Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

Chapter 1 Book 5 I Died on the Day My Sister Married My Boyfriend

After the wedding, Lydia and Bronx returned to their new home, while I accompanied my stepfather and mother back to ours.

Nash drove, with my stepfather and mother in the back seat. My mother, beaming with happiness, praised Lydia for finding such a great partner and remarked how perfectly matched she and Bronx were.

Then laughing, she turned to Nash and playfully asked when they could expect to meet the special someone in his life.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

As she spoke, she held my stepfather’s hand and continued to boast about how well–behaved and accomplished her children were.

The mood in the car grew somber.

I guessed they were probably thinking of me.

Nash tightened his grip on the steering wheel and, with a forced smile, said, “Mom, it’s alright. When we get home, I’ll call Alison and ask her why she didn’t come, especially on such an important day for Lydia.”

My mother sighed and nodded.

I watched their expressions closely, hoping to catch a trace of guilt over my absence.

But there was none.

In the year I had been missing, no one had questioned if something had happened to me, no one had tried to reach out, and no one had cared to know where I was or what I was going through.

No one.

Today, their thoughts of me were nothing more than a fleeting mention.

More than anything, they seemed to think I was inconsiderate for not reaching out myself.

When Nash parked the car, he went straight to his room and called me.

Again and again, no answer. Frustrated, he opened the app and sent me messages, questioning why I wasn’t picking up and warning me never to think of escaping him.

Escape him?

I looked at my drifting self and thought, perhaps I have already managed to escape.

My stepfather knocked on the door and entered, asking Nash if he had managed to reach me.

Nash shook his head.

After a moment of silence, my stepfather asked, “Do you think she might…”

“No,” Nash cut off the thought sharply, extinguishing his cigarette. “She wouldn’t dare.”

I drifted over to my mother, only to find her staring at my photo.

I leaned in beside her to see it–it was a family portrait from when I was eight.

I was sitting in front with six–year–old Lydia. Behind us stood eleven–year–old Nash, flanked by my mother and stepfather in the middle, all of us smiling happily.

I remembered that it was our first family portrait.

I had woken up early with excitement, having matched my hairstyle to Lydia’s with identical little puffs.

My stepfather had kissed us both and, smiling, told my mother that our two little princesses were beautiful.

I often wondered if, had I acted a bit spoiled that day or found an excuse to reschedule the shoot, my life might have been as warm and healing as the sunshine on that day.

I saw my stepfather return to my mother and shake his head, indicating that even Nash had not managed to contact me.

My mother sighed and shifted the conversation to what dishes she should prepare when Lydia returned.

I looked over at Nash, who was still repeatedly calling and messaging me.

I wanted to tell him it was useless, that I couldn’t answer the calls, but realized he wouldn’t hear me if I did, so I refrained.

In the following days, I stayed at home, coldly observing their normal lives, as if my absence had been just a fleeting concern.

On the day Lydia returned, my mother had risen early, taking Nash to the market to buy fresh meat and vegetables.

Nash followed closely, carefully selecting items.

I hovered near him, watching intently.

I had to admit that Nash was strikingly handsome, but why did it seem that the more attractive someone was, the colder they became? He was so smart, fully aware that I was unlikely to escape his notice, yet he stubbornly refused to consider what might have happened to me.

On the way back from the market, we ran into my high school classmate Jenifer and her mother. Jenifer and I lived in the same city and worked in adjacent buildings. She frequently traveled for work and occasionally asked me to look after her Golden Retriever, so we were somewhat familiar.

Nash asked Jenifer if she had heard any news about me, mentioning that they had been unable to reach me and that I hadn’t even attended Lydia’s wedding.

Jenifer looked surprised. “I haven’t been able to reach Ally for almost a year. Not just me, but people from her workplace haven’t found her either. Didn’t you know?‘

My mother and Nash appeared bewildered and then offered a polite farewell before leaving.

As we neared home, Nash reassured my mother, saying he would search for me the next day.

They had bought a lot of items, all for Lydia and Bronx’s preferences. The bags were so numerous that as Nash set them down and took

out his keys to open the door, his phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw an unfamiliar number, but the area code was from the city where I worked.

“Mr. Rowse, this is the Baltimore Police Department. We have apprehended a suspect in a serious murder case. According to his confession, we have located information about your relative, Alison Rowse.”

“The suspect has confessed to the details of the crime. Could you and your family come to Baltimore?”

For the first time, I saw panic and helplessness on Nash’s face. His lips trembled as he said, “Mom, Alison…”