I Gave a Kidney, They Gave Me Up

The year my younger brother was diagnosed with end-stage renal disease, I didn’t hesitate for a second—I gave him one of my kidneys.

As his older sister, it felt like my responsibility to save him.

The surgery was a success. Ryan bounced back, full of life, and became the family’s brightest hope.

Meanwhile, my body deteriorated daily due to severe organ rejection.

The costly anti-rejection meds quickly drained our family’s savings.

My parents, initially so grateful, began looking at me differently.

“Lily, can’t you skip a dose? We’re barely making ends meet.”

“Ryan just started his new job and has plenty of expenses. As his sister, can’t you be more understanding?”

“Lily, would you quit bringing up that kidney? I told you I’d pay you back once I’m earning!”

Yesterday was Ryan’s engagement party.

Wracked with pain, my hand trembled and I accidentally dropped the gift from his fiancée, Chloe.

In front of all our relatives, Mom slapped me across the face.

“You just can’t stand your brother’s success! You want to drag us all down with you!”

“If life’s so painful, why don’t you just die already?!”

Staring at the shattered pieces on the floor, I suddenly didn’t feel like explaining anymore.

I took my last breath right there in front of them—exactly what they wanted.

But they never knew I’d stopped taking my life-saving medication a month earlier

to save money for Ryan’s upcoming wedding.

The cramping in my abdomen felt like a hand was tearing my insides apart.

A coppery taste rose in my throat.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate not to cough up blood.

Mom was obsessive about cleanliness, and this carpet had just been replaced for Ryan’s engagement. If I stained it, she’d lecture me for hours.

Earlier, I’d merely trembled from pain and knocked over Chloe’s expensive collagen jar.

Mom’s slap hit hard across my face.

It stung like hell, but surprisingly, my heart felt completely calm.

Because this was the end.

From now on, I’d never make her angry again. Never be a burden to this family again.

I wanted to go back to my room and lie down.

Passing through the living room, Ryan frowned in annoyance, brushing off his suit jacket.

“Seriously, she just had to ruin a perfectly good day.”

“Mom, next time relatives come over, keep her in her room. Having a sick sister like her is so embarrassing in front of Chloe’s family.”

Mom gently smoothed Ryan’s collar.

“Just ignore her. She’s just acting out because she’s jealous of your engagement. It’s her usual drama—she gets worse the more attention you give her.”

Dad sat on the couch smoking, not even glancing my way.

“Get back to your room! Don’t just stand there looking like a ghost! That dead expression on your face makes me sick!”

I hung my head and whispered,

“I’m sorry.”

My voice was so faint it got swallowed up by the cheerful TV noise.

I went back to the storage room—less than five square meters.

This was my bedroom now.

Ever since they cleared out the master bedroom for Ryan and Chloe after the wedding, I’d moved in here.

No windows, just a creaky folding bed.

I fumbled in the dark under the bed and pulled out my pill bottle.

It was already empty.

The doctor had warned I wouldn’t live more than a month without this medication.

Today was exactly day thirty-one.

Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to die. I’d just wanted to save money.

Last month, I’d overheard Mom and Dad doing calculations in their room.

They were still ten thousand dollars short for Ryan’s wedding.

And my year’s supply of medication cost exactly ten thousand dollars.

Mom had sighed and said, “If it weren’t for Lily and her endless medical bills, Ryan would’ve been married long ago.”

That’s when I decided—I wouldn’t take the medication anymore.

I wanted to be the mature one for once.

I wanted Mom and Dad to be proud of me, like they were of Ryan.

The excruciating pain returned, worse than ever.

I curled up on the folding bed, my body contorted like a shrimp.

Cold sweat soaked through my clothes.

Laughter and cheerful voices drifted in from outside.

They were discussing wedding decorations, what kind of jewelry to buy Chloe.

It sounded so lively.

I wanted to go out too—just to get a glass of hot water.

But I couldn’t.

I was afraid I looked too terrible—afraid they’d accuse me of “faking it for attention” again.

My vision started to blur.

I grew colder and colder, like I’d fallen into an ice cave.

I managed to pull the thin blanket over my head.

That way, if Mom found me first,

she wouldn’t see how bad I looked right after I died.

She got queasy easily—last time she saw my dialysis needle marks, she looked disgusted.

I couldn’t upset her like that.

Breathing got harder—my lungs felt empty, like they’d been sucked dry.

In my final moments, I thought I heard Mom’s voice.

“Lily! Quit pretending and get out here to wash the dinner dishes!”

Mom, this time I really can’t.

Next life, I’ll be a healthy daughter.

No more meds, no more bills, no more worrying you.

Darkness swallowed me completely.