The consultation room remained silent long after the woman left.
Nobody seemed capable of speaking. Even the nurses standing outside the door looked uncomfortable after witnessing the scene unfold. The sound of the closing door still lingered in the quiet space, along with the haunting image of the woman walking away with tears streaming down her face.
Arora remained seated, her fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of her chair as she replayed every single detail in her mind.
The woman's voice.
Her expression.
The desperate, shattered way she had looked at Kelvin.
None of it felt fake.
That was the problem.
Arora had spent years dealing with liars, extortionists, and sociopaths. She knew how desperation looked. She knew how manipulation sounded. She had interrogated enough people to recognize when someone was putting on a performance.
But the woman who had just walked out of the room didn't feel like an actress. She felt hurt. Genuinely, deeply hurt.
Across the room, Kelvin stood near the window, staring blankly at the city lights beyond the rain-slicked glass. He hadn't spoken a single word since she left.
That bothered Arora more than she cared to admit.
"Leader?" Miso's voice broke softly through her thoughts.
Arora lifted her head slightly. "Follow her."
Miso blinked once. "The pregnant woman?"
"Yes." Her answer came without a second of hesitation. "I want to know where she goes, who she meets, and whether she's telling the truth. Don't approach her. Don't let her notice you. Just watch."
Miso nodded immediately. "Understood."
Within moments, she slipped out through the door, vanishing into the corridor.
Only then did Arora shift her full attention back toward her brother. For a long while, she simply watched him. The heavy silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Finally, she spoke. "Do you know her?"
Kelvin let out a tired laugh. It wasn't amused; it sounded completely exhausted. "No."
The answer came immediately—too quickly to be a rehearsed lie. Yet something about it felt incomplete.
Arora narrowed her eyes. "Then why do you look like someone just ripped your heart out?"
For the first time that night, Kelvin looked away. His shoulders tensed, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. Suddenly, he looked far less like a confident doctor and far more like a man struggling to comprehend his own mind.
"I don't know," the words came quietly, almost reluctantly. "When she started crying..."
He paused, his brow furrowing deeply as though he were searching for an answer hidden somewhere in the dark corners of his memory.
"Watching her cry hurt."
Arora remained completely silent, letting him speak.
Kelvin laughed bitterly again. "The stupid part is that I don't even know why. I've never seen her before. At least... I don't think I have."
Those words caught Arora's attention instantly. Her eyes sharpened. "What does that mean?"
Kelvin rubbed his forehead, pressing his palm against his temple. "It means she feels familiar. Her voice felt familiar. The way she looked at me felt familiar." He swallowed hard. "And when she left... it felt like I was losing something important."
Arora stared at him. Something about those words sent a cold chill straight down her spine. Because Kelvin wasn't lying. He wasn't confused because he had been caught in a secret; he was confused because he genuinely didn't understand what was happening to his own mind.
And somehow, that was far more frightening.
Arora left the consultation room shortly afterward. The conversation with Kelvin had only created more questions. Every answer seemed to lead toward another mystery, another contradiction she couldn't explain. The logical part of her mind wanted evidence, facts, and concrete records to analyze. Instead, she was left with raw emotions, gut instincts, and a growing dread that she was walking straight into something massive.
The hospital corridors had grown quieter as the night deepened. Most visitors had gone home, leaving only the night shift staff and the occasional patient moving through the hallways. The bright white fluorescent lights reflected off the polished floors, making the building feel unnaturally hollow.
As Arora walked past the main reception area, something caught her attention.
Jennie. The nurse.
She was moving quickly down the restricted corridor. Too quickly.
Most people would have overlooked it, but Arora was trained to notice the smallest details. Jennie wasn't walking with the relaxed, professional confidence she usually carried. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if checking whether someone was tailing her, and her grip on her phone was white-knuckling tight.
Suspicion immediately stirred.
Arora slowed her pace, blending into the shadows, and followed. She kept a safe distance—far enough that Jennie wouldn't spot her, but close enough that she wouldn't lose sight of her turn.
Jennie eventually turned into a restricted maintenance section of the hospital and stopped in front of an unused storage room. She looked around one final time before slipping inside. The heavy door clicked shut behind her.
Arora frowned. A nurse sneaking into an abandoned storage room in the middle of the night was suspicious enough on its own. Combined with everything else that had happened today, it was impossible to ignore.
She approached silently, stepping up to the door. At first, she heard nothing.
Then, a hushed voice. Jennie's voice.
"...she's here." The words were barely above a whisper.
Arora instinctively leaned closer to the frame.
A second voice answered through the phone's speaker—female, calm, and controlled. The kind of voice that carried absolute authority without ever needing to raise its volume.
"Who?"
Jennie hesitated before answering. "Arora."
Silence followed. A long, suffocating silence. Long enough that even Arora found herself holding her breath.
Then the woman on the phone spoke again. "What did you just say?"
"Arora," Jennie's voice shook slightly. "She's here."
The shift on the other end was immediate. The calm control vanished. "Leave."
Jennie blinked, startled. "What?"
"Leave immediately," the woman's tone had become sharp, urgent, and commanding. "If Arora is there, you leave that hospital right now."
Jennie swallowed nervously. "But I still haven't—"
"I didn't ask what you've done. Leave."
Something about the exchange made the hairs on the back of Arora's neck stand up. Why would mentioning her name cause that reaction? Who was this woman? And why did her voice sound strangely, hauntingly familiar?
Before Jennie could reply, Arora pushed the storage room door open.
The sudden sound made Jennie jump violently, the phone nearly slipping from her trembling fingers. Her face drained of all color the moment she saw who stood in the doorway.
"L-Leader..."
Arora ignored the stammer. Her eyes remained locked on the phone. "Who are you talking to?"
Jennie opened her mouth, then closed it. No answer came.
That alone was enough.
Arora stepped forward and cleanly took the phone from her hand. For a brief moment, neither side spoke. The storage room felt unnaturally quiet.
Then, a soft, low laugh drifted through the speaker.
The sound froze Arora where she stood. Not because it sounded threatening, but because it felt familiar. Painfully familiar. Like hearing the melody of a song she had forgotten years ago.
"Interesting," the woman on the line said softly.
Arora tightened her grip on the device. "Who are you?"
Another laugh came through—warmer this time, almost affectionate. "How old are you now?"
The question caught her completely off guard. "What?"
"It's been a while," the woman's voice softened into something tender, followed by the words that shattered whatever composure Arora had left. "It's been a long time, baby girl."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. Arora's breath caught in her throat. An icy tightness squeezed painfully around her chest.
The voice. The words. The strange, visceral familiarity she couldn't explain. It felt as though someone had reached into a locked vault deep inside her childhood memories and forced the door open. She couldn't remember—yet somehow, her soul knew. She knew she had heard this voice before.
"Who are you?" she demanded again, but this time her tone lacked its usual absolute certainty.
The woman seemed amused by her reaction. "You'll remember eventually."
Click. The line went dead.
The silence that followed felt deafening. Arora lowered the phone slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs faster than it ever had in combat. Across from her, Jennie looked terrified, shrinking against the shelves. But Arora barely noticed her.
Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
Baby girl.
Why did those words hurt? Why did they feel so heavy? Why did she suddenly feel like a child standing in front of something vast and forgotten?
For the first time in years, Arora felt genuinely unsettled.
Then, the sound of rushing footsteps shattered the quiet. Several nurses sprinted past the open storage room door.
"Doctor Kelvin!" one of them shouted in panic.
Another voice echoed down the hall: "Get a stretcher! Quickly!"
Arora immediately stepped out into the corridor. The entire floor had transformed into chaos. Staff members were running, shouting for emergency equipment, and suddenly a terrible, sickening weight settled in her stomach.
Without waiting for an explanation, she moved. Fast.
The mystery woman, Jennie, the phone call—all of it vanished from her mind. Only one thing mattered now.
Kelvin.
By the time she reached his consultation office, a small crowd of medical staff had gathered around the examination bed. Doctors were moving frantically around him while heart monitors emitted sharp, rhythmic beeps.
For a second, Arora stood paralyzed in the doorway.
Her brother lay completely motionless. Pale. Unconscious.
And for the first time that night, real fear slipped through the cracks in her armor—not fear for herself, but sheer terror for him.
Jack appeared beside her a moment later, breathing slightly heavier from sprinting through the building. He stopped at her shoulder and looked toward the bed, his usual playful smile completely gone.
He quietly touched her sleeve and pointed toward Kelvin. "Baby..."
Arora looked at him. "What?"
"Listen."
She turned back toward the bed and leaned closer. At first, she heard only the steady beep of the monitors. Then, Kelvin's lips moved faintly. A barely audible whisper escaped his chest.
"...Jennie..."
The room seemed to freeze.
"...please..." Another shallow breath. "...don't leave..."
The words sounded broken, like fragments of a shattered memory he couldn't escape even in unconsciousness.
Arora stared at her brother. The mysterious woman on the phone knew her name and called her "baby girl." Jennie was hiding an elite connection. And now Kelvin lay unconscious, begging for a woman he supposedly didn't remember.
Nothing made sense anymore. Yet somehow, Arora knew every single piece was connected. The answers were drawing closer, and for the first time in her life, that realization didn't bring her clarity.
It terrified her. Because deep down, Arora knew that whatever truth was waiting ahead... was tied to her far more personally than she had ever imagined.
To Be Continued...