“Such a devoted daughter never got any love, yet that heartless son did. Favoring sons like this, no wonder she ended up paralyzed!”

In the end, Hayden still refused to help.

My daughter spent over an hour cleaning me up, sweating all over as she carefully changed my clothes and settled me into the wheelchair.

“Mom, you must be hungry. I’ll make you something to eat.”

From exhaustion, she nearly fainted when she stood. Still, after resting only a few seconds, she forced herself to walk into the kitchen.

Soon, she brought out steamed fish, braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, and a pot of hot chicken soup. She placed everything in front of me, scooped a spoonful of soup, gently blew on it, and held it to my lips.

“Mom, I went to the countryside this morning to buy a fresh chicken and stewed it for you. It’s your favorite. Try some.”

I turned my head away and said coldly, “I don’t want to eat.”

Her eyes were full of worry. “Mom, you already had diarrhea. If you don’t eat something to regain your strength, your body won’t hold on.”

I looked at her, my tone still cold. “I don’t feel like eating.”

My eyes shifted to Hayden, lying on the sofa with his phone in his hand. I spoke softly, trying to stay calm. “Hayden, Mom wants that cake on the table.”

Without lifting his head, he said impatiently, “That’s mine. If you want one, use your wheelchair and go buy it yourself.”

My daughter looked at him and said gently to me, “Mom, please eat first. After dinner, I’ll go buy you some cake, okay?”

I turned my head away and said nothing, refusing to touch the food she made.

Seeing this, the live-stream chat went wild.

[Is this old woman out of her mind? She refused her daughter’s cooking but asked for her son’s cake?]

[I thought she was just biased, but this is pathetic. Her son treats her horribly, and she’s still clinging to him?]

[That poor daughter, she worked so hard to cook all that food, yet her mom won’t even taste it.]

[This is disgusting. The more I watch, the more I think this mother is awful.]

When the first day of the live stream ended, the comments were filled with insults aimed at me.

The next day, my daughter came home from work earlier than usual. In her hands was a small paper box. Inside was a slice of strawberry cream cake.

“Mom, you said you wanted cake yesterday. I bought one after work, your favorite strawberry flavor. Please have some.”

She held the cake out to me, her eyes filled with fragile hope. I looked at it and said flatly, “I don’t want it now.”

A hint of sadness crossed her face as disappointment sank in, but she forced a small smile and asked, “Then what would you like to eat? I’ll make it for you.”

I gave her a cold look and replied, “I don’t want to eat anything you make.”

I turned my wheelchair and moved toward the balcony for some air. Just as I was leaving the room, I ran into Hayden, who was playing on his phone. The bump made his phone fall to the floor, and he immediately exploded in anger.

“Damn it! I was in the middle of an important match! Because of you, I lost! That was my promotion round!”

He grabbed his phone and kicked my wheelchair hard, making it jolt violently and tilt to one side.

“Mom!”

My daughter shouted as she rushed over, throwing herself in front of me to stop the chair from falling. Her hand scraped against the metal frame, tearing open a deep cut, blood running down her arm.

She didn’t even flinch from the pain. After getting me upright again, her face went pale from fright as she yelled at Hayden.

“Hayden, you almost hurt Mom!”

My son glared at me.

“She’s paralyzed. She can’t even feel pain, so what are you so worked up about?”

“So annoying. I lost our qualifying match again!”

He muttered a curse under his breath and stomped back to his room, eager to get back to his game.

My daughter, still shaken, checked me carefully from head to toe to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

Only after confirming I was fine did she turn her attention to the wheelchair, ignoring the blood dripping from her own hand.

When she noticed a clasp had come loose, she immediately brought out the toolbox. She tightened every bolt and screw, working until late at night.

Meanwhile, the live-stream comments were full of outrage.

[I can’t stop crying. Where can you find such a good daughter? Her hand is bleeding badly, yet she only worries about her mom.]

[The real question is, how can someone so kind have such a cold and unfair mother?]

[Exactly! How could her heart be so hard? Her daughter gives her everything, and she still treats her like this!]

[No wonder they say pitiful people can be hateful too. A mother this blindly biased, no surprise she ended up paralyzed!]

[This is unbearable. Girl, run! A mom and brother like that aren’t worth it!]

The live stream was flooded with insults. Even the reporter called me.

“This is the three-day secret live stream you asked for? Do you know how much people have been cursing you these past two days?”

“Your daughter has done everything for you. Are you trying to make people hate you on purpose?”

I looked toward my daughter in the living room, quietly tending to the wound on her hand, and said calmly, “There’s still one more day.”

“By then, you’ll understand everything.”

The next morning, my daughter came into my room right after waking up. “Mom, how are you feeling today? Do you have a better appetite?”

Her voice was soft as she checked my condition.

I stayed silent, my eyes falling on her hand wrapped in gauze, where faint blood still showed through.

Even without my reply, she continued as she always did, massaging my limbs and moving my joints to keep them from stiffening. Her every touch was gentle, as if I were something fragile.

“Mom, look, the weather’s nice today.”

“After breakfast, let me take you out for a walk. The doctor said getting some fresh air will help your recovery.”

She glanced out the window, trying to find something cheerful to say.

But I stayed cold. “I don’t want to.”

Her hands paused for a second, then she said nothing. After finishing the massage, she brought warm water to gently wipe my face and clean my hands before heading to the kitchen to cook.

The live-stream comments kept coming nonstop.

[This old woman still has that blank look; just seeing her annoys me.]

[Right. Her daughter’s hand is still bleeding, yet she’s still serving her, and the mother doesn’t even care?]

[So awful. Some people don’t deserve kindness!]

That day, my daughter didn’t go to work. She said she wanted to stay and spend the whole day with me.

After finishing all the chores, she pushed me out to the balcony to sit in the sunlight.

She combed my hair, trimmed my nails, and carefully cleaned my ears. She wanted me to look clean and tidy from head to toe.

When she was done, she sat on a small stool beside me, held my thin hand gently, and spoke in a soft voice, “Mom, do you remember? When I was little, you always brought Hayden and me out here to the balcony to sunbathe.”

“The year Dad passed away, you handled everything by yourself and raised both of us. No matter how hard life got, you never cried in front of us.”

“You always said that as long as Hayden and I were around, you would never fall.”

Her eyes grew slightly red as she spoke. Just then, her phone rang, but she didn’t pick up. She looked at me for a long moment, then ended the call.

Smiling, she stared at me and said, “Mom, it’s about time.”

I gave a faint smile. The moment had finally come.

After saying that, my daughter straightened and gave me a meaningful look. Then she did something no one in the live stream could have imagined.