Chapter 1

I lost my sight at three and my parents at five.

When I was eight, my brother Thomas was claimed by a wealthy family and became the true heir.

The spoiled, troublesome fake heir Robert was kicked out.

I stood between my two brothers and pushed Thomas. "Thomas, I can't hold you back anymore. Go live the good life."

Thomas crouched down and pinched my cheek. "Did I say I wasn't going to take care of you anymore?"

Later, the good-for-nothing Robert also became a reliable brother.

They became my solid sky, my steady ground, my cane that I tapped forward with every step.

They told me, "Chris, do you know why the baby mix-up happened?"

"It's because the world wanted us to come to you and become your two eyes."

I always knew I couldn't live without Thomas.

When I lost my sight at three, my parents abandoned me. Thomas walked for five hours to bring me back.

The thin boy's back carried me steadily. I heard him say firmly, "If you don't want her, I'll raise her."

When I was five, my parents died in a car accident. Thomas had just started his freshman year of high school and was one of the top students.

At the funeral, people came and went. They said, "Thomas, your sister will hold you back for the rest of your life."

They said you should find a dark night and abandon her.

So that night, Thomas woke me up. I didn't cry or fuss as he picked me up.

Thomas carried me for a long time. When he stopped, I felt sunlight warming my face.

Thomas said, "Chris, this is sunrise. You can't see it, but you can feel it."

Thomas pinched my cheek. "The sun rises every day, just like I'll be by your side every day."

That day, sitting among the crowd watching the sunrise, I heard people humming and singing. Someone handed me a candy.

Thomas said, "Chris, this world is beautiful. Don't be afraid. Grow up bravely."

I nodded, half understanding.

Later, Thomas worked part-time while going to school, supporting both of us by himself.

When I was seven, I started at a school for the blind.

The stylus made dots on the braille paper. The first word I learned was "brother," the second was "Thomas."

But on my eighth birthday, I waited at the school gates and Thomas never came.

Later, I heard my teacher talking to someone nearby, handing me over to an unfamiliar pair of hands.

The teacher said, "Chris, you'll go with him from now on."

I touched his face. "Who are you?"

He said, "I'm your brother."

I shook my head. "You're not my brother. My brother is Thomas."

He was silent for a moment before saying, "My name is Robert. From now on, I'm your brother."

The teacher explained to me that they'd been switched as babies, and this person was my real brother.

Thomas was someone else's child.

The teacher put it gently, but someone standing nearby, eager for drama, said:

"I saw Thomas get into a luxury car. He's definitely gone off to live the good life. He's not going to remember you."

Someone else said, "I know Robert. He's the school bully. Fighting, skipping class, causing trouble—he does it all."

"The Davis family found out he wasn't their real child and kicked him out. Now he's got a blind sister too. Talk about bad luck."

I was scared. I stood there crying.

I cried until the crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only the breathing of the person in front of me.

I wiped my tears and asked him, "Thomas went to live the good life, didn't he?"

He said yes.

I said, "Then I'll go with you."

Then I added carefully, "I'm very good. I can do a lot of things by myself."

He touched my head and picked me up.

His arms weren't as solid as Thomas's, but they were thin and strong.

I said quietly, "Can I call you Robert?"

He said yes.

After a while I said, "Robert, I'm sorry."

He didn't speak for a long time.

I tentatively touched his face, felt his earring, his eyebrow piercing. I thought he might be a scary person.

But I heard him say, "Don't be afraid. I'll protect you from now on."