Chapter 3

Dad slammed his cutlery on the dining table and yelled, "Ash Nash! How can you be so spoiled and unreasonable?"

He rose to his feet, his face livid. "Do you not know how bad Eli's health is? Do you not know that Eli…"

He trailed off, unable to finish what he intended to say.

I had no idea what they were talking about back then. I only knew that Eli always had a pale complexion, that he would occasionally cough, and that Mom and Dad had always looked at him with those sorrowful eyes of theirs. I didn't understand what it all meant back then.

"Why does everything belong to Eli?" I jumped off my chair and pointed at Eli, who was sitting across from me, sobbing while yelling, "You should just drop dead and give me back what's mine!"

Eli tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Mom stood up abruptly and slapped me hard across the face.

That was the very first time I had been struck so hard.

Eli tried to throw himself forward to shield me, but Mom held him back with a firm grip, saying, "He needs to learn his lesson! He needs to understand what things he can and cannot say!"

I overheard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen the following day after the incident.

Mom said through her tears, "He only has nine years left…"

"I know," Dad said hoarsely."

"J-Just nine years left…"

It was only then that I understood that Eli was really going to die. It turned out that the numbers hovering above his head, unseen by anyone else, were the countdown to his lifespan.

In the living room, Mom's and Dad's eyes were bloodshot as they carefully escorted Eli back to his bedroom.

I looked on, suddenly feeling a sharp pang of sorrow.

"H-How about we let Ash out?" Dad asked softly.

Mom remained silent for a long time before replying, "He should bear it a bit longer."

She sounded extremely weary, as if she had used up all her energy. "He should stay in there until Eli gets to celebrate his birthday properly—for the very last time."

I watched as Mom raised her hand to wipe away her tears.

She sounded like she was talking herself into it, saying, "I'm sure Ash will understand our intentions. We'll make it up to him once Eli is no longer around…"

Dad remained silent. He just walked into the kitchen, took a small piece of bread from the cabinet, and walked toward the storage room. He then whispered toward the door, "I've brought you some bread, Ash. You should have something to eat so you don't starve yourself."

I drifted in front of him and crouched down to look at him. I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, the wrinkles around them significantly deeper than last year, and the hair at his temples had already turned white. He was only 40 years old this year, but he looked like he was 50 years old.

"I'm right here. I'm already dead, Dad. Why don't you head in there and check on me, Dad?"

"Ash?" Dad called out again.

I reached out to touch his face, but my hand passed right through his body.

"That kid is still throwing a tantrum." Dad sighed and stood up in disappointment. He then pushed the bread a bit further into the crack of the door and said, "You should just stay put and stop acting out. I'll definitely make it up to you once Eli is no longer around…"

I didn't wait for him to discover me in the storage room. I looked at his retreating figure and said softly, "It won't be necessary, Dad. You don't need to make it up to me anymore."

I silently told myself that they would never have the chance to do that anymore.

Then, after Dad walked away, the hallway returned to complete silence again.

It was then that a faint noise came from the living room. Mom walked out of Eli's bedroom, gently closed the door, and stood in the hallway in a daze.

She stared at the storage room door, her lips pressed tightly together as if she were wrestling with herself. She eventually walked over and crouched down where Dad had just been.

She then said softly, "I hope you won't blame me for this, Ash. I know you've suffered a lot all these years."