Stories

The doctors had decided to disconnect a woman who had been in a coma for three months. Her husband asked for a moment to say goodbye, leaned in close, and whispered something terrible in her ear.

The room was silent, broken only by the steady beeping of the machines and the dim glow of the nightlight. The woman had lain motionless for nearly three months.

Every day, her husband came to sit by her side. He held her hand, rested his head on the pillow next to hers, and whispered words of love. To everyone around, he seemed like the picture of devotion.

When the doctors told him there was no longer any hope, that her body was slowly failing and a decision had to be made, he broke down in tears. It was as if his soul was being torn apart. He begged them to let him have some time to say goodbye.

Inside the room, clutching her cold hand, he leaned over, kissed her gently on the forehead, and whispered something unexpected. He didn’t realize that someone was standing just outside the door, watching his every move.

His words were so soft, they seemed meant only for her:

“Now everything you own is mine. Goodbye, my love.”

Behind him, a plainclothes police officer listened. Weeks earlier, suspicions had arisen that the woman’s condition wasn’t caused by an accident.

Tests had revealed small amounts of poison in her blood—too little to kill outright, but enough to keep her trapped between life and death.

The police had decided to set a trap. The doctors informed the husband of her “inevitable end” and allowed for secret surveillance. That whispered confession, spoken in what he thought was privacy, became the key. He had incriminated himself.

When he walked out of the room, two uniformed officers were waiting. At first, he didn’t understand what was happening. But when he saw their cold stares, he tried desperately to explain. It was too late. Handcuffed, he was led away down the long hospital corridor.

Inside, she remained. The doctors knew that without the constant poisoning, her body might begin to fight back. And indeed, after a few days, the monitors showed the first signs of improvement.

The woman twitched her fingers, then slowly opened her eyes. The world greeted her with the gentle murmur of a nurse:
“It’s over. You’re safe now.”

She didn’t immediately understand what had happened. The truth came later. The man who had sworn his love, who had sat faithfully at her bedside, had in fact been killing her bit by bit all along.

And she was saved only because, in his moment of triumph, he couldn’t resist revealing his secret.

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