<
P
He was holding a bag of my favorite fruits.
“I heard from the doctor that it’s nothing serious. Come home, and stop fighting with your brother.”
I had told Dr. Sean not to tell anyone about my condition without my permission.
So he hadn’t told Lucas either.
I used to want them to know so badly, but now I didn’t want them to find out too soon.
“First of all, we’ve already broken up.”
“Secondly, what does my relationship with my brother have to do with you?”
His face darkened.
“Ruby, everyone has been so good to you. Why do you have to be so difficult?”
Good to me?
How laughable.
Was that what they called being good to me?
“Can you just get out?” I said.
“Looking at you makes me sick.”
Seeing him just reminded me of how he and Tiffany had been kissing passionately in bed.
It was truly disgusting and nauseating.
As soon as I said this, my brother suddenly burst in.
“Ruby, you’ve really gone too far this time,” he shouted as he rushed over and slapped me again.
The force was strong this time, and my ears rang for a moment.
My brother never used to hit me or even raise his voice at me.
But at some point, he had become quick–tempered and started getting physical with me.
“We’ve already given you a way out, and you’re still throwing a tantrum.”
“Fine. You don’t want me as your brother? I don’t want you as my jinx of a sister either.”
Lucas shook his head at me in disappointment and left.
The people who used to treat me so well were now leaving me one by one.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t want them anymore either.
The next day, my brother came again.
He was wearing his white coat and holding a McDonald’s bag.
When I saw the McDonald’s logo, my face turned pale.
“Get out. I’m not eating that,” I said.
But he replied, “Today is the anniversary of Dad’s death. Didn’t you always love eating McDonald’s on this day? I’ll let you eat your fill.”
Then he rushed over and started shoving the food into my mouth.
<
The greasy fried chicken slid down my throat and into my stomach.
I was reminded of what happened years ago.
Without warning, I vomited a mouthful of fresh blood. I desperately pressed the emergency call button.
Dr. Sean quickly rushed in and punched my brother hard.
“Are you crazy? Don’t you know she has stomach cancer?” he yelled.
Bocoma SVP! Flead ni SVP stories
Hearing Dr. Sean’s words, my brother froze in place.
The fried chicken fell to the floor with a “plop“.
I was in so much pain I kept convulsing. Crying, I begged Dr. Sean:
“Save me, I don’t want to die yet.”
Then I lost consciousn
I had a dream.
I dreamed about when I was in high school.
Back then, I would go eat McDonald’s every Sunday.
One day it was raining heavily, so I didn’t go.
When Dad came home, he rubbed my cheek.
“My little princess, why didn’t you go eat McDonald’s today? Do you want Daddy to go buy some for you?”
“It’s okay, it’s raining hard today. I’ll just go next week,” I replied.
But Dad still went out secretly to buy it, because he wanted to make me happy.
On the way back, he got into a car accident.
… hepa
When I arrived at the scene, there was still McDonald’s in the passenger seat.
While Dad was lying in a pool of blood.
At that moment, I felt like the sky had fallen.
At the hospital, Dad passed away after failed attempts to save him.
Mom rushed over and slapped me hard across the face,
“It’s all your fault! You insisted on eating McDonald’s. You killed your father!”
My brother stood to the side, not even wanting to look at me.
From then on, I was labeled as bad luck.
My mom and brother, who used to love me, began to hate me intensely.
I couldn’t eat McDonald’s anymore either.
<
Because every time I saw McDonald’s, I would be reminded of Dad lying in that pool of blood.
When I woke up again, I was back in the hospital room.
My brother was standing over me, looking down with a tense expression.
“What’s really wrong with you?” he asked.
“Do you really have stomach cancer?”
I glanced at Dr. Sean beside me, silently asking him to explain.
I had told him before that I didn’t want them to know about my illness.
“She’s fine, it’s just a stomach ulcer,” Dr. Sean said.
My brother let out a sigh of relief, then said harshly: “I knew you wouldn’t be sick. You’ve always been so healthy.”
I used to be very healthy indeed, but because my family wouldn’t give me money, I had to earn it myself.
Then, after doing food vlogs for so long, I developed stomach cancer.
Thinking of this, I remembered I hadn’t logged into my streaming platform in a long time.
I quickly picked up my phone to check and saw 99+ notifications.
Everyone was cursing at me, calling me a disgusting woman.
Saying I would do anything for money.
Some people even made voodoo dolls of me, cursing me to die soon.
My face turned pale.
My brother snatched my phone away, then laughed: “Good, you deserve to be cursed. People like you should be scolded.”
Dr.
Sean couldn’t stand it anymore and shoved him hard.
“What kind of person are you?” he shouted.
“This is your own sister.”
“Mind your own business. This is a family matter. And don’t forget, you’re just an intern. You have no right to speak to me like that, my brother retorted.
He tossed the phone back to me and left.
“Dr. Sean, how long have you been an intern?” I asked, looking at him.
“Less than six months,” he answered softly.
“Have any of your patients died yet?”
He froze, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the medical chart.
“No.”
“That’s good. I’ll be your first patient to die,” I said with a smile.
Looking at the sunlight outside the window, I let out a sigh.
“I really hope it’s a nice day like this when I die.”
Dr. Sean stood beside me not eaving a ward
ma
3:23 PM M
<
In the days that followed, I underwent chemotherapy.
Because chemo causes hair loss, Dr. Sean suggested I shave it all off.
I held up a mirror, looking at my long black hair. I used to love braiding it.
My brother would always tug on my braid to tease me.
Lucas also loved my hair, always saying: “My Ruby looks the most beautiful with long hair.”
I couldn’t help but cry.
I didn’t cry when I coughed up blood, when my stomach hurt, or when I was diagnosed with cancer.
But now I cried.
Because shaving my head meant I would become ugly.
“Dr. Sean, can you do it for me?” I asked, looking up at him.
I noticed his eyes were red too.
“Okay,” he said.
Then he started shaving my head.
Throughout the process, his hands kept shaking.
I grabbed his hand.
7
“It’s a big taboo to empathize too much with patients, Dr. Sean. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m just a bitch who deserves to die.”
“No,” he said firmly.
“You’re not a bitch. You’re the best Piggy.”
I was stunned.
He knew my account ID.
“I followed you,” he explained.
“I watched your food vlogs every day. I never imagined that such a cheerful girl was living such a difficult life in private.”
*I’m not suffering, I insisted.
But no one knew how much I was hurting inside.
