The Unwilling Donor Reborn

Chapter 4 – The Fall and the End

The room went silent.

Music stopped. Laughter died. All eyes turned to the center table.

Martha's hand was clamped around Anna's wrist. Patrick stared at her.

“Martha?" Anna gasped. “You're hurting me."

Martha let go at once. Her heart hammered. “You were about to kiss my fiancé," she said, voice shaking. “In front of everyone."

Color drained from Anna's face. She grabbed her chair. “I—I wasn't," she stammered. “I was just happy. I was thanking him. I didn't mean—"

“She was being friendly," Patrick cut in, stepping to Anna's side. “You're overreacting."

“Overreacting?" Martha repeated. “She had her arms around you and her face up in yours. Was I supposed to clap?"

A murmur moved through the guests.

Melissa stared at Martha. “Martha," she snapped, “what are you doing?"

“What am I doing?" Martha said. “What is she doing?"

She pointed at Anna.

“I'm sorry," Anna said quickly, tears in her eyes. “I didn't mean to upset you. Patrick helped so much with the surgery. I got carried away. I wasn't thinking like that, I swear."

Patrick squeezed her shoulder. “You don't need to apologize," he said gently. “Tonight is your night. Martha is just too sensitive."

Martha stared at him. “Sensitive?" she repeated. “Any woman would react if her sister tried to kiss her fiancé."

Voices rose in low whispers.

Melissa stepped forward. “Anna was excited," she said coldly. “Your fiancé was comforting her. You're the one who rushed over and grabbed her like a lunatic."

A bitter laugh escaped Martha. “So I'm the crazy one," she said. “Not the one clinging to my fiancé."

“She just came out of major surgery," Melissa snapped. “She's weak. Her emotions are unstable. Can you not show a little patience?"

“I gave her a kidney," Martha said. “Is that not patience?"

Gasps went around the room.

Melissa's eyes flashed. “And she thanked you," she said. “We all did. That doesn't give you the right to shame her in public."

“I'm the one ashamed," Martha said. “I dragged myself here when I can barely stand. No one asked how I am. And the first thing I see is my sister in my fiancé's arms while everyone cheers."

Anna swayed. One hand went to her chest.

“I'm sorry," she whispered. “Please don't be angry. I really didn't mean—"

“See?" Melissa cut in. “She just wanted to thank him and you attacked her. You've always been like this. Jealous. You finally saved her life and still can't stand to see her happy."

“I'm not jealous," Martha said. “I'm tired of being treated like nothing."

Tears spilled down Anna's cheeks. “Please stop," she said. “Don't fight because of me. I'll go home if you want. I'm sorry, it's my fault—"

Patrick turned on Martha. “Enough," he said. “What more do you want? She apologized. She's sick. You, of all people, should understand."

“I only matter when you need an organ," Martha shot back. “The rest of the time I disappear."

A cousin muttered, “She's making this about herself."

“On Anna's night, too," another friend whispered.

Martha heard every word.

Melissa stepped close. “I warned you," she said. “I told you not to ruin tonight."

“I didn't ruin anything," Martha said. “I stopped my sister from—"

The slap landed before she finished.

Melissa's hand struck her cheek with a sharp c***k. Martha's head snapped to the side. A collective gasp swept the room, sharper than the music that had cut off.

Her cheek burned. She tasted blood.

“You ungrateful girl," Melissa hissed. “If I had known you'd turn out like this, I would never have taken you in. You help once and now you think you can throw it in our faces whenever you like."

Slowly, Martha turned back. “I gave up a kidney," she said hoarsely. “Not a favor."

Melissa pointed toward the door. “Get out," she said. “Right now. From today on, you are not my daughter. I don't have a daughter like you."

The words cut through the air.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then the whispers started again.

“She really said that?"

“How can a mother—"

Anna had gone even paler. She clutched her chest and swayed.

“Mom," she breathed. “Don't… say that… It's not… Martha's…"

Her knees buckled.

“Anna!" Melissa cried, grabbing her. “Anna, what's wrong?"

Anna's breaths came fast and shallow.

“My chest… it hurts…" she gasped. “I feel… dizzy…"

She sagged against Melissa.

Patrick caught her other arm. “Anna, hey," he said. “Look at me. Stay awake."

Her eyes rolled back for a moment.

“Call an ambulance!" Melissa screamed. “Hurry!"

Chairs scraped. Phones appeared. Someone shouted for the staff.

Martha stood where she was, hands shaking. Her cheek stung. Her side ached.

“See what you've done?" Melissa threw at her. “Are you satisfied now? You pushed her to this!"

“I didn't—" Martha began.

“Enough!" Melissa shouted. “You're bad luck! Stay away from her!"

A friend stepped toward Martha. “How could you yell at her like that when she's barely recovered?" he demanded. “You call yourself her sister?"

Others joined in.

“You're so cold."

“You only care about yourself."

“She just wanted a hug—"

The accusations pelted her from all sides. The room seemed to tilt.

Martha's ears buzzed. The lights blurred.

She took a step back.

Her heel caught on something behind her. She didn't see what.

The world tipped out from under her.

Pain exploded in her side as she fell. The ceiling spun. People shouted.

Gasps burst from the tables around her. Chairs clattered as guests surged to their feet.

“Martha!"

“God, look at her—"

“She's bleeding—"

Two of her colleagues from the station shoved through the knot of relatives and dropped to their knees beside her.

“Martha, hey," one of them said, voice high with panic. “Can you hear me? You're white as paper."

Her vision wobbled. Their faces blurred together.

“Her lips are blue," the other whispered. “This isn't just a faint. Something's really wrong."

Across the table, Melissa only clicked her tongue.

“Honestly," she said sharply, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Every time Anna is in the spotlight, she does this. Collapsing, making a scene… She's always been like this since she was little, pretending to be sick just so we'll look at her instead of Anna."

“Mom—" one of the aunts began uncertainly.

“She's not made of glass," Melissa snapped. “She's been milking that surgery from the moment she signed the forms. Don't fuss over her. Help Anna. She'll get up when she realizes no one is watching her little performance."

Martha's fingers twitched weakly against the floor.

So that's what you think of me, she thought, dazed. A performance. Even now.

Her mother's voice was the last clear thing that reached her.

You're always like this. Always fighting Anna, always trying to steal the family's attention.

The words scraped down her spine.

The impact had knocked the breath from her. For a second, she couldn't draw air.

“…Martha?"

Patrick's face appeared above her, upside down and blurred. “Martha, can you hear me?"

She tried to answer. Nothing came out.

Voices overlapped.

“Call the ambulance!"

“She fell—look at her side—"

Patrick's hands hovered near her shoulders. “Don't move," he said, voice shaking. “Martha, stay still. Stay with me, okay?"

The lights hurt her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy.

Her side pulsed with her heartbeat. Something warm spread under her back.

“Doctor!" Patrick shouted. “Anyone! She just had surgery!"

A staff member ran out. Another guest knelt and pressed fingers to Martha's wrist.

“Her pulse is weak," the guest said. “We need help now."

Somewhere, a siren wailed. Or maybe it was only in her head.

“Martha," Patrick said again, closer. “Look at me. Don't close your eyes."

Once, that voice had steadied her. Now it floated far away.

Her thoughts slipped. She heard Melissa crying Anna's name, not hers.

The edges of her vision darkened. The ceiling lights blurred into soft circles.

New footsteps approached. A calm male voice cut through the noise.

“What happened?" he asked.

“She donated a kidney last week," Patrick said quickly. “She fell. Please, you have to save her."

Hands checked her neck, her wrist, her pupils.

“Blood pressure's very low."

“Recent donor."

“Possible internal bleeding."

“We need to move her."

They lifted her onto something hard. The world rocked as they carried her. The ceiling slid past.

Patrick's voice followed. “Do something!" he shouted, breaking. “Just save her!"

“We're trying," another voice said. “But she needed rest. Activity like this so soon after surgery—"

“Just fix it!" Patrick shouted.

The stretcher jolted through a doorway. Harsh lights flashed overhead. Someone slid an oxygen mask over her face. A needle bit into her arm. Monitors began to beep.

“Stay with us," a nurse ordered. “Martha, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand."

Her fingers wouldn't obey.

Sounds broke apart. Beeping. Footsteps. Voices.

Then one sentence cut through.

“I'm sorry," the doctor said to Patrick. “Her condition is extremely unstable. There are serious complications from the surgery. We're doing everything we can, but… there may be nothing more we can do."

Patrick made a broken sound. “No," he said. “Keep going. She can't—"

His voice faded.

The pain in her side dulled. The light above her softened.

Patrick's voice broke somewhere above her again. Even through the growing haze, she could hear him calling for the doctors over and over, hoarse and desperate, as if sheer panic could drag her back.

Once, that desperation would have been enough to anchor her. She would have clawed her way back to him just because he asked.

Now it only made her tired.

So this is what it takes for you to say my name, she thought dimly. I have to be dying on the floor. When I was dragging myself down the corridor for a glass of water, you were laughing in Anna's room. When I was shaking in that hospital bed, you told me not to exaggerate.

Bitterness slid through her like ice. She saw, in a rush, all the years she had bent herself around other people's needs—Melissa's temper, Anna's tears, Patrick's expectations. Every choice she'd made had led her here, bleeding out in a dress he'd picked, at a party thrown for someone else.

My whole life, she realised, I've been paying a debt I never owed.

The edges of her vision darkened further. Somewhere inside the thickening dark, another image rose: the hospital corridor outside Anna's room, the consent forms in her hand, Melissa's threat, Patrick's disappointment.

If I had walked away then, she thought, everything would be different.

Helpless anger twisted into a single, silent plea.

Give me another chance.

Let me go back.