anitha_devi

In a quiet town where secrets fester behind smiles, Dr. Eliot seems like a beacon of hope — kind, brilliant, trusted. But kindness can be a blade sharper than any lie. As a series of tragedies ripple through his patients' lives, the lines between mercy and murder begin to blur.

How far would you go to ease someone's pain? And when does compassion become a crime?

The Kindness That Killed

Angela Morgan, forty-seven, stage four ovarian cancer, lay in her bed watching the sun creep in through the half-closed blinds. She wasn't in pain today, just tired. Too tired to eat. Too tired to cry.

But she smiled when Eliot walked in.

"You again," she rasped. "Didn't I tell you I'm not that fun to visit?"

"You said that yesterday," Eliot said, pulling up the chair beside her, "and I still came back."

He looked at her chart. Her vitals were stable. Barely. She was DNR. The chemo had stopped. She had maybe a week left—maybe less. And yet, unlike most, she wasn't afraid.

Sarcastic. Brave. Tired, but not bitter.

Angela gestured to the flower vase beside her. "Those are fake. You'd think dying people deserve at least real flowers."

He smiled at that. "Noted. Tulips next time?"

She turned to him then, more serious. "Dr. Wren… do you think I'll know when it's time?"

"I think… your body will," he said. "But your heart might fight it."

She looked relieved. "That's okay. I've fought most of my life. Doesn't seem fair to stop now."

He sat there longer than usual. Listening. Laughing quietly. Pretending, for a moment, that he was just a doctor and she was just a patient—not a soul hanging in the balance.

That night, after rounds, he stood in the hospital supply closet, staring at the vial in his palm.

He had it ready. The switch would be clean. Painless. She would simply fall asleep and never wake up.

But something about Angela made his hand freeze.

She wasn't afraid. She wasn't suffering—not yet. And she wasn't alone.

Eliot closed his eyes. Mara's voice echoed in his head.

He turned away, hand shaking, and dropped the vial back into his pocket.

For the first time in a long time, he spared someone.

The next day, he walked into Angela's room with fresh tulips in hand.

She smiled the moment she saw them.

He stayed longer that day. Told her a story about his sister—something he hadn't done in years.

But when he left the room, he didn't feel relief. He felt fear.

Because if he could spare Angela…

Then maybe he was losing the conviction that had guided him all this time.

And when conviction fades, what's left?

Chapter 5: The One He Couldn’t Let Go