(Part 1/4 — Between Silence and Sin)
Three weeks had bled into one another since the night that shattered their world. Kuala Aman General Hospital was now just a ghost in Aisyah's memory—a monolithic structure that had once been her temple of learning how to save lives, but had ultimately extinguished a fundamental part of her own.
Her new reality was the Al-Falah Community Hospital, a smaller, more modest facility on the city's quieter outskirts. Her workspace here was less congested, the atmosphere palpably calmer, a world away from the high-stakes intensity she had known. Yet, every step she took down its clean, white corridors carried the echo of her past. Each time she attended to a frail, breathing female patient, the ghost of Mariam would materialize—silent, serene, but with an accusatory presence that seemed to demand a resolution to an unfinished story.
Aisyah closed the patient file before her with a soft thud and drew a long, shaky breath. In her chest, the guilt and the loss remained a dense, heavy weight, a constant companion. In a desperate attempt to exorcise her demons, she had bought a simple, leather-bound journal after the incident—its blank pages had become a confessional for all the words she could never speak aloud.
"I am trying to be a good nurse, but every day I feel like a traitor. Mariam is gone, but her shadow never leaves. It follows me into these new, quieter halls, a silent judgment on my every action."
A soft, hesitant knock on the door of the small on-call room pierced the silence. A voice she would recognize anywhere, even in her dreams, called out softly.
"Can I come in?"
Aisyah turned. Sebastian stood on the threshold, dressed in civilian clothes—a simple button-down shirt and dark trousers, a stark contrast to the authoritative white coat that had once been his second skin. His hair was slightly longer, curling at the nape of his neck, and his face seemed to have aged, etched with a new, weary maturity, though the same intelligent light still burned in his tired eyes.
"How did you know I was here?" Aisyah asked, her voice low and guarded.
"I asked your supervising consultant," he replied, stepping tentatively into the room. "She mentioned you've been staying late quite often since you resumed your training."
Aisyah hugged the file to her chest like a shield. "I just need time. A new place, a new routine… it all still feels so foreign, so disconnected from the life I knew."
Sebastian nodded, his movements careful, as if navigating a minefield. "I understand. Truly, I do. But… I've been worried about you."
He stopped a few feet from her, maintaining a respectful distance—not for lack of feeling, but because he understood that space was a necessary, fragile thing between them now.
"After everything that happened, I know you still blame yourself. I see it in your eyes every time we speak."
Aisyah turned back to the window, watching the late afternoon light bleed across the linoleum floor. "It's not just me, Sebastian. We are both culpable in this. But what I can't forgive myself for… what keeps me awake… is that I still don't know what truly happened that night."
Sebastian's brow furrowed, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his features. "What do you mean?"
Aisyah met his gaze, her tone measured but laden with unspoken implications.
"Mariam's post-mortem report—I've read it over and over. There are things that don't add up. The final dosage of medication recorded in the system isn't the same as the one I remember you ordering."
Sebastian went completely still. "What?"
"And there's the name of the nurse who was supposedly on duty that night," Aisyah continued, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "But when I cross-referenced the staff roster, that name doesn't exist. It's a ghost in the system."
Silence.
The atmosphere in the small room became dense, oppressive, as if the very air had stopped moving, holding its breath along with them.
"At first, I thought… maybe it was a system error," Aisyah pressed on, her words deliberate. "A glitch. But when I tried to pull the original hard copy from the records archive, the file was gone. Completely vanished."
Sebastian took a slow, deliberate step, bracing himself against the edge of a desk, his knuckles white. "You're sure?"
Aisyah gave a single, firm nod. "I'm certain. Something is wrong, Sebastian. Deeply wrong. And I'm starting to believe that Mariam's death wasn't just about us, about our secrets. I think someone wants us to believe it was."
Sebastian sank into a chair in front of the desk, his eyes losing focus, staring blankly at the generic patient file before them. "If what you're saying is true… then there was another hand at play. A third party in the shadows."
Aisyah leaned back against the cool wall, her body suddenly feeling heavy. "And I'm terrified that hand still works at our old hospital."
Sebastian released a long, shuddering sigh, his entire demeanor shifting—no longer just the protective husband, but the seasoned doctor who had once sworn an oath to seek the truth. "If that's the case, then silence is no longer an option. But we must be meticulous, Aisyah. We've already lost far too much."
Aisyah nodded, but her gaze was distant, fixed on something beyond the rain-streaked window. A fine, misty drizzle had begun to fall—as if the sky itself was weeping upon the secrets they were dragging back into the light.
"The truth never really dies," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Sometimes it just waits, patient as a serpent, for the right moment to strike."
(Part 2/4 — The Lost Trail)
The small town of Al-Falah was shrouded in a fine, persistent rain that night. The sound of droplets pattering against the hospital's corrugated roof was a metronomic ticking, counting down the seconds, marking the invisible, silent movements happening in the dark.
Aisyah waited in the nearly deserted staff parking lot, illuminated only by the weak, flickering glow of a solitary streetlamp. She clutched a cross-body bag containing photocopies of the discrepant reports, her left hand gripping her phone, which hadn't stopped vibrating with messages from Sebastian.
On my way. Stay where you are.
We'll talk here, not inside the hospital.
She understood his caution. Since their conversation that afternoon, a cold dread had taken root in her stomach, a growing certainty that something was profoundly amiss.
Earlier, after Aisyah had revealed the medication inconsistencies, Sebastian had tried to contact former nurses who had been on Mariam's ward. Every number was disconnected—wiped clean, as if they had never existed.
Then, more chillingly, Aisyah had received an anonymous email containing a single, cryptic line:
"What you seek is not lost. But someone is ensuring you do not find it."
No name, no signature. Just one attachment—a blurred photograph of a medication report showing a doctor's signature that did not belong to Sebastian.
Sebastian arrived, a dark umbrella held aloft, his face taut, his eyes constantly scanning the periphery as if expecting watchers in the shadows.
"I did some digging," he said without preamble, his voice low and urgent. "The nurse's name you mentioned—'Nadia Roslan'—she was never on the official payroll. But I found something strange."
He pulled a folded printout from his messenger bag.
"In the list of external contractors from last year, there's a name that's eerily similar—N. Roslan—a temporary worker in the pharmacy unit. She was only there for three weeks, then left without notice."
Aisyah's throat went dry. "Three weeks… that's the exact same period Mariam was admitted."
Sebastian gave a slow, grim nod. "And it gets stranger. Her last registered address was in a dilapidated old housing estate on the city's fringe. I tried to find more, but her file is locked—accessible only by upper management."
"Dr. Faridah?" Aisyah asked, her voice laced with a confusing mix of hope and apprehension.
Sebastian's gaze was fixed on the rain-slicked road beyond the lot. "Perhaps. But I don't want to make accusations. She might be in the dark, too. But one thing is clear—someone altered that medication report after Mariam's death."
Aisyah stared at the printout, her hands trembling with a suppressed fury. "If that's true, it means Mariam didn't die from a failed treatment… but from sabotage."
Sebastian placed a gentle, steadying hand on her shoulder. "Let's not jump to conclusions, Aisyah. But I promise you—I will find out who is behind this."
Before Aisyah could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps made them both turn. A man stood under the glow of a distant parking lot light, holding a black umbrella, half his face obscured by shadow.
"Ms. Aisyah?" His voice was deep, slightly tremulous. "I'm sorry to disturb you."
Aisyah straightened her posture, her instincts on high alert. "Yes, that's me. Who are you?"
The man lowered his umbrella slowly, revealing a face that was young, perhaps in his late twenties, but with eyes that held a story far older—a potent mix of fear and fierce determination.
"I'm… Amir. I used to work at Kuala Aman Hospital. As a records assistant."
Sebastian eyed him with open suspicion. "What are you doing here?"
Amir drew a long, fortifying breath, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I'm the one who sent you the email, Ms. Aisyah."
Aisyah and Sebastian exchanged a single, electrified glance—a silent communication that conveyed a universe of shock and realization.
"I know about Mariam," Amir continued, his words tumbling out now. "And about the altered medication report. But if I had stayed there any longer, I might not have had the chance to tell anyone."
Aisyah took a half-step closer, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Why are you helping us?"
Amir looked down, shuffling his feet. "Because I saw it myself. Someone accessed the system the night before that report was finalized. They used an administrative password. I didn't have time to copy the full name, but I remember the initials—D.F."
Sebastian fell silent, his face a mask of tension. "Dr. Faridah?"
Amir shook his head quickly. "I'm not sure, Doctor. But I know those files were locked with special access. And the morning after, all records related to Mariam were gone from the main server."
Aisyah held her breath, her mind reeling between the urge to believe and the instinct to flee.
"Mr. Amir… if what you're saying is true, it means someone in upper management is actively covering something up."
Amir looked at them, his face etched with a profound anxiety. "I know the risk I'm taking by coming here. But I can't keep quiet anymore. Just… be careful. There are people who know the two of you are digging into this again."
He gave a slight, nervous bow, then turned and melted back into the rain. In the blink of an eye, his form was swallowed by the mist and the dim, wavering light of the streetlamps.
Aisyah stood frozen, the fine rain dampening her shoulders.
Sebastian stared into the gloom where the man had vanished, then turned back to her.
"I don't know who we can trust anymore," he said, his voice hollow. "But one thing I am sure of—we've started something that can't be undone."
Aisyah looked at him, her eyes a storm of fear and resolute determination. "If this is about the truth, Sebastian, I won't stop. I can't."
Sebastian held her gaze for a long moment—and in his eyes, she saw something new, something beyond love: a deep, abiding respect for the courage he had once tried so hard to shield from the world.
"Then," he said finally, the words a solemn vow, "we see it through together."
And under the unceasing rain, the two souls stood—no longer just doctor and student, no longer merely husband and wife—but two allies, united in their quest for a truth the world was desperately trying to bury.
(Part 3/4 — The Shadow That Keeps Secrets)
The rain had ceased, but the night felt heavier, more oppressive, as if saturated with the weight of their newfound knowledge.
From the small, sparsely furnished rental room on the second floor of an old building, Aisyah gazed out the window, watching the reflections of streetlights shimmer on the wet pavement below.
On the desk, her laptop was open—the screen displayed an old system log file Amir had sent in a second email, dispatched in the dead of night.
Within that file was one detail that made her blood run cold.
Username: DR.S.RAHMAN
Login Time: 2:14 a.m.
*Access: Medication Dosage Report, Patient #M-45 (Mariam Iskandar)*
Aisyah swallowed hard, a metallic taste of fear in her mouth.
"Sebastian…"
She stared at the name, her mind refusing to process what her eyes were seeing.
Was it possible?
Could Sebastian have accessed the system that night without her knowledge?
The phone on her desk rang, its shrill tone making her jump. The screen flashed: Sebastian.
She hesitated for three long rings before answering.
"Aisyah? Are you okay?"
"I'm… I'm okay."
"I got another message from Amir. He says he found an old server log file. He wants to meet tonight. But…"
Sebastian paused, his voice dropping.
"He wants to meet me alone. He said there's something I need to know first, before he hands everything over."
Aisyah was silent for a long moment. "Why not both of us?"
"I don't know. But I promise I'll tell you everything after I meet him. Trust me, Aisyah."
Aisyah held the phone long after the call ended, the plastic casing warm in her hand.
Sebastian's final words echoed in her head—"Trust me."
But trust felt like a fragile glass vessel, and the evidence in her hands was a hammer.
Three hours later, the rain had returned with a vengeance.
Sebastian arrived at the designated spot—a derelict parking lot behind the old hospital, a place Amir had specified for their meeting.
Only two of the streetlights were functioning, casting a sickly yellow glow on the puddles that dotted the cracked asphalt.
He waited for nearly fifteen minutes, but Amir didn't appear.
Sebastian pulled out his phone, trying his number, but it went straight to a disconnected tone.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the far end of the lot, moving quickly—dressed in a dark hoodie, clutching something in hand.
Sebastian stepped forward. "Amir?"
The man stopped a few meters away, his face pale and slick with sweat despite the chill.
"Doctor…" he gasped, breathless. "I—I got something from the old server. But someone knows I took the files."
Sebastian moved closer. "What do you mean?"
Amir thrust a small, brown envelope toward him. "This is a copy of the original system log. I didn't have time to read it all. But I saw something—your name is in there twice. But one of them isn't a real login. It's…"
He stopped abruptly. The sound of a car engine shattered the silence, followed by the blinding glare of headlights from the lot's entrance.
Before Sebastian could react, a motorcycle roared to life and sped directly toward them.
"Amir, move!"
It was too late.
The motorcycle swerved, missing Sebastian by inches but clipping Amir, who fell hard onto the wet ground. The envelope flew from his grasp, skittering across the asphalt and into a murky puddle.
Sebastian rushed to the young man's side, his knees hitting the ground with a jarring thud.
"Amir! Amir, can you hear me!"
Amir coughed violently, a trickle of blood tracing a path from the corner of his mouth. With his last vestiges of strength, he grabbed Sebastian's wrist, his grip surprisingly strong.
"Doctor… it wasn't you… the person who used… your account… he… he's from the top…"
His head lolled to the side, his final words lost to the night.
Sebastian remained kneeling, paralyzed—a cocktail of horror, grief, and shock freezing him in place. The sound of the motorcycle's engine faded into the darkness, leaving behind only the smell of petrol and the lifeless weight of Amir's body in his arms.
The next morning, a brief news item appeared on a local portal:
"Former hospital employee dies in hit-and-run."
No witnesses. No clear CCTV footage.
Aisyah read the report on her phone, her heart seizing in her chest.
She knew—this was no accident.
Minutes later, a firm, rapid knock sounded at her door.
She opened it cautiously—Sebastian stood on the other side, his face ashen, his shirt still damp and clinging to him, his eyes raw and red-rimmed.
"He's dead," he said, his voice a ragged whisper. "Amir. I couldn't do anything."
Aisyah brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. "What did he say? What were his last words?"
Sebastian shook his head slowly, the movement heavy with defeat. "He managed to say… the person who used my account that night wasn't me. It was someone higher up—someone from management."
He pulled the water-stained, mud-smeared envelope from his jacket. "This is the real log file. But before we open it… I need to ask you something, Aisyah."
He looked at her, his gaze searching, vulnerable. "Do you believe me?"
The question hung in the air between them, immense and unignorable.
Aisyah looked at the face of the man before her—the face that had been her sanctuary, now marred by an uninvited doubt. Her eyes glistened, her voice barely a whisper.
"I want to believe you, Sebastian… but your name is right there in the evidence. I'm afraid of what we'll find… that it will change everything."
Sebastian bowed his head for a moment, then released a long, shuddering breath. "If that's the price of the truth, I'm willing to pay it."
He opened the envelope in front of her. The damp papers inside were still legible—and on the final line of the system log, clear as day, it read:
System access by user DR.S.RAHMAN (Account Clone)
Access authorized by Hospital Director: DR. F. ADNAN
Aisyah stared at the name—and for a moment, all the air was sucked from the room.
Dr. F. Adnan.
Director of Kuala Aman General Hospital.
Uncle to Dr. Faridah.
They stood in stunned silence, the only sound the renewed patter of rain against the windowpane, a quiet accompaniment to their erratic, pounding heartbeats.
"Sebastian…"
"Yes?"
"If this is true, we're not just facing an old secret. We're facing the entire system."
Sebastian reached for her hand, his grip firm despite his exhaustion, his gaze steady.
"Then, Aisyah… we face it together. All the way to the end."
(Part 4/4 — Fire Beneath the Light)
The atmosphere in the hospital office that morning appeared deceptively normal from the outside—a steady stream of doctors, nurses, and medical students filed into the building as if it were any other day.
But for Aisyah and Sebastian, every step they took was not merely a step into a workplace; it was a march toward a truth that had the power to annihilate everything they had left.
Aisyah clutched the file of evidence in her hand, her knuckles white, while stealing glances at Sebastian beside her. He appeared calm, a statue of composure, but his eyes held a brewing storm.
They both knew what they carried was not just a collection of documents; it was proof of a systemic betrayal, a rot within the institution they had once trusted implicitly.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Aisyah's voice was barely audible.
"If we stop now, all the dead will remain silent forever," Sebastian replied, his voice steady, though a faint tremor betrayed his calm facade.
Aisyah nodded. She knew this was no longer about clearing their names; it was about the one who was gone—Mariam.
They were summoned to a special meeting room—ostensibly for a final debriefing on the old case.
Three members of the hospital ethics board sat at the long table, accompanied by a man who made Aisyah's blood run cold.
Dr. F. Adnan.
Director of Kuala Aman General Hospital.
The name from the system log.
"Dr. Sebastian Rahman. Ms. Aisyah. Thank you for coming," Dr. Adnan began, his smile placid yet chillingly cold. "We understand you are still… unsettled by past events. But I hope we can resolve this matter professionally."
Sebastian met his gaze squarely. "Professionally? A member of our staff is dead. A student has lost her future. And someone manipulated the system to bury the truth."
Dr. Adnan leaned back in his leather chair, the picture of calm authority. "Those are heavy accusations, Doctor."
Aisyah opened the file in her hands and slid a copy of the system log across the polished table. "We have proof. This is a copy of the original data access log for patient Mariam Iskandar. Dr. Sebastian's account was cloned—and the access was authorized by the Director's own ID."
A hushed murmur rippled through the ethics board members. The air in the room became thick with tension.
Dr. Adnan merely offered a thin, bloodless smile. "And this file… where did you obtain it?"
Sebastian held his ground. "From Amir. Before he was killed."
The smile on Dr. Adnan's face faltered for a fraction of a second. "That is an unsubstantiated claim."
Aisyah locked eyes with him, her voice firm. "We are prepared for a formal inquiry. But if this hospital is intent on covering up its own malfeasance, we will take this to the media."
The room fell into a profound, ringing silence.
Several seconds ticked by before Dr. Adnan stood, his face rearranged into an expression of calm authority, though his eyes had turned to dark, cold slate.
"Very well. If you wish to play with fire, do not cry when you are burned."
He strode out of the room, leaving them in a frozen, suffocating stillness.
From that day, pressure descended upon them from all sides.
Sebastian received an official suspension letter.
Aisyah was summoned by her university supervisor to answer questions about her "unauthorized involvement with confidential hospital documents."
Yet, through it all, they maintained contact—clandestine, coded, through brief text messages every night:
"I'm okay."
"Stay strong."
"We're getting closer."
One night, Sebastian sent a terse message:
"Found something in Mariam's old digital files. A medication report that was never logged in the official system."
Aisyah's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
"There's an internal code. I recognize the digital signature. It belongs to Dr. Faridah."
Aisyah stared at her phone, the name burning into her retinas.
Dr. Faridah. The senior head nurse. Dr. Adnan's niece.
A few days later, Aisyah was called to an old, nearly deserted ward.
There, Dr. Faridah waited for her—her face was pale, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed.
"Aisyah," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you're investigating. You need to stop. There are things you are not prepared to hear."
Aisyah stood her ground, her posture rigid. "I just want the truth."
Dr. Faridah closed her eyes for a moment, as if in pain. "That night… Mariam was not supposed to receive that medication. It was for another patient. But the medication system was altered—and yes, I was the one who did it. But not by my own will."
Aisyah felt the floor lurch beneath her. "Who ordered you?"
A single tear traced a path down Dr. Faridah's cheek. "Dr. Adnan. He told me to change the records. He said the patient was being transferred, but in reality… he was erasing evidence of a procedural error that involved a trainee—a trainee who was you."
Aisyah's world tilted on its axis, the walls closing in. "So Mariam died because of me?"
"No," Dr. Faridah countered sharply, grabbing Aisyah's hand. "Not because of you. But because they didn't want to face the consequences. They manipulated all the reports to make it look like your mistake. And Sebastian's."
Aisyah's voice trembled, "Why are you only telling me this now?"
Dr. Faridah looked at her with eyes full of a lifetime of regret. "Because I am tired of living in silence."
That night, Sebastian and Aisyah met again in the garden of the old hospital—the place where they had once promised each other they would never surrender.
The final file was now in their possession: a copy of Dr. Faridah's sworn testimony, supported by the digital log evidence.
Sebastian looked at Aisyah, his expression a complex tapestry of guilt and profound relief.
"Now you know the truth, Aisyah. You can let it all go. Your name will be cleared."
Aisyah studied his face for a long moment. "But what about your name?"
He offered a bitter, weary smile. "They will still sanction me. I was the doctor who signed the final report. In the eyes of the system, the ultimate responsibility still falls on me."
Aisyah shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I won't let you carry this alone."
Sebastian moved closer, his voice husky with emotion. "If there's one thing I've learned from all of this, Aisyah… love isn't about who is right. It's about who is willing to stand and fight, even when everything is wrong."
A soft rain began to fall—as if the heavens themselves were weeping with them.
Aisyah looked into his face, and this time, there were no masks, no professional barriers, no secrets between them.
"If this is the end of our road, I want it to end with the truth."
Sebastian squeezed her hand, his grip firm and sure. "The truth won't kill us, Aisyah. But the silence would."
He handed the file over to a journalist who had been waiting discreetly across the street.
The glare of camera flashes illuminated them for a moment, followed by a clap of thunder that seemed to tear the sky in two.
Weeks later, the story exploded across the national media:
"Hospital Data Manipulation Scandal Uncovered—Hospital Director Suspended, Internal Probe Launched."
Aisyah's name was officially cleared.
Sebastian, however, remained under temporary suspension, awaiting the final outcome of the internal review.
But on that night, standing on the small balcony of their old apartment, Aisyah sat alone, watching the city lights.
She heard slow, deliberate footsteps behind her—Sebastian approached, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee.
"We walked through the fire," he said softly. "And it seems we're still standing in the light."
Aisyah smiled, a tear escaping and tracing a warm path down her cheek without her bidding.
"Sometimes that light doesn't come from above," she replied, her voice quiet but sure. "It comes from the person willing to stand beside you while the world burns."
Sebastian nodded slowly. "And I'm not going anywhere."
In the distance, the faint wail of an ambulance siren echoed.
They sat together in a comfortable, shared silence, watching as the sky began to lighten at the horizon—a new dawn emerging after the long, harrowing night.
But under the small side table, nestled between a pile of unopened mail, a single, unmarked envelope lay hidden.
And inside it—a copy of another system log, dated one week after the scandal had broken.
Username: DR.A.ISKANDAR.
Aisyah's breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
"Sebastian…" she said slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "Someone else accessed the system. That name—"
Sebastian turned, his face draining of all color.
"Iskandar?"
Before either could utter another word, the lights in the apartment flickered twice—and then plunged them into utter, complete darkness.