The cold, white light of the hospital corridor cast long shadows on the sterile floor. Machines beeped in rhythmic tones while nurses moved quietly, their rubber-soled shoes barely making a sound. In Room 207, a low hum of discussion echoed as Akhil stood beside a doctor reviewing a series of scans displayed on a lightboard.
The doctor, in his mid-forties, adjusted his glasses and turned toward Akhil with a calm but serious expression. "There's no physical trauma. No head injury. His vitals are stable now. But given the symptoms… breathlessness, loss of consciousness, disorientation—this looks like a severe panic attack."
Akhil frowned, arms crossed, visibly worried. "But he's never had this before. He's always been the strong one—logical, composed. This… this doesn't feel like him."
The doctor nodded. "That's exactly why we recommend he talk to a therapist. Something is disturbing him deeply. Emotional fatigue can build up quietly. Especially for someone who doesn't share much."
Akhil sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket. He hesitated before dialing Unnati's number. It rang once… twice… and then went to voicemail. He checked the time—it was almost 2:30 a.m.
Too late.
Still, he muttered, "She should know," and left a message, "Unnati, it's Akhil. Sid's in the hospital. He's okay now, but… he collapsed at Marine Drive. I'm with him. Call me back when you can."
Before he could do more, a nurse approached them. "The patient is awake. He's asking for someone—a girl."
Akhil and the doctor exchanged a confused glance before following the nurse into the room.
Sid was sitting up slightly, his eyes heavy but flickering with restless urgency. His voice was barely above a whisper, cracked and dry. "Where is she?"
Akhil stepped forward. "Sid—hey, you're okay. You're safe now. What are you talking about?"
Sid's eyes were wild, full of longing and disbelief. "She… she was there. She held me. She—she stopped me from hitting the rock. I saw her, Akhil. You always said I was imagining things. What about now?"
The doctor leaned in. "Sidharth, may I ask who you're referring to?"
But Sid wasn't listening to him. He turned to Akhil again, desperation tightening his words. "Didn't you see her? She was there, Akhil. Please tell me you saw her…"
Akhil's heart twisted. He hated seeing his friend like this—so out of his element, so vulnerable. He placed a gentle hand on Sid's shoulder. "Buddy, there was no girl when I reached. Just an old man. He said he found you lying unconscious. He was helping you when I got there."
Sid blinked, stunned. "Where is he now?"
"He helped me carry you to the car. Stayed till the ambulance came. Said his name was Mr. Kumar or something. Then he left."
"No…" Sid muttered, sinking back into the pillow, frustration flooding his chest. "She was real, Akhil. I'm not losing my mind. I felt her. She said something. She gave me water. I saw her eyes…"
The doctor interrupted gently. "Sid, right now your mind might be playing tricks. We need to run a few more tests—"
"No," Sid interrupted, voice firmer this time. "This isn't a trick. This isn't a dream."
He looked to Akhil, his expression determined. "You need to believe me."
"I do," Akhil said softly, though his voice carried the hesitation of someone walking on the edge of two realities. "But right now, you need rest."
Sid tried to push himself up, but the doctor pressed him back. "You really shouldn't move yet. One step at a time."
Eventually, Akhil helped him recline. Sid's breathing evened out, though his gaze never left the ceiling, his thoughts spiraling like a maze.
Akhil sat on the chair next to him, watching his friend drift into silence again. For a while, nothing moved. Even the beeping of the heart monitor felt like part of the silence.
Sometime later, with Akhil fast asleep in the chair, Sid reached for his phone resting on the bedside table. The screen lit up as he opened his messages and began typing a short but weighty note to Sudarshan.
"Something happened. She was there. You were right—this is more than I thought. I'm ready. Tell me where to start."
He sent it and slowly reached toward the small hospital bag the nurse had placed near the table. His heart raced as he checked for the pendrive and documents Sudarshan had handed him earlier that day.
They were still there.
Wrapped in a plain envelope with no label, the pendrive held secrets yet to be revealed. The files—some pages typed, others handwritten—felt like pages from a forbidden manuscript.
Sid held the pendrive tightly, as though it were a compass guiding him toward something far greater than his own understanding.
"Who are you?" he whispered to himself, staring at the ceiling again, but his mind conjured not the mysterious documents, not Sudarshan's cryptic words…
…but her.
The softness in her eyes.
The way her voice—though muffled—still carried a strange comfort.
And the weightless feeling that came over him just before he fell unconscious, as if being near her dissolved the walls around his soul.
He wanted answers—but more than that, he wanted to see her again.
.....................................
The filtered morning light poured into the room, casting a soft golden hue on the pale blue walls. Sid slowly opened his eyes. The ceiling fan spun lazily above him, and the beeping machines beside the hospital bed hummed steadily. He blinked a few times to adjust his sight, the events of the night slowly returning to him in disjointed fragments—the tears, the panic, the mysterious girl… her voice… the warmth of her lap… and then darkness.
Sid turned his head slightly. The chair beside his bed, where Akhil had sat the entire night, was now empty.
Only a nurse stood there, checking the chart hanging at the foot of his bed.
"Excuse me," Sid croaked, his voice hoarse from the dryness in his throat. "The guy who was here last night... where is he?"
The nurse turned to him with a kind smile. "He left early, sir. Said he had to finish some errands. But he told me to let you rest and not to worry."
Sid nodded slowly, feeling an ache in his chest—not physical, but something deeper, a residue of the heaviness he felt the night before.
He reached for the side table and grabbed his phone. His fingers trembled slightly, not just from the remnants of his panic attack but also from the emotional storm still brewing within him.
There were unread messages from Unnati and Akhil, but he didn't open them yet. Instead, he opened his contacts and dialed Mr. Mehta.
The phone rang only once before it was picked up.
"Sid," Mehta's voice came through, firm yet familiar, like an elder brother who knew when to command and when to comfort.
"Sir... I wanted to let you know I might need a day or two. I—"
But Mehta interrupted him gently. "Take a week off, Sid. No questions. Just breathe. I've already spoken to the team. Your desk will be waiting for you when you come back."
Sid was silent for a moment, stunned by the clarity in Mehta's voice. No explanation needed. No judgment.
"You knew something was wrong?" Sid asked quietly.
"I've known you for years now, Sid. I've seen you on your best days, your worst ones too. You don't hide things well, no matter how much you try. Just take this time. Do whatever you need to. We'll hold the fort here."
Sid closed his eyes for a moment, gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.
"Call me if you need anything. And Sid…"
"Yes?"
"Whatever it is... don't run from it. Face it."
The line disconnected.
Sid sat up slowly, pushing the thin blanket off him. The faint soreness in his body reminded him of the tension from the night before. But more than the physical fatigue, there was a buzz of thoughts, images, and voices swirling in his mind—especially hers.
That half-seen face. Those hauntingly familiar eyes. The sound of the sea blending with the rustle of her voice.
He needed answers.
He looked around the room. On the small couch to the side, his bag lay untouched, the files and pendrive inside still exactly where he had placed them after meeting Sudarshan.
Sid pulled it toward him and unzipped the compartment carefully. He took out the pendrive and stared at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket.
Then he scrolled through his messages and opened the one from Sudarshan—there was a cryptic note from the old man sent earlier that morning:
"The closer you get to the stars, the more your feet must stay rooted. Be cautious. Meet me once you're ready."
Sid locked his phone and leaned back.
His heartbeat was steady now, but something inside him told him that steadiness wouldn't last long. Whatever was unfolding around him—it wasn't ordinary. The girl, the voice, the panic, the flash of pain and that strange vision of him in the woods, reaching out before being struck—all of it was more than just stress or fatigue.
Something ancient, something buried... was waking up.
And he wasn't sure whether he was ready to face it yet.