Chapter 5
I was born premature–just under four pounds.
Before I even made it to my first month, I nearly died in an incubator.
My parents were devastated.
From the moment I was born, they poured all their love and attention into me–and only me.
They started planning my birthday parties weeks in advance every year.
No matter how busy they were, no matter how far away–whether buried in work or overseas–they never missed a single school event, a holiday, or milestone.
They hired a full–time nanny to drive me to school, pick me up, cook my meals, and care for me day and night.
If I begged to skip school for a trip to the amusement park, they let me go–and hired the gentlest tutor afterward to help me catch up.
For years, I wore their love like a badge of honor.
Until I turned seven. That year, on my brother Charley’s birthday, I stopped by after school to buy him a present.
When I got home, I found him alone in his room, eating a tiny cake barely the size of his palm.
Our parents were away on a business trip. The nanny had made dinner, then left.
And in that moment, I realized–for years, the only people in this house who remembered Charley’s birthday were me… and
him.
That night, I cried for him, angry and upset on his behalf.
He panicked and tossed the cake aside, then hugged me tightly and said, “It’s okay. Really. As long as you are healthy, that’s all that matters–to me, and to Mom and Dad.”
And he meant it.
As far back as I could remember, relatives used to joke and tell the same story over and over.
After I was born and nearly died in that incubator, it was Charley who cried the hardest.
That was why our parents treasured me so much–because I made it through.
And so did Charley.
But he was a child, too. He had birthdays, too.
He wasn’t born to be forgotten. He wasn’t born just to revolve around me.
Still, year after year, our parents let his birthday pass without a word.
1/4
11:18 Tue, Aug 12
99%
0
X
+20
Chapter 5
Even on his eighteenth.
That morning, they sent him off to a cram school like it was any other day–then packed their bags and left for another trip.
It happened to be my school holiday. Mom didn’t want to leave me alone, so she packed my suitcase too, planning to bring me along.
I exploded.
“I’m not going! I hate you both! I never want to go anywhere with you again!”
Mom’s eyes turned red with tears.
Dad, helpless, asked the nanny to stay behind with me while he and Mom left as planned.
I stayed home alone and decided to throw Charley a proper coming–of–age celebration.
I used my allowance to reserve a party hall at a hotel.
Then I created a group chat and invited all of his–and my–friends and classmates.
I thought, Even if Mom and Dad don’t care about my brother… I do.
That evening, I sent out a message in the group. Just as I was about to call Charley to come to the hotel for his surprise….
The ground started to shake beneath me.
Then the chandelier came crashing down from the ceiling–And hit me square on the head.
Everything went red and blurry. After that, my memory turns hazy.
I collapsed, panic gripping me as I tried to crawl away–But I couldn’t move.
And then, out of nowhere, my parents were there.
Maybe they came from the hallway. Maybe they climbed in through the window.
Under the collapsing roof, they wrapped themselves around me, shielding me with their bodies.
The nanny had already run off.
Charley, stuck in the same earthquake at his cram school, was trapped under the rubble.
I lay there, surrounded by darkness. Drowsiness dragged at me, thick and heavy.
And through it, I heard my parents‘ voices–desperate, worn out, but constant. “Erma, stay with us. Don’t fall asleep…
“The year your brother turned three, he begged us to take him out.
“I slipped and fell that day… after a week of trying to keep you, you still came early…
“We never forgot his birthday.
2/4
Aug
99%
OX
+20
Chapter 5
“He just felt guilty. Said celebrating it made him feel worse…
“Erma… please, don’t sleep…”
I didn’t remember what time they pulled me out.
Their voices were still ringing in my ears. But the only things the rescue team recovered were their bodies.
I refused to believe it. I asked one of the rescuers, “But… I just heard them. They were still talking to me.”
He told me, “It was a recording.”
Liar.
They’d left first.
They recorded their voices–begging me not to fall asleep.
Because I’d said I hated them. And it broke them.
They hadn’t gone on that business trip after all.
When the earthquake hit, they turned around and came back to find me.
Hungry. Exhausted. Dehydrated. They didn’t survive the night.
After that, my whole life collapsed.
No one ever brought up the surprise birthday party I’d planned for Charley again.
He was rescued from the rubble of the cram school.
And the brother who had always been the gentlest with me–Looked at me for the first time with rage and grief and asked, “Weren’t they supposed to take you with them?
“Why did you stay behind? Why don’t you ever listen? Was it because you threw a tantrum about wanting to go to the amusement park again?”
I looked at his face–twisted with anguish, barely holding together.
And in that moment, I realized–Some truths were better left unspoken.
If someone had to carry the guilt for our parents‘ deaths, Let it be me.
Charley didn’t need to know he’d had a part in it.
In the end, his eyes burned red.
And for the first time in my life, he shouted at me, “Erma, you’re absolutely disgusting!”
Even when a mutual friend eventually told him–against my wishes–That I had stayed behind that day to plan a surprise party for him… He didn’t believe it. He just sneered and said, “Erma, is this how you spin it? You caused their deaths, and now you want to pretend it wasn’t your fault?”
3
