Chapter 17: The Impossible Choice
Tanoy couldn't speak.
The words echoed in his mind—
"To save your daughter… you must destroy another life."
No.
No, this couldn't be real.
"This is insane," Tanoy said, shaking his head.
"I'm not doing this."
The man didn't react.
"You said the same thing before," he replied calmly.
Tanoy's fists clenched.
"This is different!"
"Yes," the man agreed.
"It is."
Silence fell between them.
Heavy.
Unbearable.
Tanoy stepped back, running his hands through his hair.
"You're asking me to become a murderer," he said.
"I'm asking you to choose," the man corrected.
"There is no choice!" Tanoy shouted.
"This is evil!"
The man's gaze didn't waver.
"Is it?" he asked quietly.
Tanoy froze.
"What?"
"If one life can save another," the man continued,
"what would you call it?"
Tanoy's voice broke—
"I would call it wrong."
"Even if that life is your daughter's?"
Silence.
Tanoy's chest rose and fell violently.
Because this time—
The question cut deeper.
Far deeper.
"I won't do it," he said again.
But his voice—
Was weaker now.
Because doubt had entered.
The man stepped closer.
"Let me show you something," he said.
Before Tanoy could react—
His phone buzzed.
A video.
Unknown sender.
Tanoy's hands trembled as he opened it.
The screen lit up.
Hospital room.
His daughter.
Lying still.
Connected to machines.
The beeping sound—
Slower.
Weaker.
Tanoy's breath stopped.
"No…" he whispered.
A doctor's voice could be heard faintly—
"We're losing her…"
The video ended.
Tanoy's hands dropped.
His entire body felt numb.
"Time is running out," the man said quietly.
Tanoy looked up.
Desperation filled his eyes.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
The question came out broken.
Defeated.
The man didn't hesitate this time.
"There is a patient," he said.
"In the same hospital."
Tanoy's heart sank.
"A young man," the man continued.
"Brain dead. On life support."
Tanoy's breathing slowed.
"No…"
"If his support is removed," the man said,
"resources will be freed. Your daughter will get immediate access to treatment."
Tanoy shook his head.
"You're lying…"
"I'm not."
Silence.
"His family is not ready to let go," the man added.
"They're holding on to hope."
Tanoy felt sick.
"You want me to take that hope away," he whispered.
"I want you to save your daughter," the man replied.
Tanoy staggered back.
"This is not my decision to make…"
"But it is," the man said.
"Why me?!" Tanoy shouted.
"Why are you doing this to me?!"
For the first time—
The man's expression changed.
Pain.
Real.
"Because," he said softly,
"you understand what it means to lose."
Tanoy froze.
"What?"
"You saw my daughter," the man continued.
"You understood my pain."
Tanoy's mind flashed back—
Rupkotha.
That little girl.
The hospital.
The suffering.
"You wanted to save her," the man said.
Tanoy's voice trembled—
"Yes…"
"And yet you couldn't."
Silence.
"So now," the man said,
"you have a chance to save your own."
Tanoy's vision blurred.
"This isn't the same…"
"Isn't it?"
The question lingered.
Sharp.
Cruel.
Tanoy dropped to his knees.
"I can't…" he whispered.
His mind was breaking.
His heart—
Torn between two worlds.
One life.
For another.
A daughter.
For a stranger.
"Please…" Tanoy begged.
"There has to be another way…"
The man shook his head slowly.
"There isn't."
Tanoy looked up.
Tears streamed down his face.
"If I do this…" he said,
"I won't be able to live with myself."
The man's answer came without hesitation—
"But your daughter will."
That hit harder than anything.
Tanoy's breath collapsed.
Because it was true.
Painfully true.
Silence filled the room.
Then—
The man stepped forward.
And placed something in Tanoy's hand.
A keycard.
"ICU access," he said.
Tanoy stared at it.
This small piece of plastic—
Held the weight of two lives.
"One hour," the man added.
Tanoy's fingers tightened around the card.
His entire body shook.
"Choose," the man said.
And then—
He turned away.
Leaving Tanoy alone.
Alone with the decision.
Alone with the darkness.
Tanoy looked at the keycard again.
Then—
At the door.
And in that moment—
He realized something terrifying.
No matter what he chose—
He would lose.
Because this wasn't about right or wrong anymore.
It was about—
What kind of person he was willing to become.