“Look, from now on, this is your new home. Unfortunately, we don’t need a sick person.”

I was suddenly told that and unwittingly taken by car, only to find myself at my aunt’s house before I realized it.

“Your father declared that he wouldn’t pay for your medical expenses in order to cover the costs of your sister’s study abroad.”

Lost for words, I was in a daze, but my aunt warmly welcomed me.

“Sonia, won’t you become my child?”

She proposed, and from that day, I began a new life as the child of my aunt and uncle.

And 10 years have passed.

My name is Sonia. I have two sets of parents.

I regard one set as the worst, and deeply respect and cherish the other.

You might wonder why I have two sets of parents. It’s because my illness complicated the bonds within my family.

Since childhood, I’ve had frequent unexplained seizures, constantly requiring attention. While the symptoms are somewhat controlled by medication, stress and fatigue make seizures more likely, which is why my parents strictly told me to avoid exercise.

I was always a mere spectator during gym class and couldn’t play with my friends freely.

On the other hand, my younger sister Noel, who is four years younger than me, was energetic and talented, carrying all of our parents’ expectations as she grew up.

She was particularly passionate about basketball. In elementary school, she joined a local mini basketball club that was well regarded, and her talent flourished.

She later joined a famous sports club. Her skills improved remarkably, and in games, she always played as a starting member. As a representative, she led the team and actively competed with older players during practice.

I felt proud watching her, yet a little envious.

During this time, my parents began to make a clear distinction between how they treated me and Noel. This was especially true in terms of meals.

Noel received nutritious homemade food. For me, it was mostly simple bread and instant soup. Sometimes, I would get leftovers from what Noel didn’t finish.

There was also a disparity in clothing. Noel wore trendy children’s clothes, while I was given hand-me-downs.

For birthdays, Christmas, and school promotions, Noel was treated specially, whereas I was often neglected.

This discriminatory treatment became a part of my daily life.

“Big sister, won’t you play basketball with me?”

My innocent younger sister would always ask cheerfully. She held the ball and looked at me with shining eyes.

“Sorry, I can’t do intense exercise,” I reluctantly answered.

Noel looked up at the sky, pondering, then suddenly smiled.

“We can at least pass the ball, right?”

While saying this, she tried to hand me the basketball. I thought I could handle just practicing passes, but my parents disagreed.

My mother was especially strict. As I reached to take the ball, she forcefully shook off my hand and yelled loudly.

“Sonia, you never know when you might have a seizure, so don’t do anything.”

Startled by her shouting, my sister froze in place. The ball dropped to the ground and slowly rolled away.

Picking up the ball, my mother returned it to my sister with a smile.

“Noel, let’s practice passing together,” she said.

After glancing at me, she spoke kindly to my sister and walked away with her.

After they left, I felt a deep sadness and irritation, and I cried alone.

A memorable event occurred when I was in the first year of middle school and Noel was in the third grade of elementary school.

On a spring day, I felt unwell from the morning and was bedridden. Due to my sister’s important game, my parents left me at home and went to the match.

“Ah, when I’m feeling ill, it’ll be more likely for me to have seizures,” I thought.

The overlap of feeling unwell and being left alone heightened my anxiety, accumulating stress, and by noon, I had a severe seizure.

Feeling the danger, I immediately called an ambulance.

When I woke up, I was on a hospital bed. Just as I woke up, a nurse who came to change my IV noticed and smiled at me.

“Sonia, you’re in the hospital. Do you understand me?” she asked.

I nodded in response.

Looking carefully around, there was no sign of my family in the hospital room.