The hospital felt different after the bombing.
Aarohi walked the corridors with her white coat pulled tight and her stethoscope around her neck. New security cameras watched from every corner. Guards stood at every entrance. The staff whispered in clusters, their voices low, their eyes darting toward the windows.
She stopped at the nurses' station on the third floor. Kavya was typing furiously at a computer, her hair escaping its ponytail.
"You look terrible," Kavya said without looking up.
"Good morning to you too."
"I am serious. You have bags under your eyes." Kavya finally looked at her. "What is going on with you?"
Aarohi forced a smile. "Insomnia. The bombing shook me up."
Kavya's expression softened. "My mother called me four times that night. She wanted me to quit." She reached out and squeezed Aarohi's hand. "You were amazing, though. People are calling you the Angel of Raichand."
"The Angel of Raichand." Aarohi laughed. "That is ridiculous."
"That is PR. Riya's team is running with it." Kavya lowered her voice. "Between us, I think your husband's publicist is happier about the bombing than she should be."
Aarohi's smile faded. "I have rounds. I will see you later."
She walked away before Kavya could ask more questions.
---
The oncology ward was quieter than usual. Several patients had been transferred after the bombing. Their rooms stood empty. Their beds were stripped.
But Anjali was still there.
The girl sat up in bed with her tablet in her lap. Her bald head was wrapped in a bright pink scarf. When she saw Aarohi, her face lit up.
"You came back," Anjali said.
"I told you I would." Aarohi sat on the edge of the bed and took the girl's hand. "You look better."
"The doctors say my counts are up. They say I might go home next week." Anjali's voice was small and hopeful. "Is that true?"
Aarohi glanced at the chart at the foot of the bed. The numbers were promising. The experimental treatment was working.
"It is true," she said. "You are getting stronger every day."
Anjali beamed. Then her expression shifted.
"Dr. Aarohi, there was a man here yesterday. Asking about you."
Aarohi's blood went cold. "What man?"
"I do not know. He was wearing a suit. He talked to the nurse at the front desk." Anjali's brow furrowed. "He had a funny voice. Like he was pretending to be someone else."
"Did he have a name?"
"He said he was from the foundation. He wanted to know where your office was." Anjali squeezed her hand. "I did not tell him. I do not like strangers."
Aarohi's heart pounded, but her face showed nothing. She smiled and ruffled Anjali's scarf-covered head.
"You are very smart," she said. "Do not ever talk to strangers. Even if they say they know me."
"I will not."
She stayed with Anjali for another hour. She read to her. She made her laugh. She was the doctor the girl needed her to be.
But her mind was elsewhere. A man in a suit. A funny voice. Asking about her.
The hunter was getting closer.
---
She found Dr. Ananya Rao in her office. The oncologist sat behind her desk, reviewing files with the intensity of a woman who had seen too much.
"Close the door," Dr. Rao said without looking up.
Aarohi closed it.
Dr. Rao set down her pen and removed her glasses. Her eyes were sharp.
"Your mother's treatment has been fully funded for the next eighteen months. Anonymous donor. No strings attached. Just a wire transfer from an offshore account that does not exist on any official record." She paused. "Do you know what that means?"
Aarohi sat down across from her. "It means someone wants her alive."
"It means someone with resources and reach wants your mother alive." Dr. Rao leaned forward. "Aarohi, I have known you since you were a teenager. I have watched you fight for your mother's life with everything you have. I have also watched you lie."
The word hung in the air.
"I am not accusing you," Dr. Rao continued. "I am telling you that I see you. Whatever is happening, you do not have to do it alone."
Aarohi wanted to tell her. She wanted to confess everything. The Council. The bomb. The hunter. But Dr. Rao was a good person. Kindness had no place in the world Aarohi inhabited.
"I appreciate that," she said. "Everything is under control."
Dr. Rao's eyes were sad. "That is what your mother says too. Right before everything falls apart."
---
She was leaving the hospital when she saw him.
Dr. Aditya Khanna stood by the entrance. His white coat was unbuttoned. His stethoscope hung around his neck like a scarf. He was talking to a nurse, laughing at something she said. When he saw Aarohi, his smile shifted.
"Dr. Mehra." He excused himself and walked toward her. "I have been looking for you."
"Have you?"
"I wanted to check on you. After the bombing." His eyes were warm. "You were on the fifth floor. That was close."
"I was lucky."
"Luck had nothing to do with it." He fell into step beside her. "I saw the footage. You evacuated three floors of patients. You carried a child down five flights of stairs. You stayed until everyone was out."
"It was my job."
"It was heroism." He stopped at the door. "My uncle always says that people show you who they are in moments of crisis. He is not wrong about much, but he is right about that."
Your uncle. Raghav Khanna. The man who had stood in the warehouse.
"Your uncle," she said carefully. "Raghav Khanna. You are close with him?"
Aditya's expression flickered. "We were. Less so now. He is complicated."
"Complicated how?"
He hesitated. "He is not the man I thought he was." He looked at her. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged. "Just making conversation. I heard he was at the gala. He seemed powerful."
"He is." Aditya's voice was flat. "That is the problem."
He walked away before she could ask more. Aarohi stood in the hospital entrance, watching him go.
He knows, she thought. Aditya knows his uncle is involved in something dark.
She filed that information away and walked out into the afternoon sun.