I had leukemia, but I was lucky. Both my father and my sister were a perfect match for a bone marrow transplant. My sister, ignoring everyone's protests, insisted on terminating her five-month-old twin pregnancy to donate to me. "Dad's too old," she'd said. "His body can't take it." When my brother-in-law, working out of town, found out, he drove through the night to confront her. He never made it. A car crash left him sterile. Desperate and broken, he blamed me for everything. "It's all your fault! I can never be a father now!" he screamed, before plunging a knife into me over and over again. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. My sister was holding me, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't you worry, Phoebe. We're sisters. I'm sure we'll be a match." 1 "Phoebe, don't be scared. Your big sister will save you, even if it costs me my life." Looking at my sister's tear-swollen eyes and face etched with concern, I trembled with fear. The life she was willing to sacrifice was mine. The phantom terror of a dozen stab wounds made me shove her away instinctively. "No!" I screamed. She staggered back, and my father had to catch her to keep her from falling. He looked at me, hesitant. "Phoebe, I know you're scared, but your sister is pregnant. You can't…" The room full of relatives stared at me, their gazes branding me an ungrateful child. I didn't have time to explain. The most important thing was to stop my sister from getting tested. "Hannah, you can't do this!" I pleaded. "You have two babies inside you! Even if you are a match, I won't take your marrow. It's better not to even get tested." My desperation was plain for all to see. They mistook it for selfless concern for my sister and her unborn children, murmuring about the depth of our bond. They began to try and persuade her on my behalf. "Hannah, your sister is right. You're precious right now, too. Don't be impulsive." "Exactly! There are so many of us here. I'm sure someone will be a match. We don't need you to do this." "And you're so close to your due date. Even if no one else is a match, we can wait until after you give birth." I nodded frantically in agreement. But their words only seemed to strengthen her resolve. "Before Mom died, she made me promise to take care of Phoebe. Now that she's sick, how can I, her older sister, hide behind everyone else?" "Don't try to stop me. In my heart, my sister is the most important person in the world. It's not just my children—if it meant my life, I'd give it willingly!" And with that, she marched out of the room to find the doctor. This time, my tears were real. "Hannah!" 2 The truth was, my dad was already a confirmed match. The doctors had said he was in excellent health and a perfect donor. So I truly couldn't understand why Hannah was so insistent, to the point of sacrificing her own unborn children. Her love was overwhelming, moving even, but it was a weight I couldn't bear. I didn't want to die. There was only one person left who had the right to stop her: her husband, Marcus, the man who had killed me in my past life. Marcus had been transferred out of state for a year-long project. He had six months left before he was due back. Fighting back my terror, I called him and laid everything bare. "Marcus, I swear, I will never take Hannah's marrow. But I can't convince her. You have to come back!" He was there the next day. He pleaded with my sister, his voice gentle. "Honey, let me get tested. I'll donate to Phoebe, okay?" Hannah just shook her head. "You're not related to Phoebe by blood. The chances of a match are almost zero." Despite this, Marcus went for the tests anyway. The results came back three days later. As expected, he wasn't a match. But Hannah was. Marcus's face was grim. "Hannah, I do not approve of this." Her reaction was explosive. "Marcus, what are you saying? You want me to just stand by and watch my own sister die?" "I never said that!" he retorted. "But you have to think about our children! They're already moving. In a few months, they'll be born!" "After the babies are here, you can do whatever you want. I won't stop you!" "But my sister has leukemia," Hannah sobbed. "It's not a common cold!" "What if her condition suddenly gets worse? Can you guarantee that won't happen?" Marcus was speechless. How could he possibly guarantee something like that? His face darkened. "All I know is, I don't agree." Suddenly, Hannah snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table. "No one is going to stop me from saving my sister!" she shrieked. "Or I'll kill them right now!" 3 Everyone froze. Marcus went pale with fright, practically falling to his knees. "Honey, please, don't do anything rash!" he begged. "Then don't force me!" Hannah screamed, pressing the knife against her own pregnant belly. The tip pierced her skin, and a bead of blood welled up. Gasps of horror filled the room. Watching my sister's frantic state, I was stunned. A chilling doubt crept into my mind. Could anyone truly value their sister more than their own children? But I quickly pushed the thought away. Phoebe, you can doubt yourself, but you can't doubt your sister. When I was born, Hannah was only three. But unlike most older siblings, she had adored me. She fought with the adults to take care of me. She learned how to mix my formula and change my diapers before she even knew how to dress herself properly. When we started school, she was the one who stood up for me, fighting boys bigger than her. She still has a two-inch scar on her arm from one of those fights. After our mother passed away, she became a mother to me. She gave me everything she could. She wore ten-dollar t-shirts from discount websites but bought me fifty-dollar dresses from department stores. Before she got married, she insisted on giving me all her savings, a decision that earned her endless grief from Marcus's family. Tears welled in my eyes at the memories. Yes, I had died in the last life, but it wasn't Hannah's fault. She couldn't have predicted that Marcus would lose his fertility in a car crash. The one who killed me was Marcus. The blame could never fall on her. She just loved me too much. She was willing to do anything to save me, even at the cost of her own children. In the last life, everyone's ending was a tragedy. Since fate had given me a second chance, I swore to myself that I would change our destiny. Right now, I had to stop her before she did something irreversible. Seeing everyone's attention fixed on Hannah, I quietly slipped over to the window, opened it, and climbed out onto the ledge. I straddled the sill, gripping the frame tightly to keep from falling. Then I shouted, "Hannah!" "I don't want your marrow! If you don't stop, I'll jump right now!" To make my point, I shifted my body further out. We were on the twenty-first floor. The room erupted in pure panic. "I know you're both good kids," my father's voice trembled. "Let's just talk this through." I ignored him, my eyes locked on my sister. "Hannah, promise me. Promise you won't do anything to hurt yourself or the babies. Or I'll jump." "I mean it!" Finally, she dropped the knife. "Okay," she sobbed. "I promise." 4 The cut on Hannah's stomach was superficial. The doctor disinfected it and put on a bandage. What followed was a thorough scolding. My dad apologized profusely to the doctor, bowing and promising up and down that he would watch us and it would never happen again. Seeing my dad so flustered, Hannah and I caught each other's eye and couldn't help but laugh. That just set the doctor off on another tirade, this time aimed at us. It was understandable. Hospital windows are usually sealed shut. But the one in my room was broken, discovered that morning during ventilation. The nurse had reported it and was told a maintenance worker was on their way. Who could have guessed that in that short window, someone would threaten to jump? Hannah and I quickly bowed our heads and admitted our fault. Once things calmed down, I was still worried. I pulled my dad aside to talk to Marcus. "Do you think Hannah might have prenatal depression?" I elaborated on my concerns. "She's always been anxious about me, but never this… obsessive." My dad was worried too. "You're right. Hannah used to be so easygoing and reasonable. This isn't like her at all." Marcus considered it. "It's possible," he admitted. "She's carrying twins, which is harder than a normal pregnancy. And with me being out of town, I can't even be there for her. She has to go to all her checkups alone." "Her morning sickness has been terrible, too. She can't keep anything down." The more he spoke, the more guilt-ridden he became. "It's all my fault." My dad and I felt a pang of guilt as well. With my illness, we hadn't been paying enough attention to her. Marcus decided to take Hannah to see a psychiatrist. The diagnosis confirmed our suspicions: mild depression. While we were worried for her, a sense of relief washed over us. There was a reason for her behavior. She was sick. Marcus's year-long assignment came with a promotion, but he contacted his company and arranged to be transferred back early. His career could wait. If something happened to his wife and children, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Hannah started seeing a therapist regularly, and after a while, her condition improved significantly. When the doctors recommended that my dad be the donor, her reaction was perfectly normal. She focused on how to best care for both of us and never mentioned donating her own marrow again. The transplant was scheduled for two weeks later. My dad began a strict regimen of early nights, balanced meals, and daily exercise to get his body in peak condition. I was moved into a sterile isolation room to begin pre-transplant chemotherapy. The side effects left me weak and unable to sleep well. One night, I woke up in the dead of night. The door to my room creaked open. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My body was frozen, paralyzed. I could only watch in horror as a figure approached my bed, raised a knife high, and plunged it towards me. 5 I shot up in bed, gasping. The room was empty. I looked down at myself. My clothes were intact. I ran my hands over my body. No wounds, no blood. I let out a breath, telling myself it was just a dream. But I couldn't fall back asleep. I lay awake until the first light of dawn, finally drifting off into a fitful slumber. The next day, I was on edge, a constant feeling of dread churning in my stomach. It wasn't until visiting hours, when my dad came to see me, that it hit me. "Dad, where's Hannah? Why didn't she come?" He smiled. "She called. She has a prenatal checkup today, so she's not coming. She'll see you tomorrow." I tried to suppress the unease rising in my chest. "Dad, Marcus isn't here. Can you go check on her? I'm fine here." He agreed immediately. After he left, I called Hannah, but the phone just rang and rang. The anxiety intensified. Fifteen minutes later, my dad called back. "Phoebe, I'm at the obstetrics department on the second floor. I don't see your sister. She probably finished her checkup and went home." My heart sank. "Dad, go to her apartment. I just called her, and she didn't pick up." "Maybe she just didn't hear it. Don't worry, I'll try calling her again in a bit." Seeing that he didn't grasp the severity of the situation, I reminded him, "Dad, don't forget. She has depression." He immediately grew tense. It was just as I feared. He went to her apartment, but no one answered the door. A neighbor said they saw her leave early that morning. I contacted her friends, classmates, and colleagues. My dad went to every place she might have gone. But there was no sign of her. The dream from the night before came rushing back, and a chill went down my spine. "Dad, we have to tell Marcus." "And… call the police." The police, understanding that three lives were at stake, took the matter very seriously. They were efficient. Using surveillance footage, they quickly tracked her down. She had gone to another hospital in the city. And she had an appointment for an abortion. The procedure was scheduled for today. I froze. The question I had so desperately tried to suppress resurfaced with a vengeance. Did my sister really love me at all?
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393718", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel