It started with a message.
Simple. Random. Creepy.
"Would you say yes to change someone’s life today?"
Smaya stared at the screen of her cracked phone. It was 2:14 AM. She was lying on her bed in the dark, the fan creaking overhead, the walls of the hostel echoing silence. She had no idea who the message was from. No name. No profile picture. Just those eleven words.
She blinked. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She had nothing better to do. Loneliness had become a constant companion, and this strange message felt like a distraction.
She typed: "Yes."
One word. Sent. Gone.
She forgot about it by morning.
Until the doorbell rang at exactly 6:00 AM.
Two men stood outside. Dressed in black coats, expressionless faces, holding a folder stamped with a red symbol that looked like an hourglass.
"Smaya Banerjee?"
"Yes," she replied, surprised.
The taller man nodded. "You gave your consent. You're now part of Project Final Gift. You've been selected to donate your life to save five others."
Her breath hitched. "What is this? Some prank? Who are you?"
They handed her the folder. Inside were five profiles—pictures, medical reports, personal histories.
Her hands trembled.
Her father: Left when she was six, never called.
An ex-best friend: The one who leaked her secrets and turned her into a joke.
Her music teacher: Who once said in front of the class, "Talentless girls like you don’t deserve to dream."
A hostelmate: Who had bullied her quietly, locking her in the washroom overnight.
Her mother: Who had once attempted suicide, and blamed Smaya for it.
"These five people are all terminal. Each needs a transplant to survive. Your organs match all of them. You said yes, Smaya. You agreed."
"I didn’t agree to this!" she shouted.
"You said yes to changing a life. This is how."
She slammed the door. But her fingers couldn't stop flipping through the profiles. Every page hurt. Every photo dragged up years of pain. These were the people who had broken her. Yet now, fate was asking her to save them.
By 10 AM, she hadn’t eaten. By 2 PM, she was still staring at the folder.
At 6 PM, another message buzzed on her phone:
"You still have a choice. Back out, and we vanish. Continue, and you will die tonight."
She went to the mirror.
"Do I want to die?" she asked herself.
She had asked herself this before. At fifteen, crying in the bathroom. At seventeen, standing on a terrace ledge. At eighteen, feeling like the world had forgotten her.
But this was different.
This time, her death could mean life. Five lives.
Even if they didn’t deserve it. Even if they had once ruined her.
At 11:59 PM, she picked up the pen and signed the consent form.
"I’ll do it. Yes. I’ll die today."
The room went dark.
A projector lit up. A voice echoed from hidden speakers.
"Welcome to Phase Two."
The screen displayed every moment she had endured—childhood abandonment, bullying, failure, loneliness. Then… forgiveness.
The voice continued:
"You’ve passed the real test. This was never about your death. It was about your choice. Forgiveness is the final gift. You are now chosen to lead us."
The doors opened. The five people were standing there. Confused. Clueless. Not knowing what she had just done for them.
She walked past them, head high.
Years later, Smaya stood on a stage in front of thousands.
"I once said yes to a stranger. I thought I was saying yes to death. But that yes saved five lives. And more than anything… it brought me back to life."
She now led Project Final Gift—helping others on the edge of despair to say yes to forgiveness, not death.
One word had changed everything.
Yes — and that was the beginning of everything I never saw coming.
That single word, so simple and small, became the spark that ignited a fire in my soul. In a world where most people run away from pain, I walked into it — not to suffer, but to heal. That 'yes' wasn't about death; it was about transformation. It was about breaking the chains of my past and stepping into the unknown with courage. Each moment since that night has felt like a borrowed miracle — every breath, every step, every heartbeat.
I still think about that girl who typed 'yes' without knowing what would come next. She was broken, yes, but she was also brave. She was not weak for wanting to end it all — she was human. But more than that, she was ready for rebirth.
Because sometimes, the most powerful stories don’t begin with a once upon a time — they begin with a simple... Yes.
Author's Note:
I’m Smiksha Burnwal, and I wrote this story not just as a piece of fiction, but as a reflection of what many of us silently go through. We all have moments when we feel invisible, unloved, or broken. But what if, in those moments, we were just one word away from finding our strength again?
This story came from a place deep within — a part of me that has seen pain, rejection, and also quiet courage. Through "Yes, I’ll Die Today", I wanted to show that even the smallest decisions, even one tiny word, can change the course of our lives. Sometimes, the path to light begins in darkness.
If you’ve ever felt lost, I hope this story finds you. And I hope it reminds you that you are never alone.
Smiksha.
........THE END.........
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