ManyWriters

On his deathbed, Dad warned my sister and me.
Whoever betrays you, never choose forgiveness.
Always leave them behind.
So when my sister abandoned me for the ninth time to comfort our stepdad's depressed son, I didn't cry or make a fuss. I simply ordered 999 gallons of gasoline online.
My childhood sweetheart saw it and mockingly asked, "Planning to set yourself on fire to join your dead dad?"
My sister, feeling guilty, tried to explain: "After learning his dad and our mom had an affair, Nolan became depressed. His emotions are unstable. You need to be understanding."
My childhood sweetheart chimed in: "I don't know why you insist on dragging Nolan into the mess of the older generation. You're so petty."
"Besides, I've told you that once Nolan's depression gets better, I'll fulfill our childhood promise and marry you."
This time, I didn't argue with them.
They had no idea I had scheduled a fake death service.
I'm looking forward to the reactions of those present at Nolan's birthday party next week after my appearance as a charred corpse.

After their Betrayal, I Faked My Own Death

Five years apart, and yet my sister had changed so drastically.


Her once youthful, fair complexion now appeared sallow and lackluster. Her lips were chapped, her appearance gaunt. Her overworked hands were covered in calluses. But it was her eyes that struck me the most - weary and world-worn, as if they had endured every torment life could offer.


Back when we lived at home together, I could never bear to see her do any heavy lifting.


In the dead of winter, when Mom would nag her to go down to the river to wash Nolan's shoes, or when the pipes froze and she had to haul water bucket by bucket, I'd always step in if I caught her. I'd rather take on the hardship myself than see her struggle even a little more.


Before I could even open my mouth, a man pushing fifty emerged from the dilapidated storefront.


Chapter 8