No Mercy This Time

1

My nephew was diagnosed with leukemia, and my daughter was the only one in the family who could save him.

To save the only male heir, the only one to carry on their precious family name, my in-laws forced my frail daughter to donate her bone marrow.

In the end, my brother-in-law's son lived.

My daughter died on the operating table.

Lost in a haze of grief, I clutched her cold, lifeless body and threw myself from the 18th floor.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three days before my nephew’s diagnosis was even known.

…

In my first life, when my nephew, Ted, was diagnosed with leukemia, my daughter, Amy, was the only match.

But Amy had been sickly since birth. The doctors explicitly advised against the donation.

To protect the family’s “golden boy,” they all insisted.

They drugged me, knocked me unconscious, and dragged my little girl to the operating room.

When I came to, the whole family was celebrating. Ted’s transplant was a success.

And my Amy… my Amy was lying in the room next door, her small body still and cold.

My father- and mother-in-law looked at me with faces full of false sympathy.

“Don’t blame us, Lily,” my mother-in-law had said, her voice cloying. “If it had been Amy with leukemia, we would have made Ted donate for her, of course.”

“She just wasn’t strong enough to survive,” my father-in-law added with a sigh. “It was her fate. She was just unlucky.”

I was drowning in a sea of rage and despair, screaming for justice for my daughter. But they all pointed their fingers at me, calling me hysterical, irrational. Even my husband, Mark, stood by silently, his face a mask of indifference.

Utterly broken, I carried Amy’s body to the highest floor and leaped.

I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I am, three days before it all began.

“Mommy? Why are you crying?”

A small voice pulled me back to reality.

“Was it because I kicked off the blankets last night? Are you mad at me?”

I turned, my vision blurred with tears. My daughter, Amy, fresh from her nap, was looking up at me with wide, worried eyes. She was only seven, but her gaze held a wisdom that broke my heart.

A fresh wave of grief and love washed over me. I pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying my face in her soft hair.

This time, Mommy won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it.

I packed a bag, and the first thing I did was drive Amy to my mother’s house. Later that afternoon, when I knew Mark would be off work, I called him.

“Mark,” I began, my voice thick with feigned anguish. “I took Amy for a check-up today… The doctor said… he said she has leukemia.”

I let a sob escape my lips.

Last time, you all said you’d make Ted donate if Amy were the sick one, didn’t you?

Let’s see how you react to the news now.

After hanging up, I drove home alone. When I walked in, my in-laws were fawning over Ted, the picture of domestic bliss. My arrival shattered the cozy atmosphere. The smiles vanished from their faces, replaced by annoyance.

Before I could even step fully inside, my m...