The Kidney That Killed Me
Agatha Christie · Completed · 6.1k Words
Introduction
A few months ago, my sister was hospitalized with kidney failure. The doctor said she needed a transplant. My family's first thought was me—the backup daughter they'd kept around all these years.
When my husband Allen took my hand with tears in his eyes and said, "Only you can save her," I agreed without hesitation.
When the doctor explained the surgical risks and potential complications, I smiled and nodded my understanding.
My parents said I'd finally learned what sisterly love meant.
Even Allen, who'd always been cold to me, held my hand gently and said, "The surgery's safe. You're so healthy, nothing will go wrong. When you recover, I'll take you to Hawaii."
But they don't know that no matter how the surgery goes, I won't be around to celebrate.
Because I just got my own test results—I have terminal brain cancer. I'm going to die anyway.
Chapter 1
Celeste's POV
For twenty-nine years, I had lived like a shadow. My sister stole my parents' love, stole my husband's affection, stole everything from me.
And today, when she needed my kidney to survive, I could finally be free.
"Alright. I agree to donate my kidney to Vivienne."
My words stunned everyone. Allen froze mid-motion, my parents' eyes widened, and even my perpetually weak sister Vivienne looked at me in surprise.
Just yesterday, when I received the terminal brain cancer diagnosis from the doctor, I knew none of this mattered anymore. With only three to four months left to live, it didn't matter where I died.
"You... you really agreed?" Allen stammered.
I smiled. "Yes. The doctor said we're a 99% match, didn't he?"
The dining room erupted in celebration.
"Celeste! My good daughter! You've finally grown up!" Mom said excitedly.
"Wonderful! Vivienne is saved!" Dad slammed the table in excitement.
Allen walked over to me. "Celeste, you finally made the right decision."
"I knew our Celeste was the kindest. After all, blood is thicker than water—you wouldn't let your sister die," Mom said.
Only Vivienne's eyes flashed with triumph before she resumed her weak demeanor. "Sister... thank you... I know this isn't easy for you..."
Looking at her, bitterness welled up in my heart. Nineteen years. Ever since that shopping mall incident, I'd carried the blame for "causing my sister to get lost."
That day, because I wouldn't buy Vivienne the toy she wanted, she deliberately hid from us. Security found her dehydrated and unconscious in an abandoned underground parking garage. Since then, Vivienne's health had been fragile, and I became the family scapegoat.
Over the years, I had to give her everything she wanted. Even Allen's gentle gaze, which had initially been mine, eventually transferred entirely to her.
I had silently endured it all, until now—when she needed my kidney.
Three days ago, Allen had once again pushed divorce papers in front of me.
"Celeste, you can see Vivienne's condition. The doctor said her kidney function is deteriorating rapidly. If we don't do the transplant soon, she'll really die. You're sisters—this is your responsibility. If you refuse, I won't tolerate your selfishness anymore."
I didn't know about my cancer then. Though my body was getting weaker, I still refused.
"This surgery carries significant risks for me. I need to think about it."
The living room atmosphere instantly froze.
"Think about WHAT? That's your sister! Your own sister!" Mom's face went pale.
"At the shopping mall years ago, if you had watched Vivienne properly, her health wouldn't be this poor," Dad accused. "Now she's dying, and you're still trying to shirk responsibility?"
"Remember Vivienne's sixteenth birthday? I still remember you putting salt in her cake," Mom said with disappointment. "After all these years, you still haven't gotten over your jealousy of your sister."
Allen interrupted coldly, "Celeste, you really disappoint me. Every time Vivienne gets sick, you never genuinely care. I thought marriage would change you, but you're still so cold."
"If you don't save Vivienne," Dad's voice was stern, "we'll act like we never had a daughter like you. The doors of this house will never open for you again."
Recalling these harsh accusations now, I felt nothing. Before, I would cry, feel wronged, feel pain. But now, none of it mattered. I just wanted everything to end quickly.
Allen excitedly ran off to arrange the surgery while my parents surrounded Vivienne, crying and laughing.
"I told you Celeste wouldn't really let her die. She's just stubborn, but deep down she loves you," Mom said, stroking Vivienne's hair.
"Our little baby will get better soon," Dad said adoringly.
I sat quietly aside and pulled out the diagnosis report from my bag.
Grade IV glioblastoma, metastasized, estimated survival 3-4 months.
Black and white, clear and brutal.
When Allen returned, he saw me putting something away.
"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.
"Nothing important," I replied flatly.
"The doctor said we can schedule surgery for next week. Celeste, you did well this time. After the surgery, we'll go to Hawaii for our honeymoon—you've always wanted to go there," Allen said excitedly.
I looked at him quietly, then shook my head. "No need, Allen. I don't think I'll be able to make it."
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