Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

After the New Year, I noticed a change in Alison. She often seemed lost in thought, her vibrant spirit vanished. She resembled an elderly person nearing the end of their days, devoid of hope.

I was puzzled by her behavior. She refused to communicate with me, shutting me out.

Later, she took a two–week leave. Whenever

I had time, I lingered downstairs at her apartment. Surely she would come out, and I would see her, right? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.

What if, simply, she didn’t want to see me?

While I was indecisive, I felt her gaze. I looked up, but instead of seeing her, I saw a young man, bare–chested and with a disdainful expression, watching me. He didn’t look for long. Noticing I saw him, he quickly drew the curtains.

But isn’t that Alison’s room?

When I saw Alison again, I noticed she had lost a lot of weight. Her school uniform hung on her like a large, fluttering curtain, as if it might blow away at any moment.

She led me to the materials room, and I had no idea what she intended to do.

Just as I was about to ask her, she began to undress, one garment at a time. I was too stunned to stop her, and my gaze was drawn to the array of scars, old and new, and the red marks across her chest.

I recalled the rumors at school and the man who should never have been in her bedroom, shirtless.

My heart ached for her–the girl whose eyes once sparkled with the promise of the world- now struggling in unseen, darkened depths.

Her distance suddenly made sense.

I knew it took immense courage for her to reveal everything. I struggled to remain calm as I draped her coat over her shoulders. I waited by the door while she got ready, watching her leave.

I remembered my own naive insistence that she focus on her studies, never questioning why she was growing thinner. I wanted to help her escape her family’s constraints, but would she still want to be with me?

I wasn’t sure.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

I kept a close watch on her, noticing her grades improving steadily. I followed her every day, seeing her safely home.

I knew she had applied to the university we had talked about, and with her abilities, she would surely be accepted. But should I choose that school too?

Was she ready to see me?