The rain that night showed no sign of ceasing. It was a relentless, mournful downpour, as if the sky itself was weeping an endless stream of sorrow. From the confines of her small apartment, Aisyah stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was still damp from a shower that had done little to cleanse her unease, and her eyes were swollen and shadowed from too many sleepless nights. On the desk beside her, stark against the dark wood, lay the summons for an inquiry from the Hospital Ethics Board. Next to it, her phone seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, still holding the memory of yesterday's mysterious call.
Level 12. Come alone.
The words played on a continuous loop in her mind, an insistent echo that refused to fade. She had worked at Seri Medika General Hospital for over five years, yet she had never once set foot on Level 12—a area whispered about by staff, officially closed after a minor fire in the old records section years ago. It was a place people avoided, a domain belonging only to maintenance crews and ghosts of the past. But tonight, a desperate, compelling force within her overrode all caution. She had to know the truth—about Sebastian, about the "first Mariam," about her own family.
The hospital was a tomb of silence by midnight. The usual daytime cacophony of rolling gurneys, ringing phones, and murmured conversations had been replaced by an oppressive quiet. The lights in the long corridors were dimmed, casting elongated, distorted shadows that danced and flickered on the linoleum floor like spectral sentinels. Aisyah's footsteps were the only sound, a soft, hesitant tap-tap that seemed to amplify the emptiness. She swiped her access card at the elevator door, the magnetic strip reader flashing green with a soft beep. Her finger, trembling slightly, hovered over the button panel before pressing '12'. The elevator shuddered almost imperceptibly and began its slow, groaning ascent. Each floor number that lit up and faded felt like crossing a boundary not just in space, but in time, moving her further from the present and deeper into a past she was only beginning to fathom.
"If you want to know why Sebastian Ariff returned…"
The words from the anonymous voice echoed once more in the confined space, a haunting soundtrack to her descent into the hospital's underbelly.
The elevator doors slid open with a prolonged, dissonant ding that sliced through the silence. The corridor of Level 12 was a study in neglect. Half the overhead lights were dead, the others flickered erratically, creating a strobe-like effect that revealed glimpses of dust motes dancing in the stale air. The scent was a potent mix of aging paper, damp, and the faint, metallic tang of rust. At the far end of the shadowy passage, a door stood ajar, its placard barely legible: 'Medical Records Archive (Restricted Access)'.
Aisyah swallowed, her throat dry. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers clumsy with a cocktail of fear and anticipation, and activated the small flashlight. The beam cut a narrow swath through the oppressive gloom. Steeling herself, she stepped out of the elevator and into the past.
The archive room was a cavern of forgotten histories. Rows of tall, cast-iron filing cabinets stood like silent guardians, their surfaces dulled by a thick layer of grime. Dust lay heavy on every surface—on the solitary desk in the corner, on the chairs, on the stacks of loose papers—as if the room had been sealed in a time capsule. She moved slowly, her light scanning the labels on the cabinet drawers: 2015 – Emergency Surgeries, 2016 – Head Trauma Cases, 2017 – Unexpected Deaths.
And then, tucked between a volume on post-operative infections and a binder of administrative memos, she found it. A single, unassuming folder, more coated in dust than its neighbors, with a label written in a fine, elegant cursive that sent a chill down her spine:
"Mariam Binti Iskandar — 2019 (Top Secret)"
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of dread and discovery. 2019. The very year she had begun her internship under Sebastian's meticulous, often intimidating, guidance. With hands that trembled violently, she pried the folder open. As she did, a single, black-and-white photograph slipped from between the pages and fluttered silently to the floor.
Aisyah bent to retrieve it, her breath catching in her lungs. The air seemed to vanish from the room.
In the photograph was the patient she knew as the first Mariam. But standing on either side of her hospital bed were two men: Sebastian, looking younger, his face less lined but his eyes holding the same intensity… and her own father, Dr. Iskandar Rahim.
A cold dread seeped into her bones. Her hands shook as she turned her attention back to the medical report inside the folder. Her eyes scanned the text, skipping over the medical jargon until they landed on the section detailing the surgical team:
Lead Surgeon: Dr. Iskandar Rahim
Assisting Surgeon: Dr. Sebastian Ariff
And below that, a handwritten addendum in a different, hurried script:
"Cause of death amended — per family request."
Aisyah felt the world tilt. Her mind reeled, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. The family? Which family? Her father's? Her own?
Her trembling fingers found the last sheet in the folder—a loose note, unsigned, the words typed on a typewriter with a faded ribbon:
"The truth is not meant to be saved. It is meant to be buried. Unearth it, and another life will be the cost."
The sudden, unmistakable sound of a footfall in the corridor outside jolted her from her horrified trance.
She slammed the folder shut, her movements frantic. Shoving it under her arm, she extinguished her phone's light and ducked behind a large, metal cabinet, pressing herself into the narrow, dark space. The scent of old metal and dust filled her nostrils.
The footsteps drew nearer, deliberate and unhurried. A beam of light, stronger than her own, swept across the room, illuminating dust clouds in its path. The person entered the archive. The voice that spoke was familiar—calm, yet strained with a tension she had never heard in it before.
"Why are you here, Aisyah?"
She drew in a sharp, silent gasp.
"Sebastian…"
He emerged from the shadows, his figure materializing in the dim, fractured light. His face was half in shadow, half illuminated, making his expression unreadable.
"You shouldn't have come here," he said, his voice low. It wasn't anger she heard, but something far more unsettling—fear.
"I needed to know the truth," Aisyah countered, her voice cracking as she stepped out from her hiding place. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his form. "About the first Mariam. About my father. It's all in this file, isn't it?"
Sebastian closed his eyes for a long moment, as if gathering strength. "Aisyah, please, put the file down. There are things at play here much larger than the two of us."
"Larger than the truth?" her voice trembled with emotion. "Or larger than the secrets you're trying to protect?"
He took a step closer. "I am trying to protect you, Aisyah. And your father."
The statement struck her with physical force. "My father? What does he have to do with this?"
Sebastian released a long, weary sigh, the sound of a man carrying a burden for far too long. "Your father was the one who instructed me to alter the death report for the first Mariam. He was afraid that the unvarnished truth would destroy something much bigger—this hospital, his reputation… our family's stability."
Aisyah shook her head in vehement denial. "My father would never—"
"He did it because he is human, Aisyah. Just like me. Just like you. Sometimes, in the world of medicine, we are forced to commit a smaller sin to prevent a greater catastrophe. To save other lives."
Aisyah looked down, hot tears finally spilling over and tracing paths through the dust on her cheeks. "And you… you took the blame for it all? You shouldered this alone?"
Sebastian was silent. He simply looked at her, and in his gaze, she saw a painful, raw honesty that dismantled her defenses.
"I thought if I left, it would all go quiet. That the past would stay buried. But when you reappeared in my life… all the ghosts I tried to outrun started chasing me again."
Several seconds stretched into an eternity, filled only by the relentless patter of rain against the high windows and the low, persistent hum of an ancient air-conditioning unit.
Aisyah stared at him, her lips quivering. "I don't know whether I should hate you or pity you."
Sebastian offered a bleak, hollow smile. "If it brings you any peace, then hate me. But I promise you one thing—I will not let you bear the consequences of this."
Suddenly, the sound of the main door being thrown open with force echoed through the archive. A loud, authoritative voice boomed in the corridor.
"Who's in there? This area is restricted!"
It was a security guard.
In an instant, Sebastian's demeanor shifted from confessional to protective. He grabbed Aisyah's hand, his grip firm and urgent, and pulled her towards a rear service door she hadn't noticed. They burst out into a dark, narrow service corridor and broke into a run, their frantic footsteps and ragged breaths the only sounds in the confined space. They reached a stairwell marked 'Emergency Exit' and stopped, chests heaving, standing so close in the darkness she could feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the faint, familiar scent of his soap mixed with the sterile hospital air.
"You're always saving me," Aisyah whispered, the words escaping her lips almost unconsciously. Sebastian looked down at her, their eyes meeting and locking in the profound darkness. "Perhaps because I failed to save someone once before."
In that moment, time seemed to suspend its flow. The world outside their shared breath, their pounding hearts, ceased to exist.
But before another word could be spoken, the sound of the guard's radio and heavy footsteps grew louder, echoing up the stairwell. They were forced to separate—Sebastian gestured for her to go down one flight, while he turned to head upwards, a decoy to draw the pursuit.
"Go!" he urged, his voice a strained command.
The next morning, the hospital was abuzz with tense energy. The missing file from Level 12 had been reported.
Dr. Faridah called an emergency meeting of all senior staff and relevant personnel. The conference room was thick with apprehension.
"We are now under formal investigation by the health authorities," she stated, her voice crisp and authoritative, cutting through the murmur. "And I expect absolute honesty from every single one of you. If anyone has any information about who accessed the archives last night, now is the time to speak up."
Aisyah kept her gaze fixed on the grain of the wooden table, her silence a heavy weight in her chest. Nina, sitting beside her, cast a worried glance in her direction, sensing her friend's profound distress.
But Sebastian sat at the far end of the table, his posture relaxed, his face a mask of detached calm—as if the storm swirling around them was of no concern to him at all.
After the meeting adjourned, Aisyah managed to intercept him in a deserted corridor. "Sebastian, what do we do now? If they find out the file is missing—"
"I will take responsibility for it," he interrupted, his tone unnervingly placid. "I will confess to everything. You will not be implicated."
"Stop doing this!" her voice broke, frustration and a strange, protective anguish overwhelming her. "Every time there is a problem, you make yourself the shield! I am not a child who needs to be coddled!"
Sebastian stopped walking and turned to face her fully, his gaze intense and unwavering. "It is better that I am the one who gets hurt than you, Aisyah."
She wanted to argue, to reject his self-sacrificing nobility, but the words died in her throat. Every time he said her name with that particular inflection—a blend of weariness, reverence, and deep, unspoken affection—it felt like a key turning in a lock deep within her soul, disarming her completely.
That night, Aisyah returned home late, her body and mind exhausted. But as she approached her car in the nearly empty parking lot, she saw a figure waiting—a middle-aged man in a dark overcoat, his posture erect and official.
"Aisyah Rahim?" his voice was deep and resonant. "I'm Inspector Razlan. We are reopening the investigation into the death of a patient named Mariam Binti Iskandar, from 2019. We need your cooperation."
Aisyah stood frozen, her keys digging into her palm.
"Why me?"
Razlan opened a briefcase and extracted a file, showing her a photocopied page of an old report. "Because new evidence has come to light suggesting that you may be a crucial witness—and perhaps the true victim in this case."
Aisyah was dumbstruck. "A victim? What are you talking about?"
Inspector Razlan held her gaze, his eyes sharp and perceptive. "The patient, Mariam, was not a stranger, Doctor. Her full name… was Mariam Iskandar. She was your sister."
Aisyah's world went black at the edges. The parking lot lights seemed to dim. Her breath hitched, her knees buckled, and she had to steady herself against the cold metal of her car. The words were not just information; they were a seismic shock that reverberated through the very core of her being, cracking the foundation of her identity.
"That's impossible… my father never—"
"But the medical file that went missing last night confirms a DNA match between the patient and your family. And the person who signed the final, amended death certificate—was Dr. Sebastian Ariff."
Tears Aisyah didn't even feel coming began to stream down her face, hot and silent.
All the scattered, jagged pieces of the secret that had haunted her for weeks now began to slam together with terrifying force—and each new connection revealed a deeper, more profound layer of pain.
Standing on her balcony later that night, she was alone with the whispering city. The ghost of Sebastian played in her mind—the man who had shouldered a sin not out of malice, but out of a desperate, twisted need to protect her family, to protect her.
"Sebastian…" she whispered into the cool night air. "What else are you hiding from me?"
A gentle night breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the distant, mournful wail of an ambulance siren. And deep within Aisyah's heart, a feeling she had tried to suppress for so long began to unfurl—a terrifying, beautiful, and devastating tension between a love that felt sacred, and a truth that threatened to shatter everything they had ever known.