After I Died on the Operating Table
When I woke early that morning, sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains and fell on my bedside. I touched the small toy Mom had tucked under my pillow, my heart brimming with hope.
Mom and Dad are both forensic pathologists. They always say their work is to ensure that the truth is never hidden.
The night before, Mom smiled and told me that once they finished their cases, they would come home to buy me the biggest birthday cake and stay with me to blow out the candles.
I waited by the window all morning, but the only message Dad sent was that they were handling a murder case, staking out the murderer, and might be home late.
I held the phone, my fingers tracing the screen again and again, wanting to call them, to hear their voices.
Grandmother was cooking in the kitchen and called me over to help set the table, but I shook my head, saying I wanted to wait for Father and Mother to come back and set it together.
Time passed slowly; outside, the sun was gradually sinking westward, and the unease growing inside me grew stronger.
I couldn't hold back any longer and dialed Father's number.
The phone rang several times before it was answered. Father's voice was soft, carrying a hint of urgency, and he said:
"Sophie, I am busy right now; I'll call you back later, alright?"
I pouted, coaxing like a child: "Daddy, I miss you. When will you come home? Today is my birthday."
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then a burst of noise, followed by Mother's startled cry.
My heart tightened as I shouted, "Daddy? Mommy? What's wrong?"
But on the line was only a busy signal. I gripped the phone, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
Grandmother saw my distress and hurried over, asking me what had happened.
With tears in my voice, I told Grandmother what had just happened. Her face instantly went pale.
Soon after, the doorbell rang.
I thought it was Father and Mother returning, so I ran quickly to open the door. But standing there were two men in police uniforms.
Their expressions were solemn, and when they saw me, their eyes were full of sympathy.
One of the men knelt down and gently patted my head, saying, "Are you Sophie Franklin, Jason Franklin's daughter?"
I nodded, my unease reaching its peak. I asked, "Sir, where are my parents? When will they come home?"
That uncle sighed, his voice low and somber.
"You must be strong. Your parents... were killed by the murderer during their mission."
The words—"were killed"—fell on my heart like a heavy hammer.
I stood frozen, my mind completely blank, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.
I couldn't believe it; the father who had texted me that very morning, the mother who had promised to see me just the day before—they had left me forever.
Grandmother fainted on the spot upon hearing those words.
I threw myself onto Grandmother, crying and calling out "father, mother," but no one answered me anymore.
That day, my birthday cake never arrived; instead, I was met with the cold bodies of my father and mother.
The atmosphere at home grew heavy and lifeless. Grandmother wept constantly, and Felix Franklin, my older brother ten years my senior, looked at me with eyes full of hatred.
At the funeral, Felix stood before the portraits of our father and mother. I approached to take his hand, but he suddenly shook me off and said bitterly:
"It's all your fault! If you hadn't made that call, our father and mother wouldn't have been exposed, and they wouldn't have died!"
He pushed me back several steps, and I fell to the ground. A sharp pain stabbed my knee, but the ache in my heart was far worse than any pain in my body.
I wanted to explain, to tell him I didn't mean it, but the words caught in my throat and turned into broken sobs.
From that day on, Felix Franklin changed.
He no longer played with me like he used to, no longer told me stories, and didn't even say a word to me.
He blames me for the death of Father and Mother, believing that my very existence is a disgrace to this family.
Whenever there are photos at home of me with Father and Mother, he always puts them away or simply throws them out.
One time, I found a family photo in the drawer of me, Father, Mother, and Felix Franklin.
I held it in my hands and looked through it. When Felix saw it, he snatched the photo away, tore it into pieces, and coldly said:
"Don't ever let me see these things again. Seeing you makes me sick."
I squatted on the floor, picking up the pieces of the photo one by one. Tears fell on the fragments, blurring the smiles captured there.
I don't understand why my older brother, who once loved me so much, has become like this now.
The brokenness of my family and my brother's hatred are like two heavy mountains pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
My eighth birthday became a day of mourning that will stay with me for my whole life, etched deep in my heart, never to be erased.
After my parents died, our family lost its source of income, and grandmother's health grew worse.
After Felix Franklin graduated from high school, he was admitted to a medical university far away. The day before he left, he told grandmother he planned to send me to boarding school.
Grandmother disapproved, holding my hand tightly, tears falling as she said,
"Felix, Sophie is still so young; sending her to boarding school is just too cruel. Can't I care for her at home?"
But Felix frowned, his voice icy as he said, "Grandmother, I'm about to start university. You're unwell and simply don't have the time to look after her."
"Besides, I don't want to see her anymore. Seeing her only reminds me of Mom and Dad's death."
I stood silently beside them, head bowed, too afraid to speak, though my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles.
I know, Felix Franklin truly doesn't want to look after me anymore.
The next day, Felix took me to a distant boarding school.
The school was in poor condition; the dormitory had eight beds, all crammed tightly together.
Felix threw my luggage onto the floor, briefly spoke to the teacher, then turned to leave.
I clutched the corner of his shirt and whispered, "Felix, when will you come to see me?"
Felix shook my hand off roughly, his eyes filled with disgust, and said, "I won't come to see you. Stay here and don't cause me any trouble."
After speaking, he walked away without looking back. I watched his figure until he vanished from sight, then crouched down and began to cry.
From that day on, I started life at the boarding school, living there for ten years.
During those ten years, Felix Franklin rarely called me or came to visit.
I would occasionally call Grandmother, who said Felix was doing very well at university, excelling academically, and after graduating, he joined a major hospital as a doctor.
Hearing Grandmother's words, I felt both happy and sad—happy that my older brother had a bright future, yet sad because it seemed he had completely forgotten me.
At school, I am always alone because I have no parents, my Older Brother doesn't care about me, and my classmates don't want to play with me; some even bully me.
They throw my textbooks on the ground and whisper behind my back that I am a "jinx," the one who caused my parents' death.
Every time I hear these words, I hide under my blanket and cry in secret. I wish so much that I could tell them I didn't do it on purpose, but I lack the courage.
What pains me even more is that my health has never been good.
I don't know when it started, but I often have fevers and coughs, and sometimes I feel weak all over.
I called Felix Franklin to tell him about my condition, hoping he would take me to the hospital.
But every time he said, "Sophie Franklin, stop pretending to be sick. I think you just don't want to go to school and are looking for an excuse to go home."
"I'm telling you, I won't be fooled. You better stay at school and behave yourself."
After saying this, he would hang up the phone. No matter how many times I called back, he never answered again.
Once, I had a fever of 39 degrees Celsius and was so dizzy I could barely stand. The teacher called Felix Franklin, asking him to come to school and take me to the hospital.
But Felix lost his temper with the teacher on the phone, saying, "She's just faking being sick. Don't bother with her. Let her tough it out, and she'll be fine."
The teacher had no choice but to give me some fever medicine and let me rest in the dormitory.
I lay in bed, my whole body burning with fever.
In and out of consciousness, I seemed to see Father and Mother; they were smiling and walking towards me, reaching out to hold my hand, but when I stretched out mine, they vanished.
I shouted loudly, "father, mother," but only the empty dormitory answered me.
I thought these days would go on like this until I turned eighteen.
That day, I was in class when a sudden sharp pain surged through my knee, making me collapse to the floor.
My teacher and classmates took me to the hospital. After the examination, the doctor told me I had bone cancer, and it was already at an advanced stage.
When I heard the words "advanced bone cancer," I did not cry; instead, I felt a deep calm within.
Perhaps, for me, death is a kind of relief.
Lying on the hospital bed, I thought of Felix Franklin.
Although he has always been cold to me, he is still my only family.
I want to do something for him, to make up for the mistakes I once made.
I remembered the doctor saying my cornea was healthy. If donated, it could help blind people see the light again.
A decision had taken root in my heart—I would donate my cornea, hoping this might earn Felix Franklin's forgiveness.
I called Felix Franklin and told him I had advanced bone cancer and wished to donate my cornea.
There was a long silence on the other end, then Felix's cold voice came through:
"Sophie Franklin, what trick are you trying now? Don't you think pretending to be sick has worn thin? Now you want to use death to threaten me?"
"I'm telling you, I won't believe you."
Listening to his words, tears finally welled up and fell; I said:
"Felix, I'm not lying to you. Everything I said is true."
"I just want to do something for you, hoping you can forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Felix Franklin sneered, "Unless Mom and Dad come back to life, I will never forgive you."
After saying that, he hung up.
I held the phone tightly, a cold shiver running through my heart.
But I did not waver in my decision. I contacted the hospital's organ donation department and signed the Cornea Donation Agreement.
I only hoped that after I leave this world, my cornea could help someone in need—and maybe soften the hatred lingering in Felix's heart a little.
My condition is worsening, and the doctor said I have at most one month to live.
The hospital arranged for me to undergo cornea donation surgery, scheduled for a week from now.
Lying in the hospital bed, I awaited the surgery every day, hoping to do one last thing for Felix Franklin.
One day, I overheard nurses talking about a girl named Claire Harper, who has been blind since childhood and had never found a suitable cornea match.
My heart stirred—Claire Harper? That name sounded familiar to me.
Later, I learned that Claire Harper was Felix Franklin's adopted sister.
After Felix Franklin started working, he adopted a blind little girl named Claire Harper.
He was very kind to Claire, showering her with all the care and love he once gave me.
In my heart, I felt both envy and sorrow—envy that Claire could receive Felix's love, sorrow that I never could.
On the day of the surgery, I was wheeled into the operating room.
The nurse gave me an anesthesia injection, and I gradually slipped into unconsciousness.
Before I lost consciousness, I silently wished, "Felix, I hope you can forgive me, and I hope Claire will see the light again."
What I didn't know was that Felix Franklin was right next door in the operating room, serving as the lead surgeon for Claire Harper's cornea transplant.
When my cornea was removed and sent to the adjoining operating room, Felix was wholly focused on performing surgery on Claire.
He never asked who the cornea donor was, nor did he care about the donor's fate; in his mind, there was only Claire, and only the hope of restoring her sight.
The surgery went very smoothly, and Claire's operation was a success.
But I, neglected and forgotten, died upon the operating table.
My breathing slowly stopped, and my heartbeat grew ever fainter until it ceased entirely.
No one noticed my death; my body was forgotten in the operating room, the cold surgical lights casting a bleak glow over my face.
It was not until the afternoon, when homeroom teacher Ms. Dawson and the school's Mr. Lowell came to visit me at the hospital, that they discovered I was already dead.
Ms. Dawson gazed at my body, tears streaming uncontrollably, while Mr. Lowell immediately went to find Felix Franklin.
Mr. Lowell found Felix Franklin in the doctor's office, where Felix was writing the surgical report.
Mr. Lowell hurried over, his tone urgent: "Dr. Franklin, something's wrong. Your sister, Sophie Franklin... she died on the operating table."
Felix Franklin's hand holding the pen faltered, then he lifted his head. His eyes held no sorrow—only impatience and anger.
He said, "Died? What act is she putting on this time?"
"Mr. Lowell, how many times have I told you? She loves to use this to gain people's sympathy. How can you still believe her?"
Mr. Lowell frowned. "Dr. Franklin, this is true. Ms. Dawson has already confirmed it. Sophie is truly gone."
"You should still go see her; after all, she is your own younger sister."
"Younger sister?" Felix Franklin sneered coldly and threw his pen onto the desk. "I don't have such a sister!"
"She's just a jinx who caused my parents to die, and now she wants to trouble me with death again!"
"I'm telling you, I won't go see her. It would be better if she were dead!"
Mr. Lowell looked into Felix Franklin's icy eyes, filled with helplessness and anger.
He never expected Felix Franklin to be so cold, so cruel to his own sister.
Mr. Lowell sighed and said, "Dr. Franklin, how can you say that?"
"Sophie is also a victim. What happened back then is not entirely her fault."
"Even until the day she died, she hoped to gain your forgiveness. She donated her cornea hoping to make amends to you. How can you be so heartless?"
"Make amends to me?" Felix's emotions flared. He stood up and pointed at Mr. Lowell, saying, "How can she possibly make amends to me?"
"Can she bring my parents back to life? She can't! So whatever she does is useless. I will never forgive her!"
Mr. Lowell wanted to say more, but Felix Franklin impatiently waved him off and interrupted, saying:
"Mr. Lowell, please don't say these things to me anymore. I still have work to do. You should go."
Mr. Lowell looked at Felix's resolute back, shook his head helplessly, and then turned to leave the Doctor's Office.
He knew that Felix was blinded by hatred, and no matter what he said, Felix would not listen.
And my body still lay in the cold Operating Room, waiting for someone to come and claim it.
But I waited for a long time and never saw the person I wanted to see most.
After Mr. Lowell came out of the doctor's office, he felt a deep unease.
He felt he couldn't just let it be. Felix Franklin couldn't remain blinded by hatred forever. He had to make Felix understand the truth, to see Sophie Franklin's heartfelt intentions.
Mr. Lowell found Ms. Dawson and told her about Felix Franklin's attitude.
Ms. Dawson was angry when she heard this. She said, "How could Felix treat Sophie this way?"
"Sophie has always been very sensible at school. Although her health was poor, she studied hard and never complained. She always missed Felix deeply."
"Now that she's dead, Felix Franklin won't even spare her a glance. It's utterly unforgivable!"
Mr. Lowell sighed and said,
"It's no use talking about this now. We must find a way to make Felix understand the truth—that the cornea Sophie donated actually went to Claire Harper."
Ms. Dawson nodded and said, "Yes, once he learns this, he will surely be deeply moved."
So, Mr. Lowell and Ms. Dawson went together to find Felix once more.
They found Felix in the hospital corridor, just about to visit Claire in her ward.
Mr. Lowell walked over and stopped Felix Franklin. "Dr. Franklin, we have something very important to tell you about Sophie."
Felix frowned and said coldly, "Haven't I already told you? Stop bringing up her case. I don't want to hear it."
"You need to hear this!" Mr. Lowell's tone grew serious. "The cornea Sophie donated was given to Claire Harper."
"Do you realize it was Sophie's cornea that restored Claire's sight?"
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