile floor.
The sound of sapphire cracking echoed through the whole restaurant.
Morgana blinked. "Oh my God, Lyra. I'm so sorry. It just slipped. I didn't—"
She did it on purpose.
I knew she did.
Something inside me snapped.
I slapped her.
Not hard. Barely a tap, honestly.
But she stumbled back like I'd punched her. Three whole steps. Hand on her cheek. Tears already falling.
"Lyra!" Caspian was in front of her in a second. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Morgana peeked around his shoulder. Gave me that little smile. The one no one else could see.
Then her voice came out all wobbly. "It's okay. It's my fault. I was clumsy. She's right to be mad."
She turned to leave. "I know she hates me. I'll just go. I don't want to be a problem."
And then she ran.
Fast. Like she'd been training for it.
Caspian shoved me out of the way—literally shoved me—and ran after her.
I lost my balance. Fell backward. Crashed right into a waiter carrying a tray of hot soup.
The bowl tipped.
Scalding liquid splashed down my chest, my arms, my neck.
I screamed. Just a little.
Mom and Dad looked at me. For a second, I thought they might help.
Then Dorian yelled from the door: "Mom! Dad! Hurry! Morgana's talking about killing herself!"
Dad didn't even look back.
Mom gave me one last look. Disappointment. Pure disappointment.
"You better pray she's okay," she said. "Otherwise, you can just rot in that hospital."
And they left.
All of them.
I was on the floor. Soup everywhere. Skin burning. Chest burning worse.
And then something warm filled my mouth.
I coughed.
Blood. Dark red. Splattered on the white tile.
The restaurant got quiet.
People stared.
The world tilted sideways.
And everything went black.
