Thanks for Taking My Ruin, Dear Sister!

The day my parents divorced, two agreements lay on the table.

One meant staying in the old neighborhood with my dad, who was drowning in gambling debts.

The other meant moving to the coast with my mom, who’d remarried a wealthy man.

In my last life, my little sister, Chloe, cried and begged for Mom. I quietly packed my bags and followed Dad.

Later, Dad quit gambling and became a millionaire, spoiling me rotten.

Chloe, however, was emotionally abused and trapped at home by her stepfather. She eventually succumbed to depression and passed away.

This time around, Chloe snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tight, refusing to let go.

“Jade, I feel for Dad. You go to Mom’s, okay? I’ll keep the good life here for you.”

Dad paused, then affectionately stroked Chloe’s head, a look of relief on his face.

I said nothing, picking up the train ticket for the coast.

Chloe didn’t know that in my last life, Dad only quit gambling because I, riddled with a brain tumor, worked myself to death to pay off his debts, coughing up blood. My life was the price for his temporary peace.

Now, reborn, with no debt collectors banging on the door, all I wanted was a good night’s sleep.