Chapter 2

My memories grew hazy, blurring into a chaotic darkness where I thought I heard voices.

"It's done."

A calm male voice, tinged with post-surgery fatigue.

"Very smooth." Another voice responded.

They were the doctors.

So... the surgery was a success! I was alive!

Iris's heart was beating in my chest.

This realization brought tears to my eyes.

But the next second, a crushing wave of guilt washed over me.

It was Iris... the one who always quietly followed me, the one with a healthy heart, who had given hers to me.

What about her? Was she alright?

I used every ounce of my consciousness to try and open my eyes, to take one last look at Iris, who must be on the operating table beside me.

But my eyelids felt like they were soldered shut, heavy and unmoving.

Only endless darkness, and the increasingly clear voices in my ears.

"Finally, a weight off our shoulders."

Mom's voice carried through the operating room door.

"Yeah," Dad responded, pausing for a moment before saying, "Eight years, finally paid off."

My heart gave a soft tremor.

Eight years... was it for me to live?

They must have suffered so much too.

Now they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I struggled to get up, focusing my will against the darkness before my eyes.

Light flooded in, and I instinctively turned my head, looking at the other operating table beside me.

Iris lay quietly on it, her eyes bandaged, but her chest rose and fell gently with her breathing.

She... she was alive!

Thank goodness, we both made it.

This realization brought me a bewildered sense of relief.

The doctors must have found another suitable heart donor at the last minute.

Fate, after all, was finally kind to us.

"Iris..." I mumbled, stumbling off the bed and toward Iris, wanting to apologize to her.

I reached out, but my fingertips passed right through her hand resting on the bed's edge, without any resistance.

No warmth, no substance.

I looked down at my hands, now faintly transparent, and finally understood my current state.

Turning back, on the operating table I had just risen from, a white sheet already covered it, outlining a human form.

I walked over and gently lifted it.

The "me" beneath had pure white bandages over her eyes, looking as if she were just peacefully sleeping.

So, I... I didn't survive the surgery after all?

I looked at my transparent hands, then at Iris's bandaged eyes.

No, it couldn't be.

Mom and Dad loved me so much, how could they...

But that phrase, "eight years, finally paid off," now echoed with a jarring harshness.

The operating room door opened. Medical staff entered, skillfully moving Iris's gurney out.

I silently followed alongside.

My parents waited outside the door.

They immediately rushed forward.

Mom gently stroked Iris's hair. Dad quietly asked the doctor, "Will she... be able to see soon?"

"The surgery was a complete success. She'll regain her sight after recovery."

They wore smiles of relief I had never seen before, as if losing a daughter was something to celebrate.

Mom and Dad walked slowly with the gurney down the hospital corridor.

They never once looked back.

I stood alone in the empty hallway, watching their backs disappear into the light at the far end.

Despite a pang of loss, I was happy for them.

Iris's eyes were finally healed. On such a joyous day, seeing my corpse would be bad luck.

They could finally start a new life.

No longer worried about me, this ailing child, no longer counting down the days with bated breath.

A moment later, an orderly came in and turned the gurney carrying my body in another direction.

"So young, what a pity."

"I heard her corneas were donated to her sister."

The gurney wheels rolled smoothly, echoing down the cold corridor, heading toward the morgue.

So that was it.

I hadn't received a heart; I had given my eyes.

My death, in exchange for Iris's sight.