People always say “blood is thicker than water”, but I learned the hard way that blood can also be poisonous. I never imagined that the very person I called sister, the one I grew up with, could be the reason behind all the tears, the countless nights of poverty, and even the mysterious deaths of my children.
I was born with potential. In school I was always bright, teachers spoke highly of me, and opportunities seemed to follow me naturally. But the moment I reached adulthood, everything started going wrong. Every job application failed, every relationship collapsed, and whenever I got pregnant, something tragic would happen. I lost two babies before their first birthdays, each death more painful than the last. Doctors would say it was “medical complications,” but deep down, I knew there was more.
The turning point came when an old aunt whispered to me, “Your sister is not innocent. She tampered with your star.” At first I refused to believe it. How could my own blood be behind my suffering? But then I started connecting the dots. While I was drowning in pain, my sister’s life was rising unnaturally fast. She moved from one successful deal to another, built a house in the city, drove flashy cars, and even traveled abroad. To continue reading, click here.