At dinner, there was no pasta for me, only a table full of seafood.
Xena, peeling shrimp that Mom had prepared for her, said, "This entire table is filled with the foods you love. You've always loved seafood since you were little, even though it's not good for someone with uremia!"
"But you'll be healthy soon, so it's fine to eat a bit!"
On the very first day back, Mom had peeled a shrimp for me, and that night, I was rushed to the hospital due to an allergic reaction.
At the time, Mom had apologized, saying, "I thought all children loved seafood!"
Mom had forgotten that I wanted pasta, and also forgotten that I was allergic to seafood. The entire seafood feast was something I couldn’t eat.
I lowered my head, silently shoveling rice into my mouth. Tears unknowingly fell into my bowl, making it taste both salty and bitter.
"You’ll be able to have your surgery the day after tomorrow, right? I have to hurry back to Paris for school!" Xena mumbled.
Mom immediately beamed, gesturing cheerfully, "Sure, we’ll go to the hospital tomorrow to start preparations!"
I choked down my food, then hurriedly left the table.
That evening, Xena came to my room and disdainfully scanned it.
"You really have no conscience. Your real parents have treated you so well, and you leave them just for money!" Xena signed with her hands.
I was surprised to see that she could sign.
"I didn’t grow up in the countryside like you, living in comfort. There are many things I need to learn. Sign language was just something I picked up."
"You'll regret leaving your real parents," she said dismissively, then turned and left the room.
I didn’t understand why everyone thought I had been living a life of luxury with my foster parents, as if raising me was their greatest blessing.
But without them, I would have grown up just fine. It was they who took everything from me.
Yet they called me an ingrate, accusing me of abandoning my real parents for the sake of money.
No one could endure constant abuse and scolding every day. Even without rich parents, I had always planned to leave.
Soon, both Xena and I were hospitalized for observation.
Even my foster parents showed up. They all crowded around Xena's bed, offering concern and well-wishes.
My own room felt cold and isolated by comparison.
While getting water, I ran into my foster father again.
He grabbed the collar of my shirt. "You think you deserve such a good hospital bed?"
"This is all thanks to Xena. You’re only enjoying this because of her."
He snatched the thermos cup from my hands, a greedy smile creeping onto his face. "This thermos must’ve cost a pretty penny, right? Got any money to show your gratitude?"
"Do you know how worried I am? How could you be so thoughtless?"
I bitterly pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Mom, you don’t need to sign. I can hear you."
Her face froze, and her eyes widened in panic. "Coco, listen to Mom—let me explain!"
"I know everything. You want me to donate my kidney to save Xena, but Mom, I don’t want to."
She frowned in anger. "How can you be so selfish? Her parents raised you. You owe her!"
"And you have two kidneys. Losing one won’t be a problem!"
I stared at her in disbelief, not understanding how the mother who once loved me could become like this.
Or maybe, in her eyes, Xena had always been the most important.
I didn’t want to explain anymore. I ended the call and planned to leave the city.
But they wouldn’t let me go. The next day, at the train station, I was grabbed in the restroom.
"Are you Coco Smith?" someone asked. "Your mom’s looking for you!"
Confused, I looked at her as she pulled out a video and handed it to me. "Watch this."
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