After being accepted to New York University, I abruptly ended my relationship with my struggling father. A year later, he bounced back and adopted a daughter who was more obedient and charming than I ever was. During a New Year’s live stream, I requested to connect live to send him my wishes: “Happy New Year, Dad. I hope you find peace, health, happiness, and joy.” He scoffed: “Don’t call me Dad. I don’t have a daughter like you!” I lowered my gaze, holding back tears, but kept smiling: “I’m sorry, this will be the last time I call you Dad.” He sneered: “The last time? I hope it’s the last time before you die.” Hearing this, the host looked shocked and asked: “Mr. Anderson, didn’t you know? This was pre-recorded by Miss Nora.” “And she really did as you said, she passed away…” “Passed away?” His sneer froze on his lips, a flicker of unease in his eyes. But he quickly composed himself. “Is this just a gimmick for the live stream?” The host wanted to explain, but my pre-recorded message continued: “Next, I’d like to sing a song for my dad.” Clearing my throat, I tried to hold back my tears and began to sing: “I wish we could be like before~ Holding your warm hand~ But you’re not by my side~ May the wind bring you health… Thank you for everything you did~ Holding up our home with your hands~ Always giving your all~ Giving me the best…” Finally, I finished singing, choked up. As tears fell, I fled from the camera in a panic. The screen only carried my slightly tearful voice: “Dad, being your daughter in this life has been my greatest fortune.” The live connection ended there. He remained indifferent, “Hmph, putting on an act.” The streaming chat was filled with ridicule: “Hilarious, why is Nora trying to find a sense of presence now?” “Education filters out the uneducated, not the immoral!” “Did New York University find her character unfit and reject her, so now she’s begging for sympathy seeing Mr. Anderson’s comeback?” “It’s like a satisfying story, the evil daughter abandons her father for glory, does all sorts of bad things, ends miserably.” My end was indeed miserable, dying painfully. But I had never done anything wrong. I’d massage his back, wash and cook for him. In the short 19 years, the only wrong thing I did was to sever ties during his hardest year. But I didn’t want to. I was sick, and if I didn’t, I’d drag him down… At this moment, the host also began to explain: “Mr. Anderson, this isn’t a gimmick, please look at the big screen…”
Soon, my image appeared on the big screen. The background was outside the hospital’s oncology department. But the next moment, I held up a medical record to block the camera, my tone impatient: “I said no filming, can you stop following me!” Off-screen, a mature and sincere female voice sounded: “Little sister, my name is Fiona, I’m not a scammer, I’m from the Goodbye Cancer program, I can help you.” I moved the file away, revealing my gaunt and bloodless face on camera. But quickly, I shoved the record to a clear angle, pointing at the diagnosis: “Do you know what wild-type rectal cancer is? Do you know what fetal differentiation adenocarcinoma is? It’s a cancer brought from the womb, a rare disease, only 5 cases nationwide, There’s no targeted chemotherapy plan. The doctor said I have at most one year to live.” The screen went silent. I just tugged at my lips: “It’s useless for you to help me, I’m only headed for death, find someone else.” With that, I turned and left. “Our show pays well, as long as you agree to film, you’ll have money for treatment.” The woman grabbed me. I shook my head, with a bitter smile: “Proton therapy, the only chemotherapy that works a bit for me right now, do you know how much one session costs?” I held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand.” I removed her hand and turned away. The next second, I suddenly knelt down, collapsing to the ground. The camera shook violently, off-screen were panicked shouts: “Little sister!”
[Goodbye Life, Part Two—September 10, 2023—Everyone’s Bald] “You’re Nora, the one who got into New York University this year, right?” I had just sat down at the salon, looking displeased: “Why are you here again?” Fiona’s voice was still gentle, like a caring elder sister: “You’re trending, everyone online calls you an ungrateful person, saying your dad sold everything to get you into college and you abandoned him when he was down. “But they don’t know you have cancer. Let us film a documentary for you, clear your name.” I looked at myself in the mirror, my smile ugly: “I want them to think I’m an ungrateful person, especially… Dad.” With that, I didn’t pay her any more mind, only touched the ends of my hair, lowered my eyes with a bitter smile, my voice barely audible: “I’m sorry, Dad, I couldn’t protect your beloved hair.” When I looked up again, my eyes were red. “Tony, please shave my head.” Tony looked incredulous: “Are you sure? Your hair is so long and beautiful, and it looks well cared for.” I did take care of it often, just a few days ago Dad helped me with it, he loved washing my hair. I nodded firmly, my tone as if discussing something ordinary: “With cancer, even if I don’t cut it now, it’ll fall out after chemotherapy.” With that, Tony didn’t say more, only started shaving my head with trembling hands. Two minutes later, I was successfully bald. I stood up to thank him, ready to pay, but Tony stopped me: “It’s free, you don’t need to pay.” But I still moved his hand away and scanned to pay. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.” Just then, Tony picked up the razor and started shaving his own head. “I’ll join you, I think a bald head looks pretty cool too.” I was stunned. Before I could recover, Fiona also spoke: “Give me one too, I want to try a bald style.” Before I could stop her, her beautiful hair was on the floor. Two lines of tears slid down my cheeks, “You really didn’t have to… I’m really… fine…” But neither of them spoke, only smiled at me, silly grins. Leaving the salon, I turned to face the camera: “I agree to your filming, I don’t want to owe anyone.”
[Goodbye Life, Part Three—September 11, 2023—Silent Fatherly Love] “Why did you cut ties with your dad, isn’t it better to face it together?” Off-screen, Fiona’s voice asked. I gave a bitter smile, “It’s not!” “Why?” Fiona looked puzzled. I didn’t answer, just took out my phone, found a news video saved three years ago. On the phone screen, my dad soon appeared. At 2 a.m., he was wearing a delivery uniform, squatting on the street eating a bowl of plain noodles. Back then, he was just over 40, with graying temples. The reporter asked him: “Sir, why are you just eating a bowl of plain noodles?” Dad ate with relish, simply replied: “Enough.” The reporter asked again: “You’re holding a bag of meat, why not eat it?” Dad glanced at the meat, his face full of joy: “Saving it for my daughter’s breakfast tomorrow, hehe.” The reporter asked once more: “Why work so hard? Delivering late at night?” Dad seemed to think of something, the fatigue on his face vanished, replaced by pride: “My daughter got into a good high school, the best in the province, it costs money hehe.” The video went silent. Dad quickly finished the noodles, then rode off on his scooter. The reporter encouraged: “Sir, keep it up!” Dad waved, “Just do it!” The video ended there. Even though I’d seen it countless times, my tears couldn’t be stopped. I sniffed, smiled: “When I got out of school, Anderson would always have dinner ready at home, but one day, I got out early and didn’t see him. I asked where he went, he lied saying he was out with friends having a feast, but he was delivering food.” “At night, he’d sneak out to deliver once I was asleep, thinking I didn’t know, but I did…” “Back then I vowed to study hard, get into the best university, repay him.” “Later… I got in, but I didn’t get the chance to repay him…” I finished with a smile, but why? Why does one cry while smiling? Tilting my head to wipe my tears, I asked Fiona with a sob: “Fiona, what do you think Anderson would do if he knew I had cancer?” Fiona couldn’t find words. “He’d sell blood, sell a kidney.” Saying this made my heart tremble: “To save up for my senior year tuition and living expenses, he wanted to secretly sell blood and a kidney, luckily I found out and stopped him by threatening my own life…” I finished speaking with a smile, but why? Why do people cry when they laugh? Tilting my head back, I wiped the tears from my face and, with a voice filled with emotion, asked Fiona: “Fiona, what do you think Anderson would do if he found out I have cancer?” Fiona looked at me, speechless. “He would sell his blood and kidney.” As I said this, my heart trembled: “When he was trying to save up for my senior year tuition and living expenses, he secretly planned to sell his blood and kidney without telling me. Thankfully, I found out and stopped him by threatening to take my own life…” I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes: “Before I left, an angel investor showed interest in his project. “They say when one person gets cancer, the whole family suffers. “Do you think the angel investor would still be interested if they knew there was a sick person in the family?” Fiona’s voice trembled slightly: “Nora…” I shook my head, indicating it was okay. “Cancer might take my life, but chemotherapy, costing 50,000 each time, would take my dad’s life.” Fiona pursed her lips, her eyes starting to turn red. I sniffled with a smile: “On the day I left, I used the harshest words to tear Anderson apart. “He knelt and begged me, saying he’d make a fortune soon and asked me to wait for him for a year. In a year, he’d make me the happiest little princess in the world. “Do you know how much I wanted to stay and wait for him, year after year, and grow old together? “But… I can’t wait…” Tears fell like pearls from a broken necklace, dripping down. I messily wiped the tears from my face and pleaded: “Fiona, can you release these videos after I’m gone?” The screen started shaking, and Fiona choked up: “Nora, you won’t die. You can be cured…” On screen, I swallowed hard, my eyes also filled with tears. “If you don’t promise me, I won’t film anymore.” Her crying became more obvious: “Okay, I promise you…”
[Goodbye Life, Part Four — November 3, 2023 — Nailed the Little Chemo!] In this video, I was noticeably much thinner than before. What was once a slightly chubby face now had sunken cheeks. The cancer cells were spreading rapidly, leaving me in so much pain that I could only lie on the hospital bed like a dead fish. “Can I get a painkiller shot?” My voice was weak. I took out 1,340 yuan from under my pillow and handed it to Fiona; it was all my savings. Fiona sniffled, reaching out to take my money. But the next second, she put the money back under my pillow. “No painkiller shot. You need chemotherapy now. “I asked the doctor. If you don’t undergo chemo, with the current speed of your cancer spreading, you won’t make it through the year…” I smiled slightly, “That’s okay too. Better short pain than long pain…” But Fiona wouldn’t have it, “I’ve already paid for your chemotherapy. The doctor will take you soon.” “Where did you get the money?” I asked, enduring the pain. She helped me sit up straight, her eyes flickering: “The production team applied for it as your appearance fee. Just use it without worry.” I wanted to ask more, but the doctor came to take me to the chemotherapy room. Soon, my body was covered with tubes, and a breathing mask was placed on my mouth. The doctor didn’t allow any filming of the upcoming treatment. Fiona aimed the camera at the door of the chemotherapy room. Moments later, my painful screams echoed from the screen, quite unsettling. The doctor had lied, saying the soundproofing was good, and I could scream freely. Not cool! Half an hour later, the chemotherapy finally ended. I was wheeled out of the chemo room. Seeing Fiona’s camera, I turned my face away. But the camera still caught my face, covered in tears and snot. I quickly wiped my face clean, meeting Fiona’s worried eyes with a big smile. “Nailed the little chemo!” I made a “nailed it” gesture with my hand. Fiona placed her hand over mine, her voice hoarse: “Great job!” “I prepared lunch for you. I made it myself. I hope you like it.” On the table in the hospital room were three dishes and a soup, looking delicious. My eyes sparkled, “Wow, all my favorites! Thank you, Fiona.” Facing the camera, I started acting like a food blogger. “Let’s show everyone what a rectal cancer patient eats after chemo.” I picked up each dish to display to the camera. Then I ate with gusto, even eating half a bowl more rice than usual. Off-camera, Fiona praised me, saying I did great. I exaggeratedly responded, “It’s all because Fiona’s cooking is so good, it reminds me of dad’s cooking, I almost want to lick the plate.” I lifted the plate, pretending I was about to lick it. Fiona sternly stopped me. “No licking the plate.” She placed the camera on the table and cleared the food containers. As soon as Fiona left, my expression turned painful. I rushed off the bed and hugged the trash can, vomiting uncontrollably. When I appeared on camera again, my face was covered with tears from vomiting. “Don’t get me wrong. “Fiona’s cooking is really good. “It’s just the side effects of the chemo are getting worse, making me vomit…”
[Goodbye Life, Part Five — December 31, 2023 — The Last Day of the Year, the Last Day of Life.] “Nora, what do you want to do on the last day of 2023? I’ll make it happen for you.” The scene shifted, I was picking out a nice hat for myself. Hearing this, I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You said it.” I mysteriously pulled her into the car. In the car, she couldn’t help but ask me again: “Nora, where are we going?” I replied with a cheeky grin, “To pick a grave.” Fiona almost dropped her camera, her eyes reddening again, “Nora…” I didn’t mind much. “Fiona, I researched it. Choosing a good good grave is important. “They say being buried in a good grave ensures a next life without sickness and allows me to be Anderson’s daughter again…” When it was time to get out of the car, my smile froze. Because I could no longer walk. With Fiona’s help, I sat in a wheelchair. I picked a cheap grave and pretended to be serious: “After some calculation, this grave is the best. Being buried here, I’ll definitely be born into a good family next life.” Fiona pressed her lips and nodded, looking up at the sky, not at me. Back at the hospital, I was already hooked up to an oxygen tank. It was five minutes until the end of 2023. Fireworks were going off in the sky. Across from the hospital, a crowd gathered in front of the mall’s big screen for the countdown. The TV on the wall broadcasted the New Year’s Eve celebration. Fiona sat next to my hospital bed, chatting with me. I spoke first: “Fiona, after I’m gone, will you always remember me?” Fiona choked up, “Of course.” I shook my head, “No, you must forget me after a year.” Fiona didn’t respond, only asked: “Can you promise me to live well in the new year?” I smiled, “Rock-paper-scissors? If I win, we do it my way. If you win, we do it your way.” In the end, I lost. The countdown sounded on the TV. Outside, the countdown on the big screen started, 10, 9, 8, 7… Sensing something, I looked straight at Fiona as the clock struck midnight: “Fiona, Happy New Year.” “Nora, Happy New Year to you too. Remember, a bet’s a bet.” My smile widened, “Okay…” “Fiona, let me tell you a secret, I really, really miss dad…” The next moment, the heart rate monitor’s alarm went off. My heartbeat flatlined.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295805”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #校园School #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply