CHAPTER ONE: THE NIGHT BLOOM
Hospitals are strange at night.
Not just quiet — unnaturally quiet. Like the silence is breathing around you, listening. The white lights overhead hum steadily, and everything smells like antiseptic and secrets. A place meant for healing, somehow always on the edge of haunting.
Dr. Ananya Mehra moved down the east wing corridor, arms crossed over her chest. The sleeves of her white coat were tugged down to her knuckles. It wasn’t the cold — not really. It was 2:07 a.m., and something about the hospital always shifted at this hour. The shadows stretched longer. The quiet changed shape.
She had just finished checking in on Mr. Sethi in Room 214 — post-op, diabetic, recovering faster than expected. He’d already asked for sweets. She smiled at the thought. Patients like him made the shift bearable.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked. Too loud. Even the scuffed rubber of her shoes couldn’t hide in the hush.
Her phone buzzed.
Veer: Still alive, Doctor?
She didn’t pause as she typed back.
Ananya: Barely. Your coffee tasted like disappointment.
Veer: You wound me.
Ananya: You'll survive. You're a Malhotra.
She smiled. The ritual was as routine as drawing blood. He always checked in at 2 a.m. Sharp. A strange comfort, that little thread of connection woven into their nights.
The staff room was just ahead. She was craving tea — or something hot. Something that didn’t taste like sterile air.
Then — a noise.
Soft. Barely audible. Like fabric brushing against a wall.
She stopped.
Turned.
Nothing. Just the corridor stretching out behind her, lined with closed doors and buzzing lights.
She stood still, listening.
Hospitals have sounds — beeps, wheels, distant voices. But this wasn’t that. This was the kind of sound that didn’t belong.
She shook it off. Probably a nurse doing a late round. Or her own tired brain firing shadows into corners.
She turned back toward the staff room — and stopped.
A figure.
At the far end of the hallway.
Still. Almost statue-like. Half in shadow, just outside the flicker of the emergency exit light.
A man?
Maybe. Slim frame. Wearing an oversized gray sweater.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Just watched.
Ananya’s breath caught.
She blinked.
Gone.
Just like that — empty hallway.
She stood frozen, unsure if what she’d seen had even been real.
Her pulse ticked upward. She turned on instinct — not toward the staff room now, but toward the archives room.
The door at the end of the corridor stood slightly ajar.
It was supposed to be locked after hours.
Every doctor knew that. Especially after... well, everything that had happened.
She approached slowly. Her fingers hovered near the handle. Cold metal met skin.
Click. Unlocked.
She hesitated.
Technically, she had no reason to go inside. No reason to push open a door that shouldn’t be open. But instincts aren’t bound by protocol.
She eased the door open just an inch.
Darkness.
The scent of dust, old paper, and time.
She didn’t step in. Just stood, still as the shadows inside.
Silence.
Not empty silence. Heavy silence. Like someone had just exhaled and slipped out of view.
Ananya’s spine prickled. Her fingers curled slightly.
Then she backed away. Slowly. Closed the door without a sound.
By the time she turned back toward the corridor, everything looked... normal.
The lights buzzed. The air smelled clean. The shadows were just shadows.
But her heart was beating harder now.
She didn’t understand why.
2:18 a.m. — Staff Break Room
She sat with a cup of vending machine tea in her hands. It wasn’t good. But it was warm, and that was enough for now.
The vending machine hummed behind her, dropping a snack into the tray. She didn’t flinch.
She stared at her phone. No new messages.
She considered calling Veer — just to hear his voice. But she didn’t. He’d ask questions. He always did. And she didn’t have answers tonight.
2:40 a.m. — Lab Floor
Aditya Menon adjusted his lanyard for the fourth time. It still sat too loose around his neck, flopping like a sad ID badge of anxiety. His first night shift. He already hated the smell of disinfectant. It clung to everything — clothes, skin, even the back of his tongue.
Across the counter, Ravi Sen didn’t look up.
“You’re late,” he said. Not cruelly. Just a fact.
Aditya exhaled. “Sorry. Got lost near radiology. Somehow ended up in maternity. It was... awkward.”
Ravi gave a tiny, sympathetic nod and went back to sorting blood samples with precise movements.
“Don’t worry. Everyone gets lost here,” he said. “The hospital was built in layers. East wing’s like a labyrinth.”
Aditya peeked into the centrifuge with interest. “So... uh, are the rumors true?”
Ravi paused. “Which ones?”
“You know... about the archives? About the doctor who—”
The door opened.
Both turned.
Dr. Veer Malhotra entered. Coffee in hand. Crisp coat. Shoes that never squeaked.
“Gentlemen,” he said smoothly, with the warmth of someone used to being obeyed. “Bonding already?”
Ravi lowered his eyes. “Just explaining the layout.”
Veer’s gaze lingered on Aditya for a second too long — not hostile, not quite friendly either. Just watching.
“Welcome to the graveyard shift, Aditya,” he said. “You’ll find it... enlightening.”
Aditya smiled nervously. “Thanks, sir.”
Veer’s smile stayed in place, eyes still on him.
“The building has a memory,” he added, tone softer now. “It watches.”
Then he turned and walked out. The scent of antiseptic and something faintly floral followed him.
Lavender.
2:57 a.m. — Diagnostic Wing
Ravi was running routine scans. Aditya had wandered off again — supposed to be delivering charts to logistics, but curiosity pulled stronger than duty.
He moved through the quieter corridors until he reached the east wing.
It felt... different here. Older. Colder.
He stopped.
Voices.
Two of them.
Low. Urgent. Behind a partially open door.
The records room.
He stepped closer.
"...she said she was leaving. She can’t leave," said one voice. Calm, but dangerous. Not raised. Not angry. Worse — controlled. Like a scalpel.
Then — a sound. A gasp. A struggle?
Aditya moved closer, just enough to lean near the door—
Creak.
The door shifted under his hand.
Silence.
Footsteps.
Approaching.
Fast.
Aditya backed up. Tripped. Hit a mop bucket left in the hall. The clang was deafening.
A voice followed.
“Hello?” Smooth. Familiar. Friendly.
And cold.
Veer.
Aditya didn’t wait.
He ran.
4:15 a.m. — Stairwell Landing
They found him slumped near the landing.
Unconscious.
No witnesses.
Head injury. Blood pooling slowly beneath him. Cardiac arrest.
“Must’ve slipped,” someone whispered. “Terrible accident.”
Dr. Veer Malhotra arrived at the scene moments later. Arms crossed. Eyes lowered. Face calm.
Ravi stood near the edge, pale and silent.
He stared at Aditya’s hand — clenched tight around a piece of torn synthetic fabric.
Then his eyes drifted to Veer’s shoes.
Untouched.
Perfectly clean.
Later That Morning — Break Room
The sky outside turned the color of faded bruises — ash and pink. A new day.
Ravi sat alone, staring at the vending machine.
His tea trembled slightly in his hand.
He wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was the cold. Or the exhaustion.
Or the glimpse he thought he’d caught in the machine’s metal reflection — just for a moment.
Ananya’s kitchen.
Warm yellow light. Cabinets open.
And then—
Blood on tile.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
