They Called Me Heartless, So Reborn, I Watched Them Self Destruct Chapter 08

They Called Me Heartless, So Reborn, I Watched Them Self Destruct Chapter 08

Lily asked to end things in the spring.

She didn’t talk about repaying him anymore.

She didn’t say she was sorry.

Instead, she sent Ethan a long message.

Ethan took a screenshot and posted it in the family group chat, as if he wanted everyone else to judge her for

him.

Lily had written:

[Ethan, thank you for saving my life. Without you, I might not even be here today.

But I’ve realized that what I feel for you is more dependence and guilt than the kind of love that can build a

marriage.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life repaying you for saving my life. That wouldn’t be fair to you, and it

wouldn’t be fair to me either.]

My mom completely lost it in the family chat.

[How could she say something like that?]

My dad stayed silent for a long time before finally typing:

[The Hayes family needs to answer for this.]

Ethan didn’t say a word in the group chat.

That night, he got drunk and called me.

I didn’t answer.

He called again.

By the sixth call, I finally picked up.

It was noisy on his end, like he was standing somewhere outside.

“Claire.”

His voice was slurred and hoarse.

“Did you know all along?”

“Know what?”

“That she would never choose me.”

I stood by the window, watching headlights slide along the street below one after another.

“I’m not psychic.”

He laughed.

It was an ugly, broken sound.

“If you’d stopped me that day, like you used to, none of this would’ve happened.”

My fingers went cold around my phone.

He was finally beginning to understand.

Maybe everything he’d once cursed me for had actually been another way out.

I asked, “If I had stopped you, would you have thanked me?”

There was silence on the other end.

I answered for him.

“No. You wouldn’t have.”

In my previous life, he’d already given me the answer,

I had tried to stop him from donating his kidney to Lily.

He hated me for it.

This time, I didn’t stop him.

And he still hated me.

What Ethan had always needed wasn’t a sister.

He needed someone to dump all his pain on.

“Why couldn’t you have tried a little harder?”

I suddenly laughed.

Tears came with it.

Not because I felt sorry for him.

I was crying for the version of inyself from my previous life, the girl who had tried so desperately to hold

This family together.

“I did try, Ethan.”

My voice was quiet.

“I tried for years. You all hated me for it. When I was sick, I begged you to answer one phone call. Not one of

you did.”

His breathing stopped for a beat.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

I wiped away my tears.

“Don’t drink anymore. You only have one kidney, and your blood pressure isn’t good.”

There was a long silence.

“You still care about me?”

“This is a basic health warning, not a family service.”

I hung up.

The next morning, my mom showed up at my apartment.

She hadn’t called ahead.

I had been working on a medical malpractice case analysis when she knocked.

I opened the door.

The first thing out of her mouth was:

“Ethan ended up like this, and you’re satisfied?”

I leaned against the doorframe.

“You don’t need to come in. Say what you came to say here.”

She looked past me into my apartment.

It was tiny, barely more than a studio.

Books were piled across the desk, and a schedule was taped to the wall.

Something flickered across her face.

But it was gone almost immediately.

“Ethan drinks every day haw, His leg is still bad, and he doesn’t have a job. You’re his sister. You can’t be

this heartless.”

I let out a cold laugh.

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

Her voice rose.

“You knew how risky that kidney donation was. You should have stopped Ethan!”

I looked at her.

In my previous life, in that tiny rental apartment, I’d been burning up with a 104-degree fever when I called

her.

She answered.

I’d barely managed to say, “Mom,” before she snapped:

[Stop pretending you’re helpless. Ethan is getting an award today. Don’t bring bad luck to the family.]

That had been the last time she ever answered one of my calls.

Until the day I died, I had kept wondering if maybe I really had been the one who was wrong.

Now, standing in front of her, I finally had my answer.

It had never been me.

They had simply always needed me to be the one at fault.

I pulled out my phone and played a recording.

My mom’s own voice echoed through the hallway.

[As long as it saves Lily, we support it.]

The color drained from her face.

Then I opened the photos.

The day Ethan underwent the donation surgery, all four signatures were clearly visible on the supplemental consent forms.

David Miller.

Jennifer Miller.

Ethan Miller.

Lily Hayes.

I looked at her.

“Mom, the last time, you blamed me for trying to stop Ethan. You blamed me for refusing to let him donate

his kidney to Lily. This time, you’re blaming me for not stopping him.”

I held her gaze.

“You’re not looking for the truth. You just need someone to take the blame.”

Her lips trembled.

“How can you talk to your mother like that?”

“Then how do you want me to talk to you?”

I looked at her calmly.

“Should I apologize? Should I take responsibility? Should I promise to support Ethan for the rest of his life?”

Her eyes shifted away.

I understood.

She really had expected that.

I smiled.

“Don’t count on it.”

Then I told her, slowly and clearly:

i

“Ethan chose to make that sacrifice with his own body. The life he has left is his to live too.”