"Hey, delivery girl! Move it!"
I turned.
And saw my parents in the car.
They were dressed impeccably—expensive, polished, dripping with luxury.
In the backseat sat a bald little girl with a pale, sickly face.
Her eyes sparkled as she clutched a cake.
A cake that cost over four hundred dollars.
In that moment, the world inside the car and the world outside it felt like two different planets.
Without thinking, I stepped aside to let them pass.
The security guard's voice drifted to my ears, reverent and envious.
"Director Swanson and Director James are really something—wealthy and generous. I heard this is the nineteenth patient they've sponsored."
"Can you imagine how lucky their kids must be?"
Lucky to be their child?
I caught my reflection in the glass—gaunt, colorless, hollow.
A bitter smirk twisted my lips as I turned and walked away.
Thirty hours.
I scraped together fifty-five thousand dollars like my life depended on it.
Because it did.
The moment I handed over the payment at the hospital, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. My vision went black, and I nearly collapsed right there.