It felt like someone had plunged a knife straight through my chest and twisted it. Then, Dad. His words were the worst of all.

Your niece’s party is more important than your attention-seeking. We’re all tired of you.

I couldn’t even breathe. I looked up from those texts, back at Daisy’s still, fragile body. They didn’t see her. They didn’t see me. They never had. They only saw what I could do for them: the errands I ran, the emotional sponge I provided, the secondhand mother to everyone’s kids. My phone buzzed again, but before I could read it, the door to Daisy’s room opened. The doctor stepped in, his face solemn, his voice grave.