Chapter 3

Dead silence. All four of them looked up at me at once, each with a different expression.

Mom froze, her chopsticks hanging in midair. Dad frowned, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes.

James set down his bowl, looking completely baffled. Only Emily kept her head lowered, but I could see her eyes flickering.

Mom spoke first. "What did you say?"

There was no shock in her tone. No concern either. Just suspicion.

Like she was really asking, 'What nonsense are you spouting now?'

I stood there, looking her in the eye.

I stood there, looking her in the eye, and repeated every word slowly. "I have leukemia. Acute myeloid leukemia."

"It was found in today's checkup."

Mom's expression shifted. But not into the panic or heartbreak I'd imagined.

It turned into doubt. Disbelief.

She put down her chopsticks and wiped her mouth.

"How could you suddenly have leukemia for no reason?"

"Do you work at the hospital and see too many patients, so now you're scaring yourself?"

"I'm telling you, you're the kind of person who thinks too much. You sit there all day imagining things, and now you've imagined yourself sick too."

After that, she turned to look at Dad.

"Am I wrong?"

Dad nodded, his tone full of scolding.

"Exactly. You've always loved trapping yourself in dead ends since you were little."

"I told you before, girls shouldn't think too much. Life's easier when you're a little less serious."

"Look at your sister. So cheerful, so easy to love."

As he said it, he even patted Emily on the shoulder.

Emily looked up and gave me a sweet smile.

"Helen, have you been under too much pressure at work lately?"

"Want me to go with you to see a therapist?"

Her eyes were full of calculation when she said it.

James was even more direct.

He slammed his chopsticks down on the table, his face full of irritation.

"Helen, can you stop pulling this crap every time you come back?"

"What do you want this time? Attention?"

"I'm telling you, we're all adults now. Quit these childish stunts."

"It's honestly pathetic, you know that?"

After that, he picked up his bowl and kept eating. Like I'd just told a joke.

I stood there, looking at them. My heart felt like it had been dropped into ice water.

"I'm not joking."

My voice was light, but every word came out clear.

"I brought the lab report home. My white blood cell count is dangerously high, and the blast cell ratio is eighty-five percent."

"The doctor said I need a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible, or else..."

"Enough, enough."

Mom cut me off impatiently.

"If you were really sick, why would the hospital still let you work?"

"Why hasn't a doctor admitted you?"

"Look at you. You seem perfectly fine. Your face is nice and rosy. How do you look sick at all?"

After saying that, she picked up a piece of meat and put it in her mouth, then kept eating.

As if the subject was already over.

As if my illness wasn't worth even one more second of discussion.

Dad chimed in too.

"Exactly. Stop scaring yourself."

"If you ask me, you're just too idle and overthinking everything."

"Go back, do your job, make more money. That's more useful than anything else."

Then he picked a piece of fish for Emily.

"Emmy, eat more. Look how thin you are."

Emily smiled brightly and said,

"Thanks, Dad."

Then she looked up at me, the smugness in her eyes even stronger.