Regret Me at My Funeral

Summary

When my parents hung up for the ninety-ninth time, I walked into the Registry Office, clutching my cancer diagnosis report.

“Hello, I’d like to proactively cancel my registration.”

Ten minutes later, my parents rushed in with my adopted sister.

My father, a police officer, stormed in and slapped me. “Wasting police resources just to bicker with your sister? What good did all that schooling do you?!”

My mother, a forensic pathologist, snatched the diagnosis report from my hand. She glanced at it, then sneered, “Faking medical records to get attention, pretending to be sick.