Chapter 2
When I regained consciousness, the familiar scent of disinfectant filled my nose. My mother was outside the door, crying softly.
She knew about my condition. I wondered how much more her hair would turn white this time. I sighed silently.
My sister was comforting her. I wanted to get up and see them, but my body felt like it was pierced by spikes, unable to move.
The sound of the dialysis machine was my lifeline.
Not long after, I heard my sister making a call.
"Lydia, my brother is in a coma in the hospital, and you're out having fun. Do you even have a heart?"
I didn't hear the response, but my sister was furious.
"My brother could have raised a dog for five years and developed feelings for it. If it weren't for him, you would have been ruined by Asher Williams five years ago. How do you even deserve to be my sister-in-law?"
Her voice faded away.
I recalled the life-and-death struggle in the hospital.
Five years, over eighteen hundred days, and I couldn't warm her heart.
The idea of time breeding affection was just a consolation for the disillusioned.
How laughable.
During the week I spent recovering in the hospital, my mother and sister took turns staying with me. I tried to forget everything related to Lydia.
When Wes brought the farm's accounts to me, my sister scolded him harshly.
"You've been with my brother for three years; haven't you learned anything? Even if my brother turns to ashes, you have to burn paper for him and ask how to handle a sow's premature birth, right?"
I smiled, making "ho ho" sounds, trying to smooth things over.
Wes was solid and reliable, and my sister was almost ready to marry him; I didn't want to cause a rift because of myself.
During this time, Lydia called.
My sister was on high alert.
I stared at the flashing number, deep in thought, and wrote a note on the whiteboard for my sister to relay.
The call connected, and her familiar soft voice came through:
"What do you want?"
After waking up, I called her over ten times, but she never answered. Now, she finally remembered me.
My sister snorted coldly:
"You're really busy; we won't serve you anymore. Just divorce my brother and get out of the Johnson family."
There was a long pause on the other end,
"Let Michael Johnson tell me that himself. If there's nothing else, I'll hang up. I'll be back on Sunday, tell him not to pick me up."
"Lydia, you..."
I patted my sister, calming her down.
She leaned on the bed, upset.
"Brother, make sure she leaves with nothing. Asher Williams is out, and Lydia deserves a jerk for a match.
"Brother, you have to be okay, wait for Lydia to regret it, and slap her hard in the face."
She forced a smile, but her eyes, swollen like walnuts, were brimming with tears.
Both kidneys failed, along with acute heart failure.
I became a mummy on the hospital bed, skin gray, unable to speak or walk.
The only thing I could give Lydia was the freedom she always wanted.
The lawyer soon came to finalize the divorce agreement, including my will.
When I could no longer sit up, I refused dialysis and wanted to be discharged.
The house was filled with new roses.
On Valentine's Day, Lydia threw aside the bag I gave her, saying everyone else had 999 roses.
Later I bought roses, and she scolded me for having no originality, tossing them all away.
I knew she liked them, so I picked them up and kept them alive.
In college, I also gave her roses, and she happily kissed me.
Like clouds brushing across my cheek, leaving a blush.
Then Asher Williams appeared, and my world was shrouded in darkness.
Roses wilt without water; she wouldn't see them when she returned.
My sister tearfully called me an idiot.
I stopped breathing at the end of summer, dying in the twentieth year of knowing Lydia.
Flashes of memories crossed my mind, recalling many moments with her.
In elementary school, I held her hand to buy candy at the store.
In middle school, I helped her with math, and she playfully distracted me with fruit.
In college, I pulled her out of a club, and she slapped me, telling me to get lost...
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