My Evil Mother and Favored Sister

When I handed my resignation letter to my supervisor's desk, his fingers paused on the paper. He pushed the application back to me and sighed, "Lisa, think about it again. You just got promoted to department supervisor last year, the team has barely gelled, and you've been at this job for five years." I pushed the application back again and shook my head. The stomach cancer diagnosis paper in my pocket, its edges crumpled from my tight grip, weighed ten times heavier than the supervisor's plea. While clearing out my desk, Sophie from the next cubicle ran over and handed me a bag of supplements. She shoved the bag into my purse and said, "Last time your mom came to the office with an umbrella, she looked really frail. Don't try to tough it out caring for her. If you need anything, just let us know." Clutching that bag of protein powder, my nose went sour, and I couldn't even say a proper "Thank you." On the way to the hospital by taxi, the driver noticed me staring at the thermos and said, "Going to the inpatient ward at the First Hospital of A City? It's hard to drop you off there. I'll take a shortcut—it'll save about ten minutes." I nodded and then lifted the lid of the thermos. The millet porridge was thick and sticky, with a few goji berries floating on top. My mother Daisy Liebes has bad teeth and she can't eat anything hard. At the ward door, voices drifted out—it was Daisy and Mrs. Sheen from the clinic. "Lisa in my family is just a worthless loser." Daisy's voice was dripping with smug pride. My steps froze, the thermos handle digging painfully into my palm. Mrs. Sheen chuckled: "Your youngest daughter Cindy is really thoughtful. Last time I saw her bring bird's nest soup, the packaging was so fancy." "That's right!" Daisy 's voice rose, "My elder daughter quits her job to take care of me? I think she's just scared I'll give the retirement savings to Cindy—already eyeing my coffin money!" Their laughter echoed inside, stabbing my ears like needles. I stood outside the door, waiting until the laughter died down before reaching out to push it open. Daisy saw me, still wearing that smug look that hadn't quite faded, and quickly got up to take my bag: "It's cold outside, isn't it? Rub your hands quickly. I was just telling Mrs. Sheen you were coming." I set the thermos on the bedside table and didn't take her bag. "Mom, I heard everything you just said." Daisy's hand froze mid-air, her eyes flickered, then she reached out to grab my arm: "Oh, silly. I was just joking with Mrs. Sheen! She's jealous because I have two daughters, she was teasing me on purpose." Mrs. Sheen quickly tried to smooth things over: "Yeah, Lisa, I was just joking with your mom. Don't take it to heart." I said nothing and turned to walk toward the nurses' station. The nurse saw me and immediately pulled out a bill: "Miss Walker, your mom still needs this treatment. The account doesn't have enough money now; you'll need to pay an extra twenty thousand dollars." I stared at the numbers on the bill, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. For these three months, I slept on a fold-out bed in the hospital room every night, spent the days bringing water, feeding medicine, washing her body and face, and stayed up all night watching the IV drip until dawn. But in my mother's eyes, I'm just a loser who only wants money. I pulled my salary card out of my wallet and handed it over: "Please help me cancel the payment, just transfer the remaining balance back." The nurse held the card, momentarily stunned: "Is the cost too high? Should I talk to the doctor to see if they can adjust the medication?" I shook my head, my voice a little hoarse: "No need, there are things I have to handle at home, I'll arrange the rest later." As I walked out of the nurses' station, the surveillance camera on the wall had its red light blinking. On a whim, I went to the head nurse's office: "Could you please pull the surveillance footage from the past three months? I want to see how my mother's been lately." The head nurse hesitated for a moment, then clicked on the video: "Mrs. Liebes has been coming by a lot lately to chat with us about her kids, saying her youngest daughter is especially devoted." On the screen, Daisy visits the nurses' station every Wednesday, holding a photo of my sister Cindy. "Look, my youngest daughter bought me another gold bracelet—it just arrived yesterday." The nurse smiled and praised Cindy's thoughtfulness, but when it comes to me, she just sneered, "Lisa? She only knows how to make some porridge, doesn't even buy imported fruit. She's no comparison to Cindy." In the surveillance footage, her eyes are squinted with a big smile, waving the package receipt Cindy sent her. I stared at the screen, feeling the warmth inside me slowly ebb away. So all those three months of me caring for her day and night meant less to her than even a single delivery from Cindy.