Chapter 2

My deformed fingers unconsciously gripped the wheelchair armrest.

That was from when Ella was three and ran into the street to grab a toy.

I saved her but got run over by an electric scooter.

Three of my fingers were nearly crushed and could never bend again.

But even then, I hadn't protected Ella well enough.

Her knee scraped against the gravel road, blood flowing freely.

When my mother arrived, she didn't even glance at me, rushing Ella straight to the hospital.

By the time she remembered me, the doctor said it was too late.

My fingers would never bend again.

Even so, my mother punished me when we got home.

"Anna, can't you put more effort into protecting Ella!"

I don't remember what the punishment was.

My mother had too many different ways to punish me.

But that disappointed shout and the pain of my broken fingers remained crystal clear in my memory.

After that, I protected Ella even more recklessly.

My gaze moved from my twisted fingers to Ella in the distance.

At home, she always sat quietly on the sofa.

Couldn't run, couldn't jump.

Carefully playing her role as a "porcelain doll."

But now she was jumping freely to reach the leaves overhead.

Chasing butterflies back and forth.

Her pale arms scraped against tree branches.

No bruises. No bleeding.

Just a faint red mark that quickly disappeared.

Ella had said, "How much longer do I have to keep up this porcelain doll act?"

So she really was like those comments said---she wasn't sick at all.

[To get Anna's protection, Ella has really suffered.]

[Playing "porcelain doll" at home every day must be suffocating.]

I lowered my eyes.

So this was what Ella called suffering?

When I looked up again, a familiar figure appeared beside Ella.

I couldn't help but sit up straighter.

Did my mother know Ella was faking?

The next second, I saw my mother gently tap Ella, her tone reproachful:

"What if Anna sees you like this?"

My breath caught.

Ella pouted impatiently:

"I've been pretending for fifteen years."

"I'm so tired. Can't you just stop having Anna pick me up from school? I can get home by myself."

She clung to my mother's arm, acting cute.

In the past, my mother always gave in when Ella acted cute.

But this time she shook her head, her tone leaving no room for argument:

"No. There are too many dangers on the way to and from school. Anna must protect you!"

I looked down at my broken body.

Ella's muttering drifted over:

"I'm not really a porcelain doll. Can't I just relax for this little bit of time?"

My mother rarely put on a stern face, even her tone becoming heavy:

"I said no and I mean it. You're a porcelain doll in my eyes, and you can't get hurt at all!"

Their voices gradually faded into the distance.

I stood behind the tree, almost turning into a statue.

Only when their figures disappeared around the corner did I slowly move my eyes.

So it was all fake.

They'd lied to me, tricked me into recklessly protecting Ella for fifteen years.