Chapter 2
The trial process would be extremely painful because of the drug’s properties.
And the chances of recovery were incredibly low.
So no patient wanted to gamble on those microscopic survival odds.
With the approval deadline approaching, the director-one of the drug’s developers-was getting anxious.
The moment I offered to try the drug, her eyes lit up, then she looked puzzled:
“Why would you make such a request?”
I pressed down on the sharp pain in my chest and forced a smile:
“My parents always favored my sister. I never felt any family love growing up.”
“Plus,” I pointed at the photo, “I’d love to have a handsome little brother.”
The director glanced at Kieran’s photo and smiled knowingly:
“Fine. If you can survive the three-year trial period, I’ll make you my daughter.”
Mission accomplished. I relaxed.
After signing the confidentiality agreement, the director looked at me meaningfully: “Try your best to stay
alive.”
I nodded firmly: “I will.”
I turned to look out the window at the magnolia buds on the branches.
They were being beaten down by the light snow, drooping sadly.
But still stubbornly clinging to their branches.
[ust like me-I’d planned to die this winter, but pain had shocked me back to life.
I didn’t reply to any more of Kieran’s messages.
Not even when he later sent [Can I just borrow it from you?] I ignored him.
I sat on the couch, quietly waiting for him to come home.
After nine, Kieran finally showed up.
He had a stormy expression, slamming his keys onto the shoe cabinet with a harsh crash.
Before, at times like this, I would’ve gone over, gently tugged his sleeve, and signed:
[Mad about something?]
Then he’d pretend to sulk until I coaxed him out of it.
But today I didn’t move.
I sat on the couch, flipping through my hospital follow-up reports.
I’d never told Kieran about my condition.
He thought I just had severe anemia.
Right now, I suddenly really wanted to know-what if he knew I was dying?
Would he regret all the ways he’d been messing with me?
I listened as he deliberately banged his water glass on the kitchen counter, then slammed the fridge door
extra loud.
He was waiting for me to give in, waiting for me to compromise like always.
But this time, I just silently gripped my lab results, the paper rustling between my fingers.
Kieran couldn’t see what I was hoping for.
He only cared about his own expectations.
When I still wouldn’t budge, he finally lost it.
Kieran grabbed his jacket and shot me a cold look, signing: “I’m going back to campus.”
I didn’t try to stop him.
The moment the door slammed shut, I got up and followed.
He made a phone call at the community gate, his cold, deep voice carried by the night wind into my ears:
“Xavier, come pick me up.”
“Where else? The cheap bitch’s place.”
“Bring Mia along, I’ve got a gift for her.”
This was the first time I’d heard Kieran actually speak.
Usually, I could only hear a few restrained groans from his throat when we were… together.
Just those few sounds, but I could tell how sexy his voice was.
I’d asked him how he’d lost his voice, if there was any chance of treatment.
He’d smiled bitterly while signing: “Got sick, fever damaged it. Doctor says going abroad might help, but it’d cost around a million in medical fees.”
Back then, I’d thought that when I died, I’d sell off my other organs-heart, corneas, kidneys, whatever-find buyers in advance.
No matter what, I’d scrape together his medical expenses.
Later, getting his voice back became my dying wish.
Now I wasn’t dead yet, but I’d already heard him speak.
Ridiculous and heartbreaking.
