When I Went Dead, Their Regret Came Too Late

Celandine's POV

For six years, my mother Isolde believed I had committed an unforgivable sin. Under the guise of "reforming my character," she continuously injected me with neurotoxic antibiotics, confining me to a wheelchair to act as a crippled companion to my sister, Alondra.

My entire family silently condoned this punishment, favoring my sister who was merely faking her paralysis. I had long since surrendered all my dignity, numbly enduring every injustice.

On my nineteenth birthday, I humbly begged her to stop the injections for just one day. I didn't want to look pathetic in front of my childhood sweetheart, Joren.

Moments later, I uncovered the cruel truth on the balcony: my sister’s legs had healed long ago. Six years of agony had been nothing but a staged performance.

The long-accumulated drug toxicity suddenly erupted inside my body. I tumbled to the floor together with my wheelchair. Summoning the last ounce of my strength, I managed to reach a bottle of pills meant to alleviate the toxicity.

As my consciousness faded, a faint, hopeless wish lingered in my heart: I thought that if I just fell asleep, I might regain feeling in my legs when I woke up.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized with horror—I was already dead.

—

Six years ago, when I was thirteen, I demonstrated a new ballet routine in front of my sister, who was sitting in a wheelchair. In return, Isolde slapped me hard across the face. In her eyes, I was maliciously showing off to my paralyzed sister.

As a doctor, Isolde picked up a syringe. She pushed a heavy dose of antibiotics into my vein: "Since you can't feel her pain, sit in a wheelchair and keep her company."

For six full years, I became Alondra’s crippled puppet.

"Mom, please... no injections today."

On my nineteenth birthday, I grabbed Isolde’s wrist with trembling hands, pleading weakly.

"Joren is coming over to celebrate my birthday today. I don't want to look like a monster in front of him, dropping my food bowl... or like last time, choking and spraying food all over him because my throat seized up..."

Isolde pulled her arm away coldly, her expression suffocatingly frigid.

"You can't handle it after just six years?" Isolde’s words sliced into my heart like a blade. "If you hadn't faked being sick at thirteen and forced her to deliver Joren's birthday gift in your place, would she have been hit by a car and had her spine shattered? You forced Alondra into a wheelchair for the rest of her life! You owe her this!"

With that, she turned away without a second glance and pushed Alondra’s wheelchair toward the garden.

I painfully maneuvered my wheelchair to the balcony. Today was my nineteenth birthday, and my childhood sweetheart, Joren Hale, was visiting. He was the only light in my dark world, and I wanted to see him the moment he arrived.

A black sports car pulled up outside the garden gate. The handsome Joren stepped out of the vehicle.

My heart raced, but in the next second, the scene before my eyes made my blood freeze—

Alondra, who was supposed to be paralyzed, suddenly stood up straight from her wheelchair!

She took light, swift steps, fluttering into Joren’s arms like a joyful butterfly!

Joren effortlessly wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and spinning her around with pure devotion on his face.

And Isolde stood right beside them, watching them with maternal affection.

"Joren, Alondra, don't waste your sympathy on that wretched girl Celandine," Isolde’s voice drifted up with the wind, ice-cold. "I've injected her with antibiotics every day for six years. It sounds harsh, but she is inherently evil. She must be disciplined this way."

I gripped the balcony railing until my knuckles turned white, tears soaking my collar as pure, bitter despair flooded my soul.

So that was the truth... Alondra's legs had recovered long ago!

A violent spasm racked my abdomen, accompanied by sudden dizziness and uncontrollable hand tremors. The severe side effects of long-term high-dose drug toxicity had fully erupted.

I frantically wheeled myself back to my room. I remembered there was a pill box on the top shelf of the nightstand containing medication to relieve these tremors and heart palpitations—medicine I had taken before when Isolde administered an overdose.

I fought to maneuver the wheelchair close to the cabinet, straining to reach the medicine box high above.

In the next instant, I lost my balance. I crashed to the floor, pulling the wheelchair down on top of me!

The violent impact caused me to lose control of my bladder, and a sharp stench filled the air. But I had no time to care about my dignity, because several white pills had scattered across the floor.

I crawled across the freezing floor like a dog, desperately stretching out my trembling fingers to shove the pills into my mouth. In the end, I simply tipped the entire bottle down my throat!

Without water, the dry pills scraped my throat, causing blood to surge up, but I didn't care. I only prayed that my legs would show even a tiny spark of sensation!

I hit and pinched my numb legs frantically until the skin turned purple and bruised, but they remained like two lifeless pieces of wood, completely devoid of pain.

I recalled six months ago when Isolde took Alondra to stay at Grandmother Marwen’s house for a few days. During those days without injections, I tried every night to move my toes, but there was never any response. When they returned, my legs remained paralyzed. Only then did I secretly start swapping out the medication, clinging to the illusion that I could recover once the drugs stopped...

Lying on the freezing floor right now, I finally faced the bloody reality.

My legs would never stand again.

The toxic overdose flared up completely. Violent dizziness and nausea engulfed my body, and my vision began to turn white and blurry.

I was so tired. I was truly so exhausted.

I closed my eyes in weariness, praying silently in my heart: Just sleep... maybe when I wake up, this nightmare will finally be over.

I didn't know how much time had passed before I opened my eyes again.

A miracle had occurred!

My body felt incredibly weightless, and my legs, once heavy as lead, were filled with strength again.

I stood up! I actually stood up!

"I can walk! I'm really healed!"

Ecstasy surged through me. Crying tears of joy, I ran to the mirror to see myself standing once more.

However, the moment I looked into the mirror, the blood in my veins ran stone-cold—

In the mirror, there was no reflection of me standing.

There was only an overturned, empty wheelchair.

And beside the wheelchair, lying silently on the cold floor, was a corpse with a pale, bluish face that had long stopped breathing.