Chapter 5

The card had $1.2 million. I withdrew the cash and went to another bank next door, eventually securing a decent annual interest rate. I put $200,000 on WhatsApp, and $1 million in the bank.

In this 30-square-meter one-bedroom apartment, Donna’s things were everywhere. Although this place wasn't small, it was quite remote. If it weren’t for Donna, I wouldn’t have rented it.

Initially, I didn’t want to move in so soon with Donna, whom I had just started dating a month ago. But because she claimed to have bipolar disorder and feared being alone, I let my guard down.

Even now, I can’t distinguish whether my feelings for her were out of love or guilt after learning she had the same illness as my sister. Maybe I thought by doing this, I could finally untie the knot in my heart.

Speaking of which, she had a lot of stuff—couple mugs, matching outfits, and couple pillows, all bought by me. But seeing them everywhere was truly annoying, so I decided to pack them all into trash bags.

I stared at the trash bags in the corner, my gaze slowly overtaken by the blackness, and gradually relaxed as I fell asleep.

I dreamt of that afternoon again. I was coming home from work when I heard police and ambulance sirens. The sharp wails almost burst my eardrums. I stood among the crowd, watching my sister being carried onto a stretcher. The red dress she wore was as bright as blood, staining her pale wrists red. Her face was as white as jasmine, her long eyelashes drooping, just like when she used to wait for me to come home but fell asleep.

But this time, she would never open her eyes again, never run over and sweetly say that her brother was finally home.

A week later, I walked, step by step, towards my sister’s new home, holding an urn. My sister, she wouldn’t be coming back.