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墨書 Inktalez
For two days, Lin Wan had not stepped out of her room.
This child was becoming increasingly unreasonable. Even after coming home, she locked herself in her room all day, silent and uncommunicative, I had no idea what she was up to. A few days ago, she mentioned some company project that required her to go out of town for a while; I suspected it was just an excuse to brush me off.
Dinner was ready, the dishes laid out on the table. She still hadn’t come out.
I felt a twinge of annoyance and walked to her door, knocking gently. “Lin Wan? It’s time for dinner.”
There was no response.
I knocked harder, raising my voice slightly. “Lin Wan? Can you hear me? Are you deaf?”
Still, there was only silence.
A wave of inexplicable irritation surged within me. I twisted the doorknob; it wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open and peeked inside.
The room was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn tightly shut. She lay on the bed, covered by a blanket, facing away from the door, seemingly asleep.
“What time is it? Why are you still sleeping?” I scolded under my breath as I stepped inside, preparing to pull her up. “Get up! Dinner is getting cold…”
My words suddenly caught in my throat.
As I got closer, illuminated by the faint light filtering in from the door, I finally saw something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Her posture was unnaturally stiff, and it was too quiet—too quiet for a living person. My heart sank sharply, an ominous premonition washing over me like ice water.
Tentatively, I called out, “Lin Wan?”
No response.
I reached out tremblingly, placing my hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake. “Lin Wan? Are you…”
Her body felt cold and unresponsive.
In that moment, my mind went blank with a loud ringing sound as if something had struck me hard. Panic surged through me as I hurriedly checked for her breath. I placed my fingers beneath her nose, waiting…
There was no sign of breath.
Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. I shakily reached for her wrist to find a pulse. Her skin felt like a stone that had been left out for too long—completely devoid of any warmth or heartbeat.
“No… it can’t be…” I murmured to myself.
I stumbled back two steps, my body colliding with the nearby desk with a dull thud. It felt as if I had awakened from a nightmare; in my panic, I fumbled for my phone. My fingers trembled uncontrollably as I misdialed several times before finally getting through to emergency services.
"Hello? Hello! Is this 120?" My voice trembled uncontrollably, laced with tears. "Please come quickly! My daughter... my daughter... she seems to be... not well."
I stammered out the address, feeling as if I might collapse at any moment.
The ambulance arrived swiftly. Medical personnel rushed into the room, beginning their examination and emergency procedures. I stood at the doorway like a puppet with its soul ripped away, watching them work frantically, listening to medical jargon I couldn't comprehend, praying for a miracle over and over in my mind.
But the miracle never came.
Eventually, the lead doctor removed his stethoscope and approached me, shaking his head gravely. "I'm sorry, sir. There are no vital signs. Based on the rigidity of the body and the temperature, it appears she has been deceased for over 24 hours."
No... vital signs...
Those words hit me like a heavy hammer, crushing my chest and making my vision blur as I nearly fainted.
Dead? My daughter... just like that? Over 24 hours? That means she had already... right under my nose...
The police were notified and arrived at the scene shortly after. They asked routine questions, and I answered numbly, my mind a jumbled mess. I couldn't understand—how could this happen so suddenly? Just a few days ago, she seemed fine, though perhaps a bit lacking in energy...
At that moment, a young officer discovered a stack of papers in her bedside drawer. He pulled them out and began to flip through them—hospital test reports and medical records.
My gaze fell on the diagnosis section, and my pupils constricted sharply.
"Ovarian Cancer Stage IV," with multiple metastases in the abdominal cavity.
Cancer? Late stage??
In an instant, all the details I had overlooked flashed through my mind like a movie replay: her unusually pale complexion, her noticeably emaciated body, her constant fatigue... I thought she was just stressed about work, throwing tantrums!
Just days ago, at the dinner table, she had cautiously asked me, "Dad, if... if one day I'm not here anymore, would you miss me?"
How did I respond? I frowned and impatiently told her to stop talking nonsense, scolding her for speaking such ominous words at her young age!
It turns out... it wasn't nonsense! It was...
An indescribable wave of regret and fear surged through me like icy venom, instantly freezing my limbs and leaving me feeling cold all over.
What have I done? What have I done?! My daughter bore this heavy illness alone in silence until the very end... And I—her father—didn't even know! Even when she tried to reveal something to me in her final moments...
My legs gave way; I could no longer support myself and collapsed heavily onto the cold floor, my hands painfully covering my face. The belated truth was too cruel, like a searing knife that carved into my heart, leaving it bleeding profusely.
It's over... everything is over...
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