The stress was too much.
Every day felt heavier than the last. My stomach hurt constantly, and food no longer tasted good. Sleep became impossible; even when my eyes closed, my mind replayed every humiliation Angelica had thrown at me — the stolen projects, the lies to my friends, the way my crush avoided me. Every smile she faked toward our parents, every tear she shed to frame me, replayed endlessly.
I tried to be strong. I tried to tell myself I could handle it. But inside, I was crumbling.
Then it happened.
I fainted in the school hallway. Everything went black, and when I woke up, I was surrounded by white walls, the sterile smell of a hospital, and worried faces I had longed to see for comfort. My parents, my brother, my best friend Glenn — they all looked down at me, their faces pale with worry. Angelica stood in the corner, frowning, a mix of curiosity and annoyance on her face.
The doctor, a kind woman with tired eyes, knelt beside my bed. "Zheppy… your blood work shows something serious. You have cancer."
The word hit me like a fist. Cancer. Sixteen years old. Cancer. I wanted to scream, to shake everyone and make them understand. But my voice caught in my throat.
When I tried to tell my family, their faces hardened.
"Stop lying for attention," Angelica said sharply, her arms crossed. Her tone, dripping with disbelief, cut deeper than any knife.
My mom shook her head. "Zheppy, this is too much… maybe it's stress, dear."
Even my dad looked unsure, worry mixed with skepticism. "Are you sure you're not just exaggerating?"
It was as if the world had turned against me. Even the people I loved most didn't believe me. I wanted to cry, to scream, to collapse, but I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn't let them see me break.
But my body didn't wait for permission.
My hair began to fall in clumps. My skin became pale, almost translucent. Every step I took was a struggle. The room spun constantly. And each night, alone in my room, I wept quietly, too exhausted to fight.
Only Glenn noticed the truth.
He had followed me to the hospital one day after school, worried about my disappearing acts. When he saw my medical reports, his eyes filled with tears. "I… I can't believe no one else believed you," he whispered, holding my hand so tightly it hurt. "I'm so sorry… I should've trusted you from the start."
"I know," I whispered weakly, managing a small, shaky smile. "It's okay."
Danica came later, having overheard Glenn's words. She hugged me tightly, her tears soaking my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Zheppy… I should have known better."
Even with their support, it didn't fix the truth: my body was tired. Too tired to fight. Too tired to hope.
One night, I summoned every ounce of strength I had to call my family into my room. My parents, my brother, and even Angelica reluctantly entered.
"I… I need you to listen," I whispered, my voice fragile. "I'm sick. Not lying. Not pretending. I… I have cancer."
Angelica stepped back, folding her arms. There was hesitation in her eyes, but I could feel her doubt.
My parents saw me clearly now. The lines in their faces deepened as they noticed how thin, pale, and fragile I had become. Tears streamed down my mom's face. My dad's hands shook as he reached to hold mine. My brother's usual protectiveness turned into frantic worry.
Angelica's face turned pale. "I… I didn't know," she whispered.
I looked at her. "You didn't want a sister. You wanted revenge."
Tears fell freely from her eyes, hot and trembling. For the first time, she looked guilty, truly guilty. "I… I was angry," she admitted. "I thought you stole my life. I… I wanted what I should've had."
"I didn't," I whispered. "We were both victims."
For a moment, it seemed she might understand. For a moment, I felt like we could be sisters again.
But life has a cruel way of testing hearts.
Angelica's guilt turned into desperation. "I… I can fix this! I can make them see! I can help you!"
Her sudden change confused me. Was it real? Or just another act? I wanted to believe her, but I couldn't risk trusting her again.
Days passed, and my condition worsened. I could barely walk. I spent most of my time in bed, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitor. Glenn refused to leave my side. Danica visited every day. My parents finally understood and stayed near me constantly. But Angelica… she lingered in the shadows, occasionally offering help, sometimes smirking subtly. I didn't know which version of her I could believe.
Then came the worst night.
The pain became unbearable. My body shivered with fever. My chest burned. Every breath felt like a battle. I held Glenn's hand tightly, whispering, "I don't know if I can… fight anymore."
He shook his head fiercely, tears falling. "No! You can! You will! I'll stay here, I won't leave you!"
I smiled weakly, squeezing his hand. "Thank you… for not leaving me."
Angelica sat silently in the corner. For a brief moment, her eyes softened. "I… I wish I had been better," she said quietly. But then, almost instantly, her expression hardened again. The bitterness lingered, a shadow in the room.
As I lay there, I realized something. Life was cruel, unfair. But even in this pain, even in the betrayal and lies, I had love. Glenn's unwavering support. Danica's late but sincere apology. My family finally seeing me clearly.
I took a shaky breath. "I forgive you, Angelica… but you have to live better. Not for me… for yourself."
She lowered her eyes. "I… I will. I promise."
I closed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion overtaking me. My body was failing, but my heart… my heart was full. Full of love, forgiveness, and hope that someday, maybe, we could be sisters again.
Because even if the sister who stole my life never fully changed, I had chosen to rise above hatred.
Even as the darkness crept in, I felt… peace.