'What is wrong with the staff at the hospital? How can they suddenly say he's in critical condition when just yesterday they told me he was recovering well? And an operation? How could they start an operation without any prior notice?'
Anxious thoughts flooded my mind as I stood at the edge of the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to change. Cars zoomed past me in different directions, leaving only noise behind. But none of it registered. My focus was on the phone gripped in my hand, fingers trembling slightly.
Then it rang and I hurriedly accepted the call.
"Yes, Doctor, I'm just across the street. How did the surgery go? Is he alright?" I asked, my voice brittle with urgency as I tried to walk as fast as I could.
There was a pause. A long, dreadful silence.
Then the voice on the other end spoke, low and laced with regret. "Sorry, Mr. Minghao there were some complications and we couldn't save..."
I couldn't hear the rest. My heart dropped. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees. I felt the rough asphalt, the grit scraping my palms, and the glare of headlights bearing down on me.
The world blurred—then everything turned to chaos as I was sent flying by the impact. I couldn't even scream before the darkness swallowed everything.
Then—headlights.
A sharp horn.
Too fast. Too close.
And then–
Impact.
Pain exploded through me, hot and searing, then vanished just as quickly as it came. No time to scream. No time to react.
Only darkness.
And as it swallowed me whole, my consciousness slowly fading away, one final thought echoed through the void of my mind, looping endlessly:
"Huh… he's gone? It's over? Just like that? Just like that?"
---
What I felt next wasn't pain.
It was nothing.
Or maybe too much of it. A dense, infinite stillness that pressed in from all sides. I couldn't feel my body anymore. No weight. No warmth. No light. No sound. Only stillness. And all sensations vanished as if it was just my soul left, completely naked, without a shell. In this endless void I felt calm, empty, almost serene in its indifference.
I wasn't falling. I wasn't rising. I just was.
No more racing heart. No more trembling hands.
No more me?
Maybe this is the afterlife, I thought. That strange space that came after the final goodbye. And yet, it didn't feel like the end. Not quite. It felt like sleep without dreaming, silence without a quiet. Time stretched like pulled thread, dissolving seconds into eternities.
Then, faintly, memories surfaced—uninvited but welcome, like stars appearing one by one in a night sky.
I remember the time when life was simpler—when my uncle would take me to watch movies and play in the arcade. He was loud and alittle clumsy but he loved me like his own. Yet, for all his love and kindness, I couldn't even save his life.
When he was diagnosed with renal failure during my second year of college, everything changed. I worked two, sometimes three jobs. I skipped meals, skipped classes, skipped sleep—anything to keep the lights on and the treatments coming. I saved up as much as I could. I told myself it was temporary. That one day, he'd get better and we'd laugh about the hard times.
And now— finally, after six long years of saving, he underwent a kidney transplant. He should have gotten better. Everything should have returned to some kind of normal. It was supposed to be the beginning of something new. A life not ruled by hospital visits and overdue bills. A life where we could breathe again. Live again.
But now he's gone.
And so am I.
I wanted to cry, but in this void, I had no tears to shed. No eyes to cry with. Just the ache in my soul.
Was it all in vain?..... I don't want to believe that.
A part of me believes– yes. That everything I'd sacrificed had evaporated in a cruel twist of fate. But I couldn't let that thought root itself. No—I refused to.
Through all those years, I stood by him. He knew he wasn't alone. He knew he was loved. That has to mean something, doesn't it? It has to.
Still… none of this feels real.
I just died, and yet I feel just as alive as before— at least, my consciousness does.
My parents died in a car accident when I was 5. Now, here I am— dead after a car accident at 26. It's almost poetic, like fate had written it long ago
It feels so unfair.
How can my life be over when I haven't even done anything? My aspirations, my dreams, my hopes— none of them came true. So how am I supposed to accept this ending?
Why did it end this way?
Then, piercing through the stillness, came a sudden and excruciating pain—sharp, like my soul was being torn apart. If I had a mouth, I would have screamed.
All I wanted was to scream. One last time.
But then—
Silence.
Blankness.
And finally, everything ended.