Rich Sister Paid a Dollar for My Funeral

"Look, you'd better hurry. You know how fast plots go these days," the cemetery plot salesman said over the phone, sighing.

His meaning was obvious—until he saw the money, nothing was official.

I understood why he was pushing me.

Over the past year, I'd looked at cemetery plots several times but could never bring myself to reserve one.

They were simply too expensive. Between my medication and treatments, I had barely anything left.

So every once in a while, I'd go back to see if any cheaper plots had opened up for me to snatch.

Every time the salesman asked which one I wanted, I could only mumble awkwardly, "Never mind. I'll bring my family next time."

But this time, my voice was steady. "Don't worry. I'm actually buying it."

After hanging up, I switched my screen back to the RainDrop Fund page.

In the sea of comments wishing me a speedy recovery, one stood out. It was from my sister, Zoey Hudson.

"Lung cancer, huh? Let me know when you're really dead. I'll throw a party."

I read it over and over, still unable to believe those words had come from my own sister.

Yet, thanks to the dollar she'd donated, my balance had finally reached an even 10,000 dollars, making it eligible for withdrawal.

I pressed my lips together bitterly and was just about to tap the withdrawal button when a new donation and comment suddenly popped up.

It was from Andrew Lane, the needy student Zoey had sponsored.

He'd donated one cent and left a comment.

"Chase, come home. As long as you apologize properly, Zoey will forgive you. Don't fake something like this again."

My fingers tightened around my phone. But after a moment, I said nothing and submitted the withdrawal.

Peanut, the stray cat I'd taken in, seemed to sense something was off with me and kept rubbing against my feet.

I crouched down to pat his head, then poured the last of the cat food into his bowl, filling it to the brim. He immediately limped over and started eating.

He was a disabled cat with a badly broken leg.

As he ate, he kept glancing back at me.

When I met those pleading eyes, my own stung with tears. I felt like I was right back on the night Zoey kicked me out of the house. I could still hear her disgusted voice, cold enough to cut to the bone.

"If you won't admit you were wrong, then get out. I don't want you anymore!"