My Parents Donated My Retina After I Died

After I died, my parents signed an organ donation consent form for me. They transplanted my retinas to their most cherished adopted daughter, Isabel.

Without me around, they finally became a real family.

I spent my whole life competing with Isabel, only to end up with nothing but a pitiful fate.

Given a second chance at life, I decided to live for myself. Unexpectedly, I stumbled into a happy ending.

1

I was reborn. I came back to the very day Isabel arrived at our house.

If I had returned just a little earlier, I might have prevented the death of Isabel's biological parents or threatened my own life to stop my parents from adopting her.

But now she was already here, and no amount of fussing could change that.

Isabel was the daughter of my father's important mentor, a renowned painter who had her late in life. They treated her like a precious gem from the moment she was born.

She showed exceptional talent in painting, but she suffered from a mysterious eye condition. Her vision came and went unpredictably, always teetering on the edge of blindness.

Her parents took her everywhere seeking treatment, but a tragic accident claimed both their lives, leaving young Isabel behind.

Isabel's childhood was bleak. The moment my parents laid eyes on her, they decided to treat her as their own. In fact, they seemed to care for her even more than they did for me, their biological daughter.

"Lexie, haven't you always wanted an older sister?" they asked. "From now on, Isabel is your real big sister. Aren't you happy?"

My parents looked at me with tender expectation, hoping I'd genuinely welcome this new sister.

At seven years old in my past life, I was thrilled. I thought I'd gained a warm new family member and was eager to share my love with this gentle-looking older sister.

I never imagined Isabel was a thief. She didn't want to share my love-she wanted to take it all for herself.

"Lexie, Dad knows you're a good girl," my father said. "Isabel's health isn't great. Even though you're the younger one, we need you to help us look after her. Can you do that?"

Before I could respond, tears welled up in Isabel's eyes.

"I know it's hard for Lexie to accept me," she said softly. "Who'd want to share their family's love with someone else? Don't worry, Lexie. I'll just go to an orphanage instead."

Sometimes I wondered if Isabel was reborn too. How could an eight-year-old girl be so cunning?

I hadn't even objected yet, and she'd already slapped a label of jealousy on me.

My mother wiped Isabel's tears with a pained expression.

"Don't cry, Isabel. It's bad for your eyes."

My father added. "Starting today, we're your mom and dad."

Isabel lifted her small, innocent face, tears glistening on her lashes. She looked overwhelmed with gratitude, a sight that would melt anyone's heart.

"Wahhh, I have a mom and dad now," she sobbed.

In an instant, the three of them huddled together, crying as one. No one bothered to ask my opinion anymore. Isabel had that kind of magic.

2

That night, my parents put me and Isabel in the same room. I lay there quietly, unable to sleep, my mind racing with plans to gain independence and leave this house as soon as possible.

After living through my past life, I understood one thing clearly. The moment Isabel barged into this family, my parents and my brother became hers alone.

Late at night, Isabel slipped out of bed. I squinted, pretending to sleep, and watched her tiptoe straight to my parents' room.

"Wahhh, Mom, Dad, it's so dark. My eyes hurt. I'm so scared," she whimpered.

My parents, blinded by sympathy, didn't stop to think. How could Isabel, in such an unfamiliar house, navigate to their room so easily if her eyes were acting up?

Instead, they just held her close, nearly in tears themselves. "Don't be afraid, Isabel. Mom and Dad are here," they soothed.

Isabel trembled as she burrowed into my mother's arms, looking shaken.

"Mom, Dad, can I really stay in this house?" she asked. "Just now, Lexie, she..."

My heart sank as I eavesdropped.

Before she could finish, my father stormed into my room. He yanked me out of bed, where I'd been feigning sleep.

"What did you say to Isabel? How can you be so thoughtless? She's frail and has had such a tough life. Can't you just let her have this?"

"Calm down," my mother said to him. "Lexie's still young. She'll learn with time."

Her words sounded like comfort, but she stayed glued to Isabel, not sparing a glance to shield me.

In the end, they took Isabel back to their room and shut the door, leaving me outside in my thin pajamas.

My mother used to check on me at night, tucking me in before leaving.

Now they seemed to forget I was only seven. I got scared of the dark and felt the cold too. I needed my parents' love just as much as anyone.

In my past life, Isabel pulled this trick often-faking an eye flare-up, then spinning lies to paint me as the villain when my saintly parents' sympathy peaked.

As a kid, I slowly sensed the danger. Ever since she arrived, I went from being their sweet little girl to a "bad kid" in their eyes.

So I started competing with Isabel secretly, matching her tit for tat. If she had something, I had to have it too.

Isabel was a master at playing the victim in public-gentle, timid, always yielding. My parents felt they owed her even more.

I fought Isabel my whole life and never won. Even my brother, who once adored me, fell under her spell.

The entire art world knew the Lyons family had a fragile, gifted adopted daughter named Isabel, and a rude, jealous, talentless daughter named Lexie.

In this life, I resolved not to fight her anymore. I wanted to live the life I truly desired.

3

The next morning, cheerful chatter between Isabel and my parents drifted from the dining room.

I walked downstairs silently and saw Isabel sitting in my spot, eating with my favorite dishes.

The happy mood shattered when they noticed me, as if I were the outsider crashing their family.

My mother's face flickered with awkwardness.

"Lexie, you're up early today. Isabel doesn't have her own dishes yet, so she's using yours. Can you use Brody's set instead?"

"I don't want to," I replied. "I'm not into taking other people's stuff."

Everyone caught the jab aimed at Isabel.

My father, still upset over me "bullying" her the night before, lost his usual warmth. His face darkened.

I glanced at the table-milk, sandwiches, and bacon eggs, all Isabel's favorites. I was lactose intolerant and usually had porridge for breakfast.

"Oh, I forgot you can't have milk," my mother said hastily. "I'll make you some soy juice in a bit."

With a loud smack, my father slammed his cup on the table. "Why so picky? You spoil her too much. She's getting out of hand at such a young age! We're taking Isabel to enroll in school soon. No time to waste!"

In my past life, those words would have crushed me. I'd have thrown a fit without caring. Now, I just felt numb.

I sat quietly at the table's edge and noticed Isabel smirk triumphantly as she ate. But when she looked up, her face shifted to sorrow.

"Dad, don't talk to Lexie like that," she said. "She's not like me. She grew up cherished and loved. It's natural she's a bit headstrong. It just shows how much you care for her."

My saintly parents teared up again, marveling at how angelic this girl was.

Compared to her, I, who had everything growing up yet acted so selfishly, seemed utterly immature.

Their gazes turned heavy with disappointment once more.

But I didn't care. In my past life, I nearly cut ties with them completely. Their opinions meant little to me now.

I could play nice with Isabel, act like a clueless, controllable little sister.

That way, I'd still be their "good girl" and scrape some leftover affection from what they showered on her.

But I'd make sure Isabel knew the family and love she schemed so hard for were worthless to me.

4

When the happy trio returned from enrolling Isabel in school, I had already moved my things out of my old room into the spare maid's quarters.

It wasn't about giving Isabel my space, it was about keeping some privacy for myself.

My father patted my head gently. "Lexie, you're so mature. You really are Dad's good girl."

A young kid might have beamed at that praise. But reborn, I heard the undertone. I only qualified as his "good girl" if I pitied Isabel like they did, sacrificing my own happiness for her sake.

Isabel barged into my old room to look around. When she saw the full set of art supplies my parents once bought me, her face paled. She collapsed weakly into my mother's arms, sobbing. "Wahhh, I wish I could paint carefree like Lexie."

My mother hesitated, then turned to me with a troubled look. "Sorry, Lexie. For Isabel's sake, could you put away your painting stuff for now?"

There it was again. Ever since Isabel showed up, my space kept shrinking until I didn't even deserve my own hobbies or dreams.

In my past life, it was the same. Isabel's eyes couldn't handle long painting sessions, so I had to cut back too.

As a painter's daughter, I couldn't buy art supplies freely or take classes, just because it'd upset Isabel.

Yet Isabel got to cuddle with my father, learning to paint hand-in-hand. Her works were framed with care, while mine gathered dust at the bottom of a box.

When we took the art university entrance exam, Isabel's vision failed mid-test. She swapped our names on the submissions.

When the results came out, I instantly recognized the top-scoring piece under her name as mine.

I begged my parents to intervene. They just held a sobbing Isabel and told me to be generous.

"You can retake it next year, Lexie," they said. "Isabel's running out of time. You know she could go blind any moment! She's had such a hard life. Just let her have this! You'll get in next year for sure!"

They made it sound easy. They didn't know how I, less gifted than Isabel, practiced in secret, drawing in the dark until my eyes nearly gave out.

I broke down and shouted, "She's stolen my parents, and that's not enough? Now she wants my life too? Give me back my spot, or I'm leaving this house forever!"

My defiance didn't spark remorse. It earned me a furious slap from my father. "If Isabel's eyes weren't sick, you think you'd beat her? You've got no talent for art. You'd just flunk out of art school anyway!"

I clutched my stinging cheek, unable to believe those words came from my own father.

In the end, Isabel took my place at art university.

I became the laughingstock of the art circle, beaten by a half-blind adopted sister.

My dream of art crumbled, and I drifted into a mediocre life.

Reborn, I lost all passion for painting. So, in front of my parents, I tossed that art set into the trash.

My father's face darkened instantly, but they knew they were in the wrong. They left with Isabel without a word.

5

When summer break rolled around, my brother Brody, who studied abroad, came home. Mostly, he wanted to meet the legendary new sister, Isabel.

Just like in my past life, he fell for her the moment they met.

She'd wrapped a cloth over her face, stumbling around the living room like a blind person, only to "accidentally" fall into Brody's arms.

Her cheeks flushed as she murmured, "I don't know when I'll go blind, so I'm trying to learn how to live in the dark. That way, I won't burden Mom, Dad, or you, Brody, in the future."

Isabel sure knew how to talk. She subtly edged me out while hinting to Brody that I didn't get along with her.

Young and impulsive, Brody was floored. This girl seemed straight out of a drama-delicate and pitiable. He vowed to himself to protect her forever.

My parents suggested a family day out to welcome Brody back.

I didn't want to go. Their cozy quartet had nothing to do with me, the selfish, jealous, unloved little daughter.

But Isabel had to stir the pot. She shrank into a corner, tears falling like pearls. "Mom, Dad, you should take Brody and Lexie instead. I'd just ruin your family reunion."

Brody panicked and wiped her tears gently. "Why would you say that? We're already a family."

Isabel dodged his touch, casting a timid glance my way as if silently accusing me.

Brody shot me a glare. "Lexie! Why are you picking on Isabel? What happened to you? You weren't like this before!"

What happened to me? They were the ones who changed. My once-thoughtful mother, my strict-but-kind father, my protective brother-they'd all become strangers.

I gave Brody a cold smile and met his eyes. "Why don't you ask Isabel how I bullied her? I even gave her my room. What more does she want?"

Isabel flinched under my question, avoiding my gaze.

Her scared act only fueled Brody's protective streak. He yelled at me, "It's that smug attitude of yours that hurts her! She's new here. You're supposed to give her some slack!"

Suddenly, I was the enemy to defeat, and Brody was her gallant prince.

My saintly parents took her side, as always. "Lexie, Brody's rarely home. Don't upset him. Apologize to him and Isabel."

I scanned this ridiculously biased family and replied firmly, "She can have whatever she wants, I don't care. But apologize? No way."

With that, I locked myself in my room, shutting out Brody's furious shouts.

They spent the day out as a happy foursome. No one called to check on me or brought me food.

In my past life, I'd have sulked, starved myself, or run away to guilt them.

Now, I knew it was pointless. It'd only hurt me more.

I cooked myself a hearty bowl of instant noodles and cracked open some study guides I'd secretly bought.

Since my rebirth, I'd thrown myself into self-improvement, never slacking off.

This time, I'd carve my own path by becoming a doctor.

6

At seven, I carried the intellect of my twenty-something self from my past life. In studies, I outshone Isabel by miles.

Her fragile, manipulative act worked on my saintly family, but not on teachers. A failing grade was a failing grade.

At semester's end, I topped my year. Isabel ranked near the bottom.

Whenever her poor scores got my parents called in, she'd cry about stress triggering her eye condition. Yet she refused to transfer to a special school.

Exam weeks turned our house into chaos because of her tantrums.

To spare Isabel's feelings and shield her from being judged as the adopted kid, my parents attended her parent-teacher meetings alongside mine, even when they overlapped.

They couldn't have missed how their favoritism got me mocked and bullied at school. Classmates called me the kid with parents but no love.

Each time they sacrificed me for Isabel, they trotted out the same tired excuse I'd heard a million times. "Isabel's sick and had a tough life. Just let her have this."

I didn't mind. Knowledge became my strength. I studied ahead in my spare time and, at twelve, skipped grades to become the youngest high schooler in our city's history.

My name spread far and wide. Everyone knew the Lyons family had a prodigy daughter.

My father's phone rang nonstop with calls from high society, wanting me to befriend their kids or even arrange engagements.

But to protect Isabel's feelings, he turned them all down. He never considered how those connections could've boosted my future.

Of course-how could I compare to his precious Isabel?

The day my acceptance letter arrived, the principal and reporters came to our house to deliver it. But they were greeted only by my parents' retreating figures.

Isabel wouldn't let me steal their attention. She faked a headache, and they rushed her to the hospital without even a nod to the principal.

Though I'd long given up on my saintly parents, that moment still stung with a flicker of hurt and helplessness.

The principal Julias gave me a deep look and said earnestly, "We don't have boarding students, but if you want to live on campus, apply early. I'll arrange it for you."

Her hand rested warmly on my head. It'd been ages since I felt care from an elder. Tears slipped out in front of her.

That tear brought me two truly important people in my life.

7

As school approached, I couldn't wait to leave this loveless home and move to campus.

The day I left, my parents were off at the hospital with Isabel again.

Brody was home for break but didn't lift a finger to help me pack.

He just watched me bustle about coldly and muttered, "Finally, some peace in this house."

I hauled my last bag into the taxi without sparing him a glance.

The room Julias arranged was amazing-a cozy studio converted from a spare teacher's dorm.

I spent a day cleaning it up and hit the bookstore for a stack of study guides. High school would be tougher. I had to work harder and outdo everyone.

On the first day, I wasn't surprised to face rejection from classmates.

Word got around that Julias gave me a dorm, and they pegged me as a privileged insider.

"Oh, look, the twelve-year-old genius is here," they sneered.

"Does the prodigy get scared living alone? Cry for Mommy at night?"

"Let her sit by the water cooler. She might need to mix baby formula between classes."

These smug kids shunned me because I outshone them.

Their taunts could've crushed a normal teen, but to reborn me, they were laughably childish.

I was small but tall for my age. I strode to the middle of the classroom and took a seat. But the snide remarks kept coming.

"Privileged kids sure are different. Gotta pick the center spot."

"Sitting next to her means the teacher's always watching. Who'd want that?"

The others scattered, leaving me alone in the middle.

I sat up straight, ignoring the jeers, and calmly opened a study guide.

Then someone pulled out the chair beside me and sat down.

A slender, graceful hand reached out. "Hi, you're Lexie, right? I'm Maverick. Mind if I sit with you?"

I sized him up discreetly. He had a clean-cut vibe-clearly the popular type.

"You sure?" I asked. "Sit with me, and they'll call you an insider too."

He grinned brightly and leaned in with a playful wink. "Haha, they wouldn't dare. I'm Julias's son."

I noticed then, his features did resemble Julias's. She must've guessed I'd struggle to fit in and asked Maverick to look out for me.

Warmth spread through me. Even if it was just for her sake, I'd get along with him.

After the first weekly exam, my top scores silenced every doubter.

Soon, some swallowed their pride to ask me for help. My high school life, once rocky, settled into something peaceful and smooth.

8

By the weekend, the sprawling campus felt empty, save for me.

I planned to study in the library, but Maverick knocked on my dorm door.

He and Julias knew I didn't go home and worried I'd feel lonely. They invited me to lunch.

Living with my family's bias and neglect made me treasure others' kindness all the more.

The warm principal and the witty, talkative Maverick gave me a taste of home I hadn't felt in ages.

Some people out there really did think of me and care.

From then on, I spent every weekend with Julias's family.

She said dedication to studying was great, but pushing too hard could backfire.

As for my own family, they seemed thrilled without me. Not one call came urging me to come home.

With Julias and Maverick, I gradually opened up, reclaiming some of the innocence and energy a kid my age should have.

Julias even looked at me fondly one day and said, "I've always wanted a daughter. I wish you were mine."

No one knew how much that hit me. In my past life, I'd overheard my father say to Isabel, "You've got real talent for painting. If only you were my real daughter."

The memory stung, and my eyes watered again.

Maverick flailed like a startled kid, wiping my tears with his sleeve. "It was just a joke! We're not kidnapping you. Don't cry!"

But Julias saw through to my real pain. She pressed me gently until I spilled the whole story about Isabel.

Maverick's jaw dropped. "Your parents ditched a star like you for that drama-queen adopted girl? Are they under a spell or something? She's got eye issues, not total blindness. Why does everyone have to cater to her?"

Julias tapped his head, warning him to watch his words.

Then she pulled me into a hug, stroking my back like a mother. "From now on, you're my goddaughter. If they don't want a kid this great, I do."

I sobbed into her arms. Maverick mumbled beside us, "If she's your daughter, doesn't that make us siblings?"

9

High school became the most carefree time of my life. I even stayed in the dorms over most of winter and summer breaks, using study as an excuse.

My parents were too busy to care. Rumor had it they were dragging Isabel to doctors and cramming her into tutoring sessions, letting the family business slide.

My allowance shrank, but I'd long achieved financial freedom. I didn't need them to live well.

Even as a kid, I had an eye for investing in artwork. In my past life, my father and Isabel convinced me it was shameful to taint art with money.

Meanwhile, they secretly sold off pieces I'd spotted, pocketing everything without a cent for me.

This time, I saw through them early and entrusted my investments to Julias, the one person I relied on.

Watching my savings grow brought me unprecedented peace. Having a skill to support myself was what mattered most.

That weekend, Julias and Maverick carved out time to take me on a park picnic.

She went to park the car while Maverick and I nabbed a spot on the grass.

I'd looked forward to the day, but my good mood vanished when I saw my family approaching.

Isabel clung to Brody's arm, my saintly parents trailing behind.

They spotted me, and their bright smiles faltered.

Isabel shrank behind Brody the moment she saw me, as if I'd devour her.

Her delicate act sparked his protective glare my way. "All that talk about studying, and it was a lie," he snapped.

Isabel noticed Maverick beside me and bit her lip, unwilling to lose the spotlight. "Lexie, are you on a date with your boyfriend? Mom and Dad were so worried, but you don't even come home for breaks. You lied to us. You've changed since high school..."

My parents gaped at me and Maverick in shock. "Lexie, you're so young, lying to us for some boy? Are you trying to kill us? When will you ever be good like Isabel?"

Each of them slapped a new accusation on me, not bothering to hear me out.

Even knowing how biased my family was, Maverick still looked stunned by their onslaught.