I Became My Family’s Disaster
Language: en
The day I was born, the smiles on my parents’ faces froze the moment the nurse handed me to them. Floating just above my bald head, invisible to everyone else, was a line of numbers. 6570 days. Not one more, not one less. Exactly eighteen years. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents. Only they knew the truth—it was my expiration date. While other families in the maternity ward celebrated new life, my parents were already staring at my end. For the next eighteen years, I was the most precious thing in our house. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were mine, the new…