They Chose Her Over Me In Two Lives Chapter 04
The next morning, I opened the door to find my parents and Ryan standing there with a fancy cake cart, ribbons trailing from the handle.
The housekeepers cheered. “Happy birthday!”
I tucked my backpack behind me, hiding it against the wall.
But I still asked, my voice small.
“But Mom, Dad, Ryan—today isn’t my birthday.”
Ryan said, sulking, “We know. Today is Jade’s birthday. We were afraid you’d feel left out, so we took her birthday and gave it to you.”
I looked up.
Jade sat on the sofa, her eyes red, her hands folded in her lap like she was holding something in.
I didn’t understand.
I asked, honestly, “If you want to make it up to me, just celebrate my birthday later. Why take hers?”
Mom’s voice rose, sharp enough to make the room go still.
“Enough, Lily!”
“We’ve done everything we can. Isn’t that enough for you?”
I saw the blame in their eyes, clear and cold.
I didn’t dare speak again.
I looked at the cake tower, taller than me, layered with pink and white frosting.
I gave in.
This was the first—and last—birthday I’d spend with them.
The party began.
Maybe because I smiled for once, my parents’ and Ryan’s faces softened, just a little.
Then came the cake-cutting.
A housekeeper rushed in, breathless, her face pale.
“Miss Jade is having an asthma attack!”
The room went silent.
My parents stood up. Ryan’s hand—the one holding my crown—let go, and the crown slipped sideways on my head.
But Mom glanced at me.
She gritted her teeth.
“We’re celebrating Lily’s birthday tonight. She’ll have to deal with it.”
Ryan added, “She has medication. She doesn’t need us.”
The housekeeper left.
But their hearts had already drifted, pulled away like leaves in a current.
Their smiles were nervous. Their eyes kept flicking toward the stairs.
They sang off-key.
Then came the crash from upstairs, heavy and sudden.
Then the housekeeper’s scream, high and panicked.
“The medicine is missing! Miss Jade is dying!”
My parents and Ryan panicked.
They knocked over the cake—the one I hadn’t even tasted—searching for the medicine, hands shoving plates and candles aside.
I watched the little figure of me on top of the cake get trampled, frosting smeared across the floor.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
I picked up my bag and obediently stepped aside.
Then Mom froze.
She rushed over and grabbed my bag, her fingers digging into the canvas.
“Open it!”
Her eyes were terrifying. Like she was looking at an enemy.
The adoption petition was in my bag.
Mrs. Walsh had told me not to let them see.
I held the bag tight against my chest.
“No.”
But Mom’s face twisted, and something in her broke loose.
“Lily, it’s you. It’s always been you.”
Dad and Ryan ran over and ripped the bag from my hands.
Everything spilled out across the floor.
A bottle of medicine—foreign labels, foreign words, small and white.
I froze.
I didn’t know how it got there.
But I was relieved.
The adoption petition was covered in frosting. They didn’t see it.
Mom slapped me across the face, hard enough that my ears rang.
“How could you be so cruel?!”
“She hasn’t hurt you in this life. And you still couldn’t leave her alone.”
I covered my face and tried to explain through tears.
No one listened.
No one stopped to think.
I was a child raised in a group home.
I hadn’t even been in school long.
How would I read foreign labels? How would I know it was Jade’s asthma medicine?
After they saved Jade, Ryan dragged me out the door, his grip tight around my wrist.
He threw me onto the porch, and I stumbled, catching myself on my hands.
“Get out!”
“Go far away! We don’t want you anymore!”
My parents watched. Neither stopped him.
I sobbed, clutching my small, worn bag against my chest.
Across the street, I saw the overseas couple waiting for me.
It was time.
I bowed to them—to my parents, to Ryan—my voice hoarse and quiet.
“Well, Mom, Dad, Ryan. I’m leaving.”
Ryan slammed the door.
From inside, I heard his cold laugh.
“Leave? Where would you go? Back to the group home?”
“You tried that trick in your past life. It doesn’t work on us.”
I turned and walked toward the couple.
- I said to myself: This time, I’m not coming back.
