I don’t want parents who are
excessively self–sacrificing.
I died in a foreign country again. Mom, Dad,
and my brother, Ethan, were huddled around
frail little Alex, just like last time. No matter
how hard I tried, my family always chose Alex,
the adopted kid, leaving me alone. After being
reborn, I gave up fighting, ready to accept my
fate. But this time, I won.
1
I opened my eyes to the familiar ceiling, my
older brother, Ethan, beside me. This was the
day Alex was adopted. Dad had served in the
military, and Alex was the son of his comrade
who supposedly saved Dad’s life. Alex’s
parents had died suddenly, and he had
asthma, so my parents took him in, afraid no
<
one else could care for him properly.
“Ethan, Noah, this is your little brother, Alex.
He’s not very strong, so you need to take
care of him, okay?” Mom said, her voice
dripping with tenderness as she held Alex’s
small hand.
This was where it all started in my past life.
I’d protested, complaining about the
excessive attention and affection Alex
received. My family scolded me harshly. Even
reborn, the sight of Alex’s frail, delicate
appearance made me sick. He was a boy, yet
he acted so…fragile. It was irritating. Ethan
seemed fine with it; he liked the quiet, doe-
eyed kid.
Dad came over and patted my head. “Noah,
be good. Alex is younger and not well. You’re
く
his older brother, you’ll set a good example,
right?”
A weight settled in my chest. Suddenly, I was
expected to dote on Alex, to give way to him. Any reluctance on my part would be treated
as a grave offense. But I was their biological
son! For ten years, I had everything I wanted.
Then Alex arrived, and all the attention
vanished.
“Brother?” Alex whispered from behind Mom,
his large eyes welling up, as if I were some
terrifying monster. He was playing the victim
again, making it seem like I’d done something
to him. Every time he did this in my past life,
my family would accuse me of bullying him,
widening the rift between us. Seeing him peek
at me from behind Mom, pulling the same
stunt, I felt a surge of apathy.
My silence drew my parents‘ gaze. Mom
frowned. “Noah, Alex just got here. Don’t be
difficult.”
The same words, the same scenario.
“Think what you want. Whatever,” I mumbled,
turning and heading upstairs, leaving the
happy little family below. They loved me, yes,
but their love felt cheap, easily swayed by a
few of Alex’s tears. Love that could be stolen
wasn’t worth having. If Alex wanted to playact
for it, he could have it. I didn’t care.
