Chapter 3

The room erupted.

How could someone not remember their own birthday?

A wave of panic hit me.

Since I got sick, Mom had been getting more and more gray hair.

I'd heard that middle-aged people under prolonged mental stress could easily develop dementia.

Had Mom's condition already deteriorated this badly?

Tears blurred my vision.

My hands trembled.

Mom chose Dad as her lifeline.

Dad looked helpless:

"Your birthday is January 8th."

Mom nodded and pressed the answer button again.

But was suddenly stopped by my anxious brother.

"Mom, did you hear clearly?"

"What date is it exactly? Repeat it!"

At my brother's insistence, Mom repeated "January 8th" three times before being allowed to press the answer button.

But Mom still didn't speak.

Seeing Mom's nervousness, I endured the sharp pain in my heart and tried to comfort her:

"Don't be afraid, Mom. Just answer this one question and it'll all be over."

Mom smiled at me.

But her answer plunged me into ice-cold despair.

"My birthday is January 9th!"

The air froze instantly.

The host immediately tried to smooth things over:

"Your husband said your birthday is January 8th."

"Ms. Smith must have misspoken. Please answer again!"

But Mom's gaze was resolute:

"I didn't misspeak. I said it wrong on purpose."

The audience exploded.

My heart hurt so badly I couldn't straighten up.

The nurse tried to end the video call, but I stopped her.

"Mom... why did you deliberately answer wrong again?"

My voice shook with pain.

Mom's eyes filled with tears, but her tone was aggrieved:

"It's all your father's fault!"

Not just Dad—everyone was stunned.

Dad had told her the correct answer. What had he done wrong?

Under the host's questioning, Mom wiped her tears and revealed the truth.

"A few weeks ago was our twentieth wedding anniversary and my birthday."

"But Sean actually got the date wrong!"

"Sean! You said my birthday was January 9th, so now I'm making it come true!"

Dad's veins bulged with anger:

"I did accidentally get your birthday wrong."

"But those few days I was working consecutive all-nighters to earn medical expenses for Chloe! I was completely exhausted and confused, so I got the date wrong."

"I apologized afterward, and worked three more weeks of all-night delivery shifts to buy you a gold bracelet to make up for it. Isn't that enough?"

Mom said nothing, just bowed her head and wiped her tears.

The countdown kept ticking down.

The burning pain in my chest had become unbearable, cold sweat soaking the bedsheets.

Dad kept begging Mom to give the correct answer so they could get the money and rush me into surgery.

But Mom remained unmoved.

I was completely heartbroken.

So my life was just a tool for Mom to teach my family lessons.

Three minutes left on the countdown.

Using all my strength, I personally ended the livestream.

The doctors and nurses in the room all had red eyes.

My voice was barely a whisper, but utterly determined:

"Doctor, I want to sign an organ donation agreement."

"Also, after I die, I want my mom to witness the entire organ removal process!"

Mom, don't you love teaching people lessons?

Then today, I'll teach you one too!

The second I finished signing, excruciating pain engulfed my entire body.

Everything went black.

In the last second before I lost consciousness, I heard Mom roaring on the show:

"What are you all panicking about?"

"Chloe's illness isn't new—how could she suddenly die just like that?"

Dad was forced to his knees before Mom in front of a national audience, begging forgiveness and promising never to forget another important date.

Mom finally gave the correct answer in the last second before the countdown ended.

But it was already too late.