The moment the surgery failed, my world fractured. That old woman wasn't just a patient. In a life devoid of real family, she had shown me what a mother's love felt like. My patients were my siblings, my friends, my parents. And I had failed one. I had failed as a doctor.
I fled to my mother's house, needing to be alone with my grief. But as I sat there, I felt a gentle, comforting hand in my hair. I looked up, thinking it was my mother, but the room was empty. I dismissed it. Later, during the argument, I sensed a presence behind me again. I glanced back and saw the faint, shimmering outline of a young woman with short hair. My mother saw nothing.
Not wanting to argue further, I left. The girl, this shimmering ghost, got into the car with me.The longer we spent at the hospital, the clearer she became. She was beautiful. An angel, perhaps, or a ghost. No one else noticed her. She seemed fixated on me, listening to the gossip I ignored, following my every move.
When I visited my patients, I heard a soft sound and saw her in the corner, crying silently. I thought she felt sorry for them, but how could a non-human entity feel such empathy? They must see suffering all the time. Then it clicked. She must be new. A new Grim Reaper. She was sad because she was here to take me away from my patients.
A strange mix of relief and sorrow filled me. I was ready to die, but I was sad for those I would leave behind. I decided I would ask her for more time—enough time to find the best possible cardiologist to take my place.
When we arrived at my new house, I didn't expect her to follow me in, but she did. So, I decided to speak to her. Her slow, shocked response only confirmed my theory. She truly was a Reaper.