The Poor Soul Who Never Knew Love

I’m going to die. But no one cares. So I’ll wish for no afterlife. Let’s never meet again.

1 When Lucas Thorne walked out with his suitcase, I was a small, shivering bundle, swallowed by my overcoat as I curled up on the sofa. He paused, his back ramrod straight, and glanced over his shoulder just once. In the silent, sterile light of the afternoon, he offered no final words. He just left. And I… I never even lifted my head. The door clicked shut. My head remained bowed for a long, long time before I finally found the strength to look up, to face the light pouring in from the window. It felt like the whole world had abandoned me. My own husband didn’t want me anymore. He, too, believed I was rotten to the core. And he was right. I didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness. My hand, trembling, found its way to my stomach. Just a week ago, a tiny, four-month-old baby was nestled here. But it slipped away, silent and unseen. I was so lonely. All I ever wanted was a little baby of my own. I would have taught him to read, to sing, to say ‘Mama.’ But that dream was gone now. The title of Mrs. Thorne was never meant for me. This was my punishment, wasn’t it? For stealing a role that belonged to someone else. I slumped against the arm of the sofa, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. “I think… I think I’m really out of strength.” After sitting there for what felt like an eternity, I slowly rose and walked to the console table. I picked up the silver picture frame and laid it face down. Some say love is forever. But for me, love was over.

2 My hand was steady as I flicked the lighter, the tiny flame dancing as I held it to the corner of the heavy curtain tassel. Then, the phone rang, shrill and insistent. I turned my head, hesitating for a second, but I let it ring. It didn’t stop. It just kept calling, a relentless demand. Finally, I picked it up. “Hello?” “Why didn’t you answer?” The voice was cold, impatient. My mother. I watched the flame catch, a small orange flower blooming on the fabric. “Is something wrong?” “Stella’s liver… they’re saying there’s a problem. You need to go to the hospital and get tested as a match.” I coughed, a dry, racking sound. “Are you even listening to me?” I nodded, though she couldn’t see. The smoke was getting thicker, clawing at my throat. I coughed again, harder this time. “I understand.” “What’s with that cough?” “Too much smoke,” I rasped. “Something’s burning.” I didn’t wait for a reply. I dropped the phone, grabbed the small fire extinguisher from the kitchen, and blasted the nascent flame until it was nothing but a charred, ugly smudge. When the fire was out, I tossed the extinguisher aside and collapsed onto the scorched corner of the sofa, gasping for air. Finally, my hand moved to rest over my liver. My liver? Fine. If this was one last way I could help Stella, then maybe… maybe it would be enough to atone for my sins.

3 When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were already waiting outside her room. “What took you so long?” my mother snapped, her foot tapping impatiently on the polished floor. My gaze was flat, lifeless, as I took in the two people who had given me life but never a home. My father eventually placed a restraining hand on her arm. “That’s enough,” he murmured. He led the way into the hospital room. My eyes immediately found the bed, but the first person I saw wasn’t my sister. It was Lucas. My gaze dropped to the floor, deliberately ignoring the flicker of shock in his eyes. “I have to get to the office,” he said, rising to his feet. He gave my parents a stiff nod. For a man who was always so composed, he seemed almost flustered as he brushed past me. I lifted my head and stared out the window. Of course. He had never kept vigil at the hospital for me, not during either of my miscarriages. I had told myself it didn’t hurt anymore. But in that moment, a familiar sting pricked my eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came. My eyes were dry again.

4 The person on the bed was pale and still, lost in a deep, colorless sleep. I raised my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” my mother’s voice was a harsh command. My hand simply settled on my sister’s head, gently smoothing a few stray strands of hair. Only after I was done did I turn to face them. “The compatibility test. When does it start?” My father seemed momentarily taken aback by the dead, cold calm in my voice. Just then, the doctor walked in. “Is she here?” he asked, before his eyes landed on me. He froze for a second, his professional demeanor faltering.

5 “You’re not a suitable candidate for this test.” I said nothing. “Nora, are you deaf?” my mother hissed. “Go home.” “I can do it,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, directed at the doctor. “Please.” With that, I turned and walked out of the room. “You—” the doctor started, following me into the hallway. “You just had a miscarriage a few days ago. Are you trying to kill yourself?” I paused at the door, my back to him. “It’s just a test. It won’t kill me.” Behind me, I heard him let out a long, weary sigh.

6 The number of tests they ran was endless. I ended up staying at the hospital for three days, figuring it was a good enough place to rest and recover. Finally, on the third day, it was over. I made my way up to the fifth floor, to the premium private suites. The sight of the perfect little family unit—father, mother, and daughter, all gathered together—made me stop in my tracks. It was my father who saw me first, beckoning me over. I nodded and stepped inside. “Dad, Mom. Stella.” “Well?” my mother asked immediately. “Are the results back?” “Not yet.” “I’m heading home now,” I said. My eyes met Stella’s for a fleeting second. She looked away almost instantly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “Fine, you can go,” my mother said, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. I nodded again. Just as I reached the door, my father called out. “Nora. I think Lucas must have dropped this. Could you take it to him?” I turned. He was holding out a small, intricately carved silver locket. It hung from a delicate chain, catching the light. I stared at it, frozen. “We found it the day Lucas was here.” My eyes instinctively flickered to Stella and my mother, then back to the locket. Reluctantly, I reached out and took it. “Okay.” As the door closed behind me, I heard their hushed voices. “What are you doing? Are you afraid she won’t get to see him enough?” “Something is wrong between them. I’m afraid they’re not going to make it.” I walked down the silent corridor and didn’t look back.

7 Thorne Enterprises. I waited for half an hour before Lucas finally finished his meeting. He strode into his office, and the moment he saw me, a frown creased his forehead. I drained the last sip of cold tea from the cup in my hand and stood up, holding out the locket. “I just came to give you this.” His eyes fell to the object in my palm, and his frown deepened with impatience. He didn’t take it. Was it because my hands had touched it? Was I that repulsive to him now? I turned and placed the locket on the polished surface of his massive desk. I gave a small nod, ready to leave. “Wait.” He walked towards the desk as I walked towards the door. I stopped. “Is there something else?” He gestured to the sofa. “Sit.” I stood there, motionless, for a few seconds. He took off his suit jacket but didn’t speak, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. I decided to break the silence. “Are you here to ask if the test was a success?” I was about to say the results weren’t back yet, but my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. At the same moment, his phone buzzed on the desk. I understood. He had been monitoring the results from the hospital all along. A small, bitter smile touched my lips. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go home. I should rest up, make sure I’m in the best possible condition for the surgery.” I was about to pull the door open when he spoke again, his voice strained. “Nora, after the transplant… let’s try to make this work. For real.” My hand froze on the doorknob. What… what did he just say? Was he finally willing to accept me? To accept the woman he had called the most wicked, manipulative person he knew? But… I don’t want to make it work with you anymore, Lucas. I’m so tired. So, so tired. I didn’t answer him. I just opened the door and walked away.

8 Back home, I put a whole chicken on to simmer and then left the kitchen. Adrift and empty, I turned on the television, the noise a meaningless buzz in the background. Eventually, I drifted off, a half-eaten bowl of soup on the coffee table, the TV screen flickering in the dark. When I woke the next day, I was still on the sofa. The house was silent, save for the soft rustle of sunlight filtering through the curtains. This place was too big. Too empty. I should get a cat. The thought was a sudden impulse. I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through pictures of kittens from a local shelter. I even picked one out, a little calico with big, curious eyes. Then I closed the app. A cat? No. A pet is a commitment for life, not a momentary whim to fill the silence.

9 A week before the surgery, I was admitted to the hospital. My mother came to visit. She sat for a long time, and we didn’t exchange a single word. She didn’t speak, and I had nothing to say. “I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, staring at the floor. “All the private rooms on the fifth floor were taken. Otherwise, your father and I would have booked one for you.” I just nodded, turning my head to look out the window. “You used to be such a sweet talker when you were little. I don’t know what happened to you.” She sighed and stood up. “Well, I’m going back upstairs. I’ll come see you again later.” “Okay.” She left. My gaze drifted to the chair where she had sat, and to the basket of fruit she had left on the floor beside it. A small, humorless smile played on my lips. The way she had clutched the basket, shifting her weight awkwardly before scurrying out—it was almost comical. She felt guilty? Was that even possible? I really couldn’t understand her. Couldn’t she have just left the fruit upstairs with Stella and then come down to see me? But no. She detested me. Why would she ever make a special trip just for me?

10 Today was the last round of pre-op checks. The surgery was tomorrow. I returned to my room, clutching a folder full of my medical reports. The room was as cold and empty as ever. I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind adrift. Why was it so quiet? Oh, right. Lucas. Didn’t he say he wanted to “make things work”? He never came home during the days I was recovering. He hadn’t visited me once during the week I’d been in the hospital. Was this his idea of trying? No. He said after the surgery, we’d make things work. I knew what it really meant. It wasn’t about love. It was about debt. He felt he owed me, and he was willing to pay with the rest of his life. As long as Stella was healthy, he would have nothing left to wish for.

11 The day of the surgery. Just as Stella and I were about to be wheeled into the operating theater, Lucas arrived, rushing down the hall. “Dad, Mom, I’m so scared,” Stella whimpered. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” my mother cooed, adjusting the surgical cap on Stella’s head. “Just think of it as taking a nap. The doctor said you’ll be perfectly healthy when you wake up.” “Are they going in now?” Lucas asked, breathless. “Yes.” Stella pulled her hand from our mother’s grasp and reached for Lucas. He instinctively moved to take it. But then, she drew her hand back, offering a weak smile instead. “Lucas, you came.” His hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at me, then quickly retracted it. “Yes. It’s a very advanced procedure now. Don’t be afraid.” “Okay.” She smiled again. “You should say something to Nora. She’s been waiting for you.” Lucas nodded and turned to me. But his lips seemed sealed, weighed down by a thousand unspoken words. He just stared. The surgical team, scrubbed and masked, moved in. “Alright, it’s time to go. Family, please clear the way.” The gurneys began to roll. In that last moment, fear finally broke through Stella’s composure. She reached out again, her voice a desperate whisper of the name that was always on her lips. “Lucas.” “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his hand briefly touching the rail of her gurney as she was wheeled past him. My gurney was in the lead. I watched the whole scene unfold with a strange, detached calm. Quietly. Peacefully. The heavy doors of the operating room began to slide shut, slowly eclipsing Lucas’s tall, solitary figure. I closed my eyes. Just as the anesthesia began its cold creep through my veins, I heard a soft voice beside me. “Thank you, Nora. For being willing to do this for me.” As consciousness faded, I managed a final whisper. “You’re welcome.”

12 A long, numb dream. It was a kaleidoscope of fractured images and muffled sounds. I felt like I was blindfolded, wandering through an empty corridor. A voice seemed to echo from nowhere. If you had known this life would be like this, would you still have chosen to come? I turned towards the voice, but there was nothing there. The scene shifted. I was floating above an operating room. Doctors were huddled, their voices low and urgent. “Why did they take so much?” “The consent form said seventy percent, didn’t it?” “Seventy? That’s insane. Can the donor even recover from that?” … Wasn’t I still alive? Why did I feel so light, like my body was drifting away? I floated further, watching the scene below. There was so much blood on the operating table. So much. “They’re sisters, you know. But the mother clearly favors the older one. It’s like she wanted them to take more, just to be sure.” “And the younger one didn’t object?” “She just looked at the form, then stared out the window. Didn’t say a word.” “God, I just wanted to go over and hug her.” I didn’t know where I was drifting. I just kept floating away.

13 Four days later. I slowly opened my eyes. My limbs felt like they were nailed to the bed, heavy and without sensation. Only my eyes could move, darting around the stark white room. “You’re awake.” A young nurse leaned over me, her face breaking into a kind smile. I managed a small nod. “Would you like some water? I can help you.” “Thank you…” I rasped. She poured a small cup of water and placed a straw to my lips. The simple act of swallowing sent a searing pain through my entire body. “Easy does it,” she said gently. “Just sip slowly.” After two small sips, she took the cup away. “My sister,” I whispered, “she…” “Stella Hayes? She woke up yesterday. Already moved out of the ICU.” Good. That was good. I nodded again, relieved. “Um…” the nurse started, then hesitated. I slowly turned my gaze to her. She seemed to be steeling herself. “Are… are you two really sisters?” I let my eyelids fall shut. “And that handsome man… is he your husband? Or… your sister’s?” Her voice was a mixture of curiosity and pity. I could guess what had happened in the ICU over the past few days, while both Stella and I lay unconscious. I didn’t answer. I just let the heavy darkness pull me back under.

14 Two days later, I was moved out of the ICU. There was still no private room available. I used my phone to hire a private care aide to help me with medications and errands. Most of the time, I just slept. My body was overwhelmed by a profound exhaustion. Logically, I should have been getting stronger each day. But I just couldn’t seem to wake up. I wanted to go home, but I didn’t even have the strength to get dressed. I didn’t want to be a burden on the hospital’s resources, so I just prayed for the day I’d have enough energy to leave. One afternoon, my mother came to see me. She had brought soup. The aide was setting up my tray table for dinner when my mother dismissed her. She opened the thermos, and the rich aroma of fish broth filled the air. “Don’t eat that hospital food,” she said, her head bowed as she poured the soup. “It has no nutrition. Drink this.” For the first time, I felt something other than contempt from her. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t look at me; it was that she couldn’t bear to look at me. I knew what I must look like. So thin my chin had become a sharp point. I reached for the spoon, but my hand, bruised and swollen from countless IVs, trembled violently. She took the spoon from me, lifted the bowl, and brought a spoonful to my lips. “Here.” I stared at her for a long moment, then opened my mouth and sipped the warm liquid. One spoonful after another. She fed me with a quiet, tireless patience. That afternoon, even the sunlight streaming through the window felt warm. When the soup was gone, she closed the thermos and sat for a while longer. “Is there anything else you want to eat?” I shook my head. “I’m full.” She nodded and continued to sit in silence. I noticed a few strands of silver in her dark hair. The hospital vigil must have taken its toll. “Well, I’m going back,” she said finally. “I’ll come see you again.” I nodded. As she walked around the foot of the bed, a wave of anxiety washed over me. “Mom,” I called out, my voice weak. “Is Stella… is she doing better?” She nodded. “She’s recovering very well. She’s already been dischar—” She stopped abruptly, realizing her mistake. I froze. Stella was already home. My mother’s face flushed with embarrassment. But I just smiled. “That’s good. I’m glad.” She nodded quickly and hurried out of the room. As her footsteps faded down the hall, a desperate urge to see her one last time seized me. I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and shuffled out into the corridor. I watched her retreating back grow smaller and smaller. Will you really come back next time? No. Probably not. But that was okay. Don’t come back. I was being discharged soon, too. Her figure disappeared around the corner. And the tears finally fell, silent and slow. It was just like when I was a child, abandoned at the amusement park. I had watched that same back walk away, growing smaller and smaller, no matter how fast I ran. No one knew. I was lost at three. I didn’t find my way back to the Hayes family until I was thirteen. And no one, no one knew that in those ten lost years, I had endured countless beatings, been tricked and betrayed more times than I could count. And when I finally came home, nobody liked me anyway. They said my eyes looked greedy. Selfish. That I was a bad seed. None of that ever really hurt me. The thing that broke me, the thing I carried like a stone in my heart, was the truth I finally confirmed. It was never about getting lost. It was about being left. Mother, that year, you abandoned me on purpose.