In the summer of our seventh year, I lost Royce Poynter. Even when I coughed up blood, he no longer panicked the way he used to.

Standing outside the clinic, I texted him: "Brother, my throat's feeling off. Can you come with me to the hospital?"

Royce replied instantly: "Your pharyngitis cleared ages ago."

"Laura, stop pretending."

A metallic taste surged in my throat.

"It's just a follow-up."

"Fine, then wait."

I sat obediently on the plastic chair outside the clinic, waiting for what felt like forever.

By the time the red color was pooling in my palms, Royce still hadn't shown up...

--

Before I closed my eyes, it never occurred to me that I would die so quietly at the entrance of a tiny clinic in the southern part of the city.

Back then, I just felt tired. I thought I'd just rest for a minute, and I'd see Royce soon.

I pictured him standing in front of me, scolding me for not taking my meds properly, asking why I'd run off to a place like this again.

I slowly closed my eyes, I tried to come up with reasonable excuses for asking him to accompany me—because he had always gone with me before, because my medical insurance card was still in his desk drawer, because if the doctor asked about my childhood tonsillectomy, he'd remember the details better.

Yeah, that was it.

It definitely wasn't because I missed him too much.

It wasn't.

But when I opened my eyes again, I saw my body slumped in the faded plastic chair.

My head was leaning against the wall, my eyelashes resting gently, completely still.

It was as if I were just sleeping peacefully.

My phone suddenly vibrated and slipped from my lap to the floor.

I instinctively reached down to pick it up, but my hand passed straight through.

I stared at my translucent fingertips.

The realization hit me slowly: I was already dead.

I'd died quietly, right at the entrance of a busy clinic.

I died in the time I was waiting for Royce to come get me.

The phone screen lit up, showing a text Royce had sent a minute earlier.

"Still waiting?"

"That proves you're not sick at all.

"Laura, you lied to me again."

"I didn't lie," I soundlessly protested. "I really didn't feel well."

I'd had chronic pharyngitis since childhood, and my tonsils were removed when I was sixteen.

But for the past six months, that foreign-body sensation had returned, and I would sometimes cough up blood.

Before that incident, Royce would have been terrified. He would have rushed me to the hospital immediately.

But after everything that happened, he never trusted me again.

He believed I would do anything to get what I wanted.

Royce had started acting like a parent since he was twenty because I'd always been sickly.

He was meticulous and strict, leaving no room for error.

He worried I'd catch a chill, fretted over me catching a cold.

He'd even check the temperature of my water and the dosage of my meds himself.

Every time I coughed or cleared my throat, Royce would grow anxious.

I loved Royce's attention and care. I'd always stick to him, declaring petulantly, "I won't wanna date anyone ever."

Then I'd wrap my arms tightly around his and shake him, warning, "And you're not allowed to date anyone either.

"You have to stay with me forever!"

Royce would smile and flick my forehead gently.

"Don't talk nonsense," he'd say, not sounding mad at all.

Afraid I'd get upset, he would add quickly, "Fine, I'll wait until you find a boyfriend. Happy now?"

I'd fall silent then, just tilting my head back to gaze at him for a long, long time.

Part of me wanted this moment to last forever, while the other part secretly hoped for something to change.

And things did change, but not in the way I'd hoped.

"I should've looked at him a few more times back then," I thought, staring at my own corpse.

I didn't even get to see him one last time.

Many people walked past me, but no one spared me a glance—after all, someone dozing outside a clinic wasn't unusual.

As I thought that, I saw a small hand pick up my phone from the floor.

It was the little girl who'd been sitting next to me earlier.

When I was still conscious, we'd chatted for a bit.

We even shared our cute nicknames nicely.

She called me Beautie, and I called her Sweetie Pie.

The girl glanced at the lit phone screen, seemingly trying to read the message.

But a six-year-old kid couldn't read much yet.

She frowned, then fixed her big, serious eyes on me for a long moment.

Then she put the phone back into my palm.

As if afraid of waking me, she whispered, "Beautie, you dropped your phone. You have to hold onto it, okay?"

After that, since I didn't reply, she ran back to her mom.

A few minutes later, the phone vibrated again, and the screen lit up.

Another message from Royce read: "I'm at Laurel Grove General now.

"If you wanna come, get a cab."

He let me wait for him. Why didn't he come?

Was Roy feeling unwell himself?

With that thought, my spirit shot up into the sky and instantly arrived at Mount Sinai Hospital.

The first thing I saw was Royce.

He was wearing a white coat, standing at the end of the hallway with his back to me, talking on the phone.

As slim and tall as ever, posture perfect as if nothing could ever rattle him.

I floated over, thinking I'd try to startle him, when I heard him say into the phone, "The doctor is checking Becca now. She should be fine. Don't worry."

Rebecca was his biological sister, swapped with me at birth.

Why was she here?

The next second, the exam room door opened.

Royce hung up and walked over, asking Rebecca, "Everything okay?"

"Roy, the doctor said I'm fine."

Rebecca grabbed his sleeve, frowned, and said. "But I still don't feel well. Will you stay with me?"

That drama queen, Rebecca, was totally faking it!

I was seething.

I floated over to choke her, but my hands just went right through her.

I stood right between them, watching as Royce gave a gentle smile and said, "Okay."

Royce was tall and handsome, his gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his gaze usually cool and detached.

When he wasn't talking, he had this distant, unapproachable vibe.

But when he smiled at me, I'd think he was the gentlest person in the world.

Royce hadn't smiled at me in a long time, though.

Royce's soft expression faded a little, and he said quietly, "But Laurie is supposed to come by later. I need to take her for a throat check-up."

A flash of resentment crossed Rebecca's eyes, but it disappeared right away.

She smiled, "Roy, you're the best, kindest person I know.

"Laura's not even your sister, and after how she lied to you, you're still so nice to her."

Maybe Rebecca's words brought back memories of me, and Royce's face darkened.

"This is the last time," he said.

"If she shows up again with her unreasonable demands, I won't see her."

I floated in the middle of the hallway that smelled of disinfectant.

I felt the hot wind from outside blowing in, passing right through me.

That was weird.

Why was my throat still hurting?

"It really is the last time."

I said quietly, "Roy, I won't bother you anymore..." because I'm already dead.

Rebecca was happy with Royce's answer. She pulled his arm and walked out.

They hadn't even left the door when Royce's phone rang.

I floated closer to him and heard the voice on the other end say, "Hello, Dr. Poynter, have you heard from Laurie?"

"Laura isn't my sister anymore."

Recognizing the voice, Royce frowned, his tone laced with impatience. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped using her as an excuse to contact my family."

It was my biological mother on the line.

Maybe it was the serious illness, or maybe the shame was too much to bear.

She fell silent for a second, then whispered weakly, her voice breaking, "It's all my fault.

"I shouldn't have been so foolish to swap Laurie and Becca when they were babies.

"But Laurie's innocent. Can you ... treat her like you used to?"

The whole thing unfolded like a cliché from a cheap novel or a soap opera.

I was the fake heiress of the Poynter family.

I'd been sickly since birth, and my birth mom was scared she couldn't raise me. She secretly swapped me with the Poynter family's newborn daughter.

It wasn't until recently, when she was diagnosed with terminal kidney failure, that she confessed the truth to the Poynters.

She took Rebecca to the front gate of the Poynter's villa, wailing, "I was wrong! I've been punished. I'm dying!

"Now I'm giving Becca back to your family. Please... Please let me see Laurie. She's my real daughter!"

When she finally saw me, she said. "The Poynter family cured your illnesses. You got a good deal.

"You lived like a princess with the Poynters for twenty years. Now it's Becca's turn."

I didn't really feel sad.

After all, what she said was true.

On Rebecca's second night living with the Poynters, she pretended to make peace with me.

She said she'd beg Mom and Dad to let me stay.

Foolishly, my face flushed, I said, "I want to stay too, but I don't want to be Royce's sister anymore."

Thus, I confessed my feelings to Royce.

I told him I was sad but also relieved. I told him I'd realized a long time ago that my feelings for him were anything but familial.

I said I wanted to be with him forever.

I was nervous but hopeful, staring straight into Royce's eyes without blinking.

But all I saw was coldness and disappointment on his face.

"Hmph," Royce scoffed. "Be with me forever?

"You mean you want to stay with my family and live a comfortable life forever?"

He pulled a voice recorder out of his pocket. It played a distorted version of my conversation with Rebecca from the day before.

Her voice, manipulated, said, "I have a way to stay.

"If I'm with Royce, the Poynters would never kick me out.

"I've been acting close to him on purpose. Now it's finally time to use him."

The sound of an approaching ambulance siren suddenly came from outside, pulling me out of my memories.

An ER doctor rushed past me, accidentally bumping into Royce.

He turned around to apologize, "We have a code blue. Sorry for bumping you!"

Royce paused for a second, then shook his head slightly to indicate it was fine.

Then he said into the phone, "So, I'm just supposed to let Laura manipulate and use me again with her innocent act?"

Royce sneered, "I guess being manipulative runs in the blood.

"Otherwise, why would she even think to confess to her own brother?"

A nurse's voice suddenly came through the phone, "Ma'am, if you don't pay the medical bills, we'll have to stop your medication..."

Royce heard that, and his eyes filled with sarcasm. "So that's it. Laura didn't come to see a doctor. She came to ask for money for you, didn't she?"

He hung up without waiting for the response.

He quickly opened his messages and typed, "Laura, don't bother coming.

"I'm not giving you a single cent."

I wasn't here to ask for money.

I'd never ask him for money again.

Even though I knew Royce couldn't see me, I took a step back.

I wanted to get farther away from him.

I could feel how much he disliked me—so much so that he believed the very worst of me.

"She's not coming. Let's go."

Royce didn't get a reply from me, so he stormed out of the building.

As he got in the car, the ambulance roared past and screeched to a halt in front of the building.

A stretcher covered with a white sheet was rushed inside.

Royce glanced at it in the rearview mirror, then quickly looked away.

The Audi started moving slowly, about to exit the hospital entrance, when the driver stopped the car.

Someone tapped on the back window. Royce rolled it down and saw the same ER doctor who'd bumped into him earlier.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Royce asked.

"Excuse me, is this yours?"

The doctor held out a single stethoscope earpiece.

It was matte silver encasing a soft, flexible rubber. I'd given it to Royce as a birthday gift last year.

He recognized it right away. He took it and said, "Yeah, it is."

"My apologies," the doctor said. "It must have snagged and fallen into my coat pocket when I bumped into you earlier."

Royce clenched the earpiece in his palm, nodded to thank the doctor, and rolled up the window.

The Audi started moving again.

Rebecca talked nonstop to Royce the whole drive.

Royce was mostly silent. He only gave short, simple replies when he had to.

But his grip on the earpiece never loosened.

I sat in the far corner, watching Royce's profile pass the chattering Rebecca.

I wondered if he was thinking about his birthday last year, too.

The earpiece was designed by a famous medical device designer.

It was ridiculously expensive.

I wanted to buy it with my own money.

Six months before Royce's birthday, I took on tons of translation jobs, working day and night. I saved up every penny until I had enough.

At midnight, I snuck into Royce's room secretly.

He was frowning, working on his thesis. But he smiled the second he saw me.

I stood in front of him and commanded, "Be serious. No smiling."

Then I told him to close his eyes.

Royce obeyed, but the corner of his mouth stayed lifted, like he couldn't help smiling.

The room was completely quiet.

I stared at Royce's handsome face, zoning out.

My ears were buzzing. I couldn't tell whose heartbeat was pounding so loud.

"Laurie?"

Maybe he was getting impatient, waiting.

Flustered, I shoved the velvet box at him. "You can open your eyes now."

Royce opened it and looked genuinely surprised.

"Help me put it on," he said, smiling.

I took out the earpiece and noticed my fingers were trembling slightly.

I ended up shoving the whole thing into his hand, blurting out, "Happy birthday!" before practically fleeing his room.

I lay back in my bed, replaying the moment over and over in my head.

One second, I worried I hadn't hidden my feelings well enough, and the next, I thought I wasn't mature enough.

There was a knock on my door soon after.

Royce walked in, pulled me out from under the covers, and said indulgently, "What did you run away for?"

I looked up at him, wanting to say "You have no idea", but I didn't.

Royce handed me a big gift box.

I opened it and saw a set of out-of-print medical books I'd been wanting for ages.

There was also a vintage fountain pen.

Either one was way more expensive than the earpiece.

It was a summer night, the evening breeze carrying the scent of jasmine into the room.

The fragrance was light and lingering, tangling with my breath.

"Do you like them?" Royce asked, messing up my hair with a playful grin.

His eyelashes cast a shadow. His eyes looked at me purely, like he was holding nothing back.

"I like them," I whispered, not daring to speak any louder.

The Audi wound its way up the long, tree-lined driveway of the Poynter's estate, coming to a halt before the villa.

Mom came out to meet them, her face full of concern. "How did it go? Is Becca alright?"

Royce said she was fine.

Rebecca pulled her usual stunt, hugging Mom and whining about still feeling unwell.

Mom looked awkward, comforted her a little, and told her to go back to her room to rest.

Seeing Mom still looked unsettled, Royce asked, "What's wrong, Mom? Are you feeling unwell?"

Mom pressed a hand lightly to her chest, frowning. "Becca's clearly fine, but I still feel flustered and uneasy.

"Has something happened to Laurie?

"The place she's staying now might be damp. That's not good for her throat.

"Can you go bring her home now?"

Royce smiled, reassuring her, "What could possibly happen to her?

"She's always been so dramatic. She acts like she's dying over the slightest ache, just to make everyone fuss over her.

"Besides, her pharyngitis cleared up ages ago."

Mom shook her head gently, still worried. "You were with Laurie when she was discharged after the surgery, so you didn't hear what the doctor told me.

"He said a successful childhood operation doesn't guarantee no issues in adulthood.

"Many kids with chronic pharyngitis need regular follow-ups as adults to prevent cancer."

Mom kept talking, not noticing Royce's face hardening instantly.

"Laurie's always smart. When she was fine, she'd act naughty to make us laugh and ease our worries.

"But when she was really unwell, she'd become so quiet and obedient.

"Do you remember that time Laurie coughed up blood at school?

"I was terrified. I rushed to the hospital and asked her why she went to school when she wasn't feeling well."

"Do you know what she said?

Tears welled up in Mom's eyes as she looked at Royce. "That sweet girl said she knew her condition was a burden and that it might kill her.

"If she had to die, she wanted to die somewhere far away, not at home.

"That way, we wouldn't be sad. We wouldn't feel scared when we got home..."

Mom's voice broke. She whispered, "Such a foolish child. Talking about herself like some stray kitten nobody wanted!"

Floating in the air, I desperately wanted to hug Mom and wipe her tears.

But I couldn't.

I really did die somewhere far from home.

I was like a stray kitten no one wanted.

Even though Rebecca was awful, I couldn't help but envy her.

She had such good biological parents and a brother.

Even her adoptive mom cared so much about her future.

She even risked going to jail to plan for Rebecca's future before she died.

Royce stayed quiet for a long time. His clenched jaw trembled slightly.

His face was gloomy. "She took the bus into the city. She's probably here to ask me for money."

Mom looked shocked. "How could that be?"

"Laurie didn't take the bank card we gave her or any of the jewelry we bought her.

"Why would she come back asking for money now?"

Royce's eyes flickered, but he still spoke coldly, "Her birth mom's hospital fees ran out. They're going to stop her medication."

Mom responded, "That's because she's being transferred! That's why the payment wasn't renewed.

"Out of gratitude for her raising Becca, we prepaid her medical bills at a superior hospital."

Royce's expression changed completely. "Really?"

"Yes!" Mom smiled. "Hurry and call Laurie. Ask her where she is.

"Tell her Mom and Dad are waiting for her at home."

I looked at Mom's face, feeling both blessed and miserable.

My mom was so kind.

If only I hadn't died...

Royce took out his phone and finally called me.

I listened to the monotonous ringtone, thinking blankly, "No one will ever answer that again."

But the next second, the call was answered.

The line was filled with chaotic noise, but no one spoke.

Royce snapped, "Laura, why aren't you replying to my messages?!"

A soft, startled gasp came from the other end.

Two seconds later, a little kid's voice said, "Are you the person Beautie is waiting for?"

Royce paused, his tone softening. "Who is this?"

"I'm Sweetie Pie!"

Royce was caught off guard. He spoke seriously, "Could you please put the owner of the phone on the line?"

"Hmm..." The girl sounded hesitant. She whispered, "But Beautie is asleep.

"She looked really tired. She's been sleeping for a long time.

"Mommy says good kids shouldn't disturb others' sleeping."

Royce's lips twitched in a mix of frustration and amusement. "When she wakes up, tell her to stay right there. I'll come pick her up soon."

"Who are you anyway?"

The girl added, "Are you the one she's waiting for?"

"Yes," Royce said.

The kid sounded confused. "No, you're not.

"Beautie said she's waiting for her brother.

"She said her brother is super nice and treats her really well, and that he's the best brother in the world."

Then she whispered, "But you were so mean just now...

"You're not as nice as she said you are."

Royce froze. Then he said, "Sorry."

After he hung up, Mom chided him gently, "She fell asleep? How could you let Laurie wait for you so long?"

Royce turned serious. "I'm just teaching her a lesson. Otherwise, she'll keep lying."

Mom looked at him worriedly. "Laurie was always the one you cherished most. Why are you so hard on her now? Just because she's not your biological sister?"

Royce didn't say anything. He just shook his head.

Mom went on, "You're always reserved, letting little bother you. Only those whom you really care about can get under your skin.

"But Laurie's so sensitive. Don't break her heart."

Was I heartbroken? Maybe a little.

When Royce said I was faking it, lying, that I was only there for money, my throat had hurt sharply for a moment.

Mom didn't know I'd confessed my feelings to Royce.

That was why she didn't understand why he was so mad.

He couldn't possibly care about me.

How could someone be so cruel to a person they cared about?

I still couldn't figure it out.

When Royce left the house, heavy rain was falling.

Caught in heavy traffic, the Audi was crawling along in stops and starts.

Royce rolled down the window to check the gridlock twice. He held back from urging the driver.

I sat next to him, not as close as I used to be when he picked me up.

As the car got close to the clinic, Royce took out his phone to text, "Can you walk to the entrance by yourself?"

He sent another one right away, "Never mind. Stay right there and don't move. I'm coming."

By the time the car was parked, Royce still hadn't gotten a reply.

He got out with a cold face, walking toward the clinic while muttering angrily, "Laura, you've really got an attitude now.

"Just wait until I..."

The words died on his lips as Royce's gaze locked onto something, utterly fixed.