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525words2026-01-26 09:10

The mole on my sister-in-law's chin kept growing,becoming more and more jagged and uneven.
I suspected it was a melanoma and urged her to go to the hospital and get rid of it.
Although half-convinced Lily Carter went.

Later,whenever something went wrong for her,my mother-in-law,Margaret Brooks,would tell her,"It's all because your sister-in-law made you remove your lucky mole—serves you right for your bad luck!"
Lily believed it.One night,while I was fast asleep,she called someone to strangle me with a rope.
"I'm cursed,you won’t get away with it either.Pay for my mole with your life!"
Now, going back in time,let's see how long your"lucky mole" could keep you alive,Lily!
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The choking sensation lingered.

I opened my eyes to see Lily holding a mirror in her hand,beaming at her increasingly prominent chin mole.
"My lucky mole's getting bigger—wealth and glory are coming to me!"
I was back to the day Lily asked me about her mole.
Lily's family were devout believers of God,and they were convinced that you could tell a person’s fate on their face.When a mole appeared on her chin after Christmas,she saw it as a divine sign of incoming fortune.

For a whole year,she sunbathed her mole every day,claiming it absorbed the sun's essence,and smeared it holy water from the church,saying it channeled divine energy.
She even shared her"mole-nurturing tips"online.
Some netizens,alarmed by her bizarre routine,warned her to stop and take that mole seriously.
She scoffed,"Jealous of my good fate?You're just bitter,trolling online.I'm only gonna get a better life—mind your own business!"
After blasting them,she turned to me,uneasy."Emma,you're a doctor.Does my mole look okay?"
I'm not a dermatologist,but out of concern,I asked about the changes.Moles usually stay stable for decades,but hers had grown from a pinprick to the size of a sesame seed in a year,turning from brown to black.
I sent photos to a colleague of mine at the hospital who worked in dermatology,she said it looked regular but was changing too fast.To be safe,she should remove it and send the sample to the lab for a test.
They warned me about melanoma—a deadly cancer if confirmed.
I told Lily her mole-nurturing routine was dangerous and urged her to get it removed.
"You sure,Emma?You're certain it's bad?"
"I can't be certain,but as a doctor,I recommend removal for your own safety.Prevention beats treatment."
She got it removed and tested—it was benign.
But whenever Lily hit a snag—failing exams,getting rejected,even choking on water—Margaret blamed it on the missing mole.
Lily grew more and more furious over time.When it was Christmas again,she used a breakup as an excuse crash at my place for one night.
While I slept,she let someone in to strangle me,staging it as suicide with Margaret's help.
I remember her cold stare as I faded away:"You took my lucky mole away—give me your life then, to bring my fortune back!"
I died for a mole.
So funny.
"Emma?Emma!Why aren't you answering?Is my mole fine?"
"I'm an orthopedist,not an expert when it comes to problems with the skin.Maybe check with a hospital?"
Lily waved it off."A mole causing trouble?It's my lucky mole!"
Lily,if that mole's so precious,let it carry you to your grave!