Sixteen hours after the grueling operation, the doctor, pale and visibly drained, pushed open the doors of the operating room. His steps were slow and heavy, like every movement took a great deal of effort. His face was etched with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes telling the tale of a sleepless night filled with pressure and the weight of an unspoken responsibility.
Despite his weariness, he didn't pause to rest. There was no relief in finishing this particular surgery no sense of accomplishment or success. Instead, a hollow emptiness gnawed at him, a mixture of guilt and confusion. The operation had been successful, but it felt more like a moral failure. Lucian was gone. His heart, however, beat on, now nestled in the chest of another.
The doctor walked through the hospital corridor, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering slightly, casting a sterile glow on the polished floor beneath him. The soft hum of machines and distant conversations faded into the background as he entered the elevator. His destination wasn't a place of celebration or recovery, but the cold, quiet underground morgue where the dead waited in silence.
As the elevator descended, the doctor's hand gripped the railing tightly. His thoughts raced, replaying the moments leading up to the operation. Lucian's calm, unwavering resolve. His terrifying finality. The doctor had been forced to comply Lucian had made sure of it. The memory of Lucian pointing a gun at him flashed across his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. The young man's eyes had been filled with such unshakable conviction, not madness, but something even more unsettling complete and utter peace with his choice.
The elevator dinged, breaking the doctor's reverie, and the doors slid open. He stepped out into the stark basement hall, his footsteps echoing faintly in the long, dimly lit corridor. The morgue was at the end of the hall, a place where the dead were stored until they were claimed or buried, a room that now held the body of the young man who had given his life for a love that would never return.
A nurse sat at the desk by the morgue's entrance, her eyes barely lifting from her clipboard as the doctor approached. She recognized him immediately and silently stepped aside, granting him entry without a word. She didn't need to ask why he was there. She had seen the tired, haunted look in his eyes before.
The doctor opened the door to the morgue, the chill of the room hitting him instantly, sending a cold wave down his spine. Inside, rows of steel drawers lined the walls, each one containing someone's final chapter. The metallic scent of the place mingled with the cold air, making the doctor's breath catch for a moment.
He walked over to the register, his hands trembling slightly as he flipped through the pages. He found the number he was looking for Lucian's body. The stark finality of it hit him like a blow to the chest. Lucian Kane was no more. The boy who had once walked, breathed, loved, and suffered was now just a name on a piece of paper, a corpse waiting for burial.
His feet dragged as he made his way to Lucian's bed. The body lay on the cold metal slab, covered by a white cloth. The doctor hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the cloth, before finally pulling it back.
Lucian's face was still and peaceful, his lips faintly curved into a sad smile, as if he had died with the weight of a bittersweet secret on his heart. His skin, once warm and full of life, was now pale, cold to the touch. His chest no longer rose with the rhythm of breath, but beneath his serene expression, there was something haunting. It was as if, even in death, Lucian was still wrestling with the ghosts of his past.
The doctor's throat tightened as he stood over the body. He didn't know why he had come, why he felt compelled to see the young man one last time. After everything Lucian had put him through after the threats, the coercion, the gun to his head the doctor should have felt nothing but relief that it was over. And yet… something deeper stirred in his chest, a strange feeling that he couldn't quite place.
"Sigh… I don't know what to say," the doctor murmured, his voice breaking the oppressive silence of the room. He stared down at Lucian's still form, his heart heavy with unspoken words. "You threatened me. Forced me into this… you even pointed a gun at my head. You made me do something I would never have agreed to, something I still don't know if I'll ever come to terms with."
He paused, his eyes scanning Lucian's lifeless face. The man before him no longer breathed, but the weight of his presence lingered, almost tangible.
"But looking at you now…" the doctor continued, his voice quieter, softer. "I don't hate you. I don't even fear you anymore. I don't know what I feel. Maybe I'm impressed. Maybe I'm disappointed. Maybe… I'm just sad. Sad because you were so young. Sad because you gave your life for something that… in the end, probably wasn't worth it."
The doctor stood in silence for a few moments, staring down at Lucian's peaceful face, as though searching for answers that could never come. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and sorrow battling within him. "What have you got now, boy? You gave your life for nothing. I hope you know that."
He sighed again, his voice thick with emotion. "But… I came to tell you something. She's alive. Avey. She's alive, and she's doing well. Most importantly, she's living… with your heart now." The doctor's voice cracked as he spoke those last words. He couldn't shake the image of Lucian's heart, beating in another's chest, keeping someone else alive while the man who had owned it lay cold and dead.
"I wonder if you're watching this from heaven… or hell," the doctor said, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know where you ended up, but… I can imagine you grinning, wherever you are. Even though I didn't know you for long, I feel like I understand you a little now."
He swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to surface. "I just came here to tell you that. And to let you know… we'll inform your family about your death now. They'll know soon enough."
The doctor turned, his hand lingering on the metal table for a moment before he forced himself to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when something pulled him back something he couldn't quite explain. He hesitated, then slowly walked back to Lucian's body.
"I don't know why I came back," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling slightly. "But… have a good journey, my boy. You were… really pure-hearted, you know that? Despite everything, despite all the madness, you had a good heart. I don't know why I'm feeling this way about you, but… maybe it's because I saw how much you believed in what you were doing. Even if it was crazy. Even if it was tragic."
The doctor gently placed the white cloth back over Lucian's face, covering it once more. The room seemed even quieter now, the stillness almost suffocating. He stood there for a moment longer, his hand lingering over the covered form before finally pulling away.
"Rest in peace, Lucian," he whispered. "I hope you find the peace you were looking for."
With that, the doctor turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The sterile, cold hallway greeted him again, but he didn't feel any lighter. The burden of what had happened still weighed heavily on his shoulders, and as he walked toward the elevator, he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a small slip of paper.
Lucian's last request.
The doctor pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, unfolding it carefully. On it, Lucian had scribbled a phone number. The doctor stared at it for a long moment, feeling the weight of what he was about to do settle in his chest.
"Let me honor your last wish, boy," the doctor muttered to himself, his voice low and strained. He took out his phone, his hands shaking slightly as he dialed the number written on the paper. His heart pounded in his chest as he held the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.
The line rang once… twice… three times.
Finally, there was a click, and a voice came through on the other end.