Chapter 1

During our winter hiking trip in the Aspen mountains, my foster brother, Julian, deliberately pushed me, breaking my leg.

But my parents left me behind in the freezing snow, running a high fever and unable to walk, just to rush Julian to the hospital for his minor scratches.

I held onto my dad’s coat, sobbing and begging them to take me with them.

But my mom coldly slapped my hand away.

"Julian is bleeding so much, and all you care about is competing for our attention?"

"How did I give birth to such a malicious son? Stay here by yourself and think about what you’ve done!"

They walked away with Julian, never once looking back at me.

I dragged my broken left leg, desperately trying to crawl after them, only to collapse helplessly into the freezing, deep snow.

Days later, when Julian was discharged from the hospital, they finally remembered me.

They had no idea that on the very day they left, an avalanche had already buried me deep beneath the snow.

I died. I died because the avalanche hit, and with a broken leg, I couldn't run.

After my death, my soul somehow ended up floating right next to my dad.

He was standing anxiously in the hospital room, looking at Julian on the bed with eyes full of distress.

"Julian, the doctor said it's a good thing we got you here in time. You’re going to be completely fine."

"Just rest now. We’ll go home once you’re fully recovered."

Then, he turned to look at the snow-capped mountains outside the window, his eyes burning with anger.

"If it weren't for Leo dragging us on this stupid trip, you wouldn't have gotten hurt and ended up in a hospital bed!"

"When he gets back, I’ll make him get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness!"

My mom was hovering over the monitors, terrified that Julian's vitals might drop even a little.

Her eyes were red from crying.

"That brat knew Julian has a weak heart, yet he insisted on hiking in the snow."

"And here I thought Leo was finally trying to be a good brother. It was a setup all along!"

Watching this, my ghost felt a sharp, stabbing pain where my heart used to be.

Mom, that’s not true. This trip was Julian's idea. You both agreed to it!

I had been sickly since I was a kid. I hated the cold and hated climbing.

But Julian said he wanted to take a family photo in the mountains. So you forced me to come, calling me dramatic when I resisted.

Julian was the son of my dad's late army buddy. Dad felt so guilty about his friend’s death that he treated Julian better than his own flesh and blood.

Ever since we were kids, I had to give up everything for Julian. Anything my parents bought for me, Julian would take.

If I fought back, my parents would scream at me for being selfish and not caring for Julian.

Over time, I became a people-pleaser. I stopped fighting back, hoping that if I was good enough, my parents would love me again.

This trip was supposed to be different. Julian had deliberately stepped on and shattered the vintage pocket watch Grandma Ruth left me before she died.

It was the only thing I had left of her.

I was so heartbroken that my parents finally felt a shred of guilt. They promised to take me to the beach.

The beach—a place they had promised to take me a thousand times but never did.

But at the last minute, Julian said he wanted to see the snow. So they changed the destination instantly.

They even dragged me along just because Julian said it wouldn't feel like a family without me.

And now, somehow, it was all my fault.

Up on the mountain, I had begged my parents to turn back because my leg was throbbing. But they only saw the tiny scratch on Julian's ankle.

My mom had screamed at me, "Leo, Julian is bleeding! Why do you always have to make everything about yourself?"

Julian had feigned tears, whispering, "It doesn't hurt, Mom. Leo didn't mean to push me."

My parents looked at the tiny drop of blood on Julian's leg, then glared at me like I was a monster.

"Leo, did you plan this whole thing?"

"How did we raise such a wicked child?"

With that, my dad picked Julian up and they hurried down the mountain.

I cried, begging them not to leave me. But they said I was acting to cover up my "crime."

No matter how much I pleaded, they wouldn't listen. They told me to walk down by myself as a punishment.

After they left, I dragged my broken leg through the snow, my body shivering from a raging fever, trying to crawl my way down.

But just as I was close to the exit, the mountain roared. An avalanche came down.

I remember the sheer despair. The heavy snow crushed my bones, and the freezing cold sucked the last bit of warmth from my body.

In my final moments, I stared in the direction my parents had gone.

If they find out I died here, will they be even a little sad?

Will they give me a fraction of the love they gave Julian, once I'm gone?