Woh zinda tha.

Bas duniya ke liye nahi.

Kyuki kuch zindagiyan,

sirf chhupkar hi bachti hain.

The night was heavy, almost choking, even though the city outside refused sleep.

Cars, trucks, and late-hour engines still echoed through Jodhpur’s midnight air — a constant hum of life.

But miles away, the hospital sat in its own isolated silence.

Inside, the corridor was alive only with night-shift routines, soft murmurs, the rustle of patient charts, the distant roll of a stretcher.

A tired old doctor dragged his feet toward his cabin, eyelids drooping, his footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor.

Then—

He froze.

A sudden beep—beep—beep broke the hallway’s calm.

A patient monitor.

From a room he knew was supposed to stay untouched.

A cold shiver crawled up his spine.

He swallowed thickly, throat tightening in fear.

His legs refused to move — as if someone invisible held him in place.

It felt wrong.

Dead wrong.

No one was allowed in that room.

No one… except the real doctor who had taken charge of that patient.

The doctor no one questioned.

The doctor no one dared to follow.

The old man trembled, backed away, and quietly walked off… pretending he heard nothing.

✧✧⁠✧✧

Morning arrived like a blade cutting through the night.

A tall, masculine figure entered the hospital corridor — a man who seemed carved out of marble.

Six foot three, broad shoulders stretching beneath a fitted blue shirt.

White coat hanging effortlessly, stethoscope brushing against his chest, black trousers fitting him with intimidating sharpness.

He walked with purpose.

Authority.

Danger wrapped in calm.

He stopped outside the restricted room and scanned the hallway — once, twice.

Empty.

Good.

He opened the door, and slipped inside.

Closed it behind him with a soft click.

The patient lay in the bed surrounded by wires, monitors, and a heavy oxygen mask.

Machines beeped steadily beside him, tracking every fragile heartbeat, every flicker of life.

Half of the patient’s face was still hidden under thick bandages.

The man’s green eyes softened — not with pity, but with something deeper.

Something protective.

Something painful.

And his mind kept replaying the final words that woman had whispered before disappearing:

“Don’t let the world know… he is still alive.”

✧⁠✧✧✧✧⁠✧✧✧✧⁠✧✧✧✧⁠✧✧✧✧⁠✧✧✧✧⁠✧