(Part 1/4 – A Voice from the System)
The morning breeze whispered softly through the grounds of Kuala Aman General Hospital, yet the air itself felt heavy, saturated—as if the very building were a stone-faced guardian of secrets it was reluctant to surrender. In the wake of the Dr. Adnan scandal, the hospital's atmosphere had undergone a seismic shift. Staff had been quietly reassigned, a new management system was being implemented, and the name Sebastian Rahman had become a permanent, hushed topic of conversation, a ghost haunting the hallways.
Aisyah moved with deliberate slowness towards the old IT lab—a room now largely abandoned following the internal investigations. She clutched her phone tightly, the final message from the late Amir still displayed on its screen like a digital epitaph:
"If the system changes after this, look for the name hidden beneath the old log files. Only one name remains in every version."
She had never fully deciphered its meaning… until this morning.
Sebastian appeared at the lab door, dressed in his worn black coat, his face looking drawn, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the empty corridor.
Aisyah nodded, trying to steady the frantic flutter in her chest. "If we stop now, then everyone who died for this truth… their deaths were for nothing."
Sebastian offered a bitter, weary smile. "You're starting to get good at using my own words against me."
He approached the dust-shrouded main terminal, his fingers pressing a sequence of aged keys with practiced familiarity. The old system display flickered to life, its green text on a black background a relic from a different era. "This system was decommissioned six years ago. If Amir was right, all the data he referred to is stored here, frozen in time."
Aisyah stood beside him, her entire being focused on the glowing screen, her reflection a pale, anxious ghost in its surface.
Sebastian typed a series of commands. Lines of code scrolled upward.
Accessing archive server...
Password required.
He entered the password they had discovered in Amir's files, a key salvaged from a dead man's notes.
The screen blinked, then shifted to a list of user IDs that had once been active.
Aisyah read them one by one—mostly familiar names from a past she was trying to forget. But amidst the long list, her eyes snagged on the final entry, a line that seemed to pulse with ominous energy.
User ID: DR.A.ISKANDAR
Status: Active
Last Login: 03:12 a.m. (Yesterday)
Aisyah stared, dumbfounded. "Yesterday?"
Sebastian looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That's impossible. That account should have been purged. All legacy accounts were wiped during the system migration."
Aisyah bit her lip, the coppery taste of fear sharp on her tongue. "If this account was active yesterday, it means someone is still using that identity. Now."
Sebastian quickly copied the information onto a secure data drive, his movements efficient and urgent. "We need to check who created this account and when it was reactivated. But…"
He stopped, his gaze locking with Aisyah's, his expression grim. "That name. Do you see it?"
Aisyah swallowed, the name catching in her throat. "Iskandar."
It landed not as a word, but as a distant echo from a forgotten past—a whisper she had almost succeeded in burying.
She didn't know why, but a profound, inexplicable tightness seized her chest every time that name was spoken.
That night, Aisyah sat alone in her rented room, the laptop open before her like a portal to a past she feared to enter.
She tried searching for "Dr. A. Iskandar" in the hospital's official database, but every search result returned a void. No official records. No active medical licenses.
Just a single, yellowed article from a news archive dated 2004:
"Dr. Ahmad Iskandar Missing After Probe into Experimental Drug Scandal."
Aisyah's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of dread. She scrolled through the article slowly, her eyes devouring each word.
The full name—Ahmad Iskandar.
A name she had heard long ago, in stories her mother would tell through tears when Aisyah was just a child.
"Your father was a good man, Aisyah. But the world is sometimes cruel to those who try to be honest."
Her hands began to tremble. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the rapid, shallow breaths that threatened to spiral into panic.
"It can't be…" she whispered to the silent room.
Her phone vibrated on the desk. A message from Sebastian:
"I've checked the supplemental system logs. The account isn't just active—it has direct access to the Mariam case files, and… to your personal files."
A cold dread, sharp and immediate, shot through Aisyah's veins. She typed a frantic reply.
"My files? What do you mean?"
"Your birth records. I don't know why, but there's a direct link between your ID and the Dr. A. Iskandar account."
Aisyah fell into a stunned silence. The air felt thick, suffocating. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Tears, hot and unbidden, began to trace silent paths down her cheeks.
The following morning, they sat in the quietest corner of the nearly empty hospital café, a small island of conspiracy amidst the mundane.
Aisyah watched Sebastian, who seemed to be vibrating with a nervous energy.
"I've re-examined the log data," he said, his voice low and careful. "Dr. A. Iskandar isn't a new identity. The account was created twenty years ago, then scrubbed… and reactivated three days before Amir died."
Sebastian drew a long, steadying breath. "Who do you think it is?"
Aisyah looked down, her fingers tightening around her now-cold cup of coffee. "That name… it was my father's name."
Sebastian stared at her, his face a canvas of disbelief and dawning horror.
"Aisyah…"
She gave a slow, painful nod, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I thought he was dead. Everyone said he fled after that experimental drug scandal twenty years ago. But if this account was active yesterday, it means…"
Sebastian's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "He's still alive."
Aisyah closed her eyes, a maelstrom of emotions crashing over her—a turbulent wave of anger, fear, and a longing so deep and unresolved it felt like a physical ache.
"Why now? Why, after all this time, is he resurfacing now?"
Sebastian watched her with a soft, pained empathy. "Maybe because of the truth we've started to uncover. Maybe he's trying to protect you. Or maybe…"
He fell silent, unable to give voice to the darkest possibility.
Aisyah's gaze was distant, fixed on some point beyond the rain-streaked window. "Or maybe he's the reason all of this started in the first place."
That night, before they parted, Sebastian took a moment to simply look at Aisyah, to truly see the weight she carried.
"I promise you, whatever we find, I will not let you face it alone."
Aisyah offered only a weak, fragile smile. "That's a promise that made me believe in you once."
Sebastian flinched, a small, almost imperceptible recoil, but he did not reply.
He knew—the old wounds between them were still raw, the scar tissue thin and fragile. But this, what they were facing now, was a beast far larger than their delayed love, their fractured trust.
When Aisyah returned home that night, she found a small, unmarked envelope slipped under her door. No return address.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, with a line of neat, precise handwriting:
"If you wish to know who Dr. A. Iskandar truly is, come to the basement archive room at 2 a.m. Come alone."
She clutched the note, the paper crinkling in her tight grip, her heart pounding a violent rhythm against her sternum.
From somewhere in the distance, the night wind carried the faint, ceaseless hum of the hospital's operating systems, a mechanical whisper that seemed to speak secrets only Aisyah was meant to hear.
(Part 2/4 – The Erased Trail)
The hospital was a tomb of silence that night. The corridor lights flickered softly, their glow seeming to be absorbed by the polished floor, which swallowed the sound of every footstep. Aisyah moved with a predator's caution, her soft-soled shoes whispering against the tiles, each tiny sound amplified in the profound quiet. The handwritten note in her pocket felt like a live wire, its message a siren call pulling her toward the basement archives.
The archive room was located in the lowest level, a part of the hospital that had fallen into disuse after the old systems were shut down. The heavy metal door groaned in protest as Aisyah pushed it open, holding her breath as she crossed the threshold. The air was thick with the smell of dust and decaying paper, a scent that clung to the back of her throat and created an atmosphere as heavy as the dread in her heart.
Inside, rows of towering shelves stood like silent sentinels, laden with files that held the history—and secrets—of decades. Aisyah moved through the narrow aisles, her eyes scanning the faded labels. Most were illegible, but one, in particular, snagged her attention—a dark blue folder, its spine marked: "Dr. Ahmad Iskandar – Experimental Drug Case 2004."
Her heart leapt into her throat. Her hands trembled as she pulled the heavy file from its resting place. The trembling intensified as she pried it open, the brittle pages crackling in the silence.
Inside were old records, official correspondence with the hospital board, and confidential reports that meticulously documented Dr. Ahmad Iskandar's every move before his disappearance twenty years prior. Aisyah turned page after page, each one pulling her deeper into a narrative she had never dared to imagine.
"Father… are you still out there?"
The thought was a silent scream in her mind.
But before she could delve further, the phone in her pocket vibrated. A message from Sebastian:
"Aisyah… be extra careful. The ethics officers are starting to review all my activity. Make sure you're in the clear before I have to go."
Aisyah's eyes widened. "In the clear? What do you mean?"
Sebastian's reply was swift:
"I might be taken in for temporary questioning. Just for helping you access the old archives. They think I've been stealing data."
Aisyah's mouth went dry. The professional peril they had been dancing around was now crystallizing into a terrifying reality. She had to move fast.
She closed the Iskandar file and quickly scanned a few other documents. But one item stopped her cold: a faded, black-and-white photograph, its edges softened by time. It showed a man standing with a young girl—a girl whose face was unmistakably a younger version of her own. On the back, in small, cursive writing: "Ahmad Iskandar & Puteri, 2003."
The air left Aisyah's lungs in a rush. That… was her.
She stood transfixed, lost in the image, trying to reconcile the face of the father she'd been told was gone with the fragmented stories her mother had shared through a veil of tears.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence. Aisyah jolted, swiftly hiding the file behind a stack of older ledgers on a lower shelf.
"Who's there?" a man's voice called out, raspy and suspicious.
Aisyah held her breath, her heart hammering so violently she was sure it could be heard. But no one appeared in the aisle; only the dancing shadows cast by the flickering lights played upon the walls.
She glanced at her phone. Another message from Sebastian:
"Get out. Now. I see ethics officers heading toward the archive wing. Don't speak to anyone. I'll try to divert them."
Gripping the file tightly, Aisyah crept toward the exit. But just as her hand touched the cold metal of the door, a loud voice from a walkie-talkie echoed down the hall, freezing her in place.
"Miss Aisyah! Report to the main nursing station immediately!"
She ducked down, counting the seconds, her body coiled tight with tension, until she saw the silhouette of an ethics officer appear at the far end of the corridor, his face stern in the stark overhead light.
Meanwhile, Sebastian was in the old IT office, his eyes fixed on a monitor displaying real-time file access logs. He watched with growing alarm as an alert flagged unauthorized access from the archive room terminal—precisely when Aisyah was there.
A moment later, a system warning flashed across the screen:
Unauthorized access detected. Reporting to Ethics Committee.
Sebastian swallowed hard. Their time was up. If the ethics committee traced the access back to its source, all their evidence could vanish, and he would be the one left holding the blame.
He activated a stealth data-copying program, transferring the most critical files to a hidden drive. Every time he heard the echo of an official's footsteps in the hall, his heart stuttered to a near halt.
Back in the archive, Aisyah managed to slip out undetected, but the frantic beat of her heart refused to calm. She clutched the Iskandar file to her chest as if it were a piece of her own missing soul.
Outside, a light rain had begun to fall, the droplets tapping a gentle, rhythmic pattern against the hospital windows, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos within her.
Yet, in the core of her being, the tension smoldered:
Who was Dr. Ahmad Iskandar now?
Why was his hospital account active again?
And most terrifying of all, would this unseen threat eventually claim her life, or Sebastian's?
That same night, Aisyah received another mysterious email from an untraceable sender:
"The trail you seek may not be meant to be found. Tread carefully, for every step you take is being watched."
Aisyah sat before her laptop, a cold fear seeping into her bones, yet her thirst for answers burned brighter than her terror.
She stared out the window at the persistent rain. One part of her hoped her father was alive, that he could finally provide the answers to the questions that had haunted her life. The other part feared that the truth might be a burden too heavy to bear.
And somewhere in the depths of the hospital, a shadowy figure stood watching from a distance, waiting for the perfect moment to step into the light.
(Part 3/4 – The Shadow That Keeps Secrets)
The next morning, the hospital was once again a symphony of hurried footsteps and the relentless beeping of monitors. Aisyah walked into the lecture hall with the file on Dr. Ahmad Iskandar concealed beneath her jacket, her heart still a frantic bird in a cage. Every face she passed seemed to scrutinize her, every glance felt like an accusation.
Sebastian was waiting in the cafeteria, staring into an untouched cup of coffee. His eyes reflected a deep-seated worry, not just for the looming ethics investigation, but for the monumental secret they now carried—a weight too great for either of them to bear alone.
"Aisyah…" his voice was soft as he looked up at her. "Are you alright?"
Aisyah nodded slowly, trying to project a calm she didn't feel. Yet, the fear was a cold stone in her chest. "I'm… I'm not sure, Sebastian. There's something in that file… something about my father. And I feel like we're being watched. Constantly."
Sebastian placed a hand over hers on the table, a gesture of solidarity. "We'll handle this together. We won't let anyone… or anything… come between us now."
They retreated to Aisyah's office, a space far from prying eyes, to examine the file in greater detail. Page by page, the old records and personal documents of her father began to paint a shocking picture.
A doctor's note: "2003 Experimental Drug Trial – reports missing after critical incident."
A formal letter to the hospital board: "Request for extended leave due to health and family reasons."
A police record: "Dr. Ahmad Iskandar suspected of medical misconduct, case closed after all leads went cold."
Aisyah bowed her head, tears welling in her eyes. "All this time… I thought he was gone, or guilty… but he was forced into hiding? To protect his patients?"
Sebastian squeezed her shoulder, his touch a gentle anchor. "I know… it's a lot to process. But you're not alone in this. I'm here."
Aisyah nodded, but her heart remained a tangled knot of fear and unanswered questions.
Before they could steady themselves, Sebastian's phone rang. The hospital ethics officer demanded his immediate presence in the interrogation room. With no time to strategize, they headed to the ethics office, the weight of the file feeling like a leaden burden.
There, they were met by the stern faces of the ethics committee. "Dr. Sebastian," the lead officer began, his voice devoid of warmth, "accessing the personal files of Dr. Iskandar is a serious violation. You must explain why this was done without authorization."
Sebastian swallowed, gathering his composure. "I… take full responsibility. But the access was necessary for patient safety and to uncover the truth about Dr. Ahmad Iskandar. This also involves his family member, Dr. Aisyah Iskandar."
The ethics officer eyed them both with suspicion, but before he could press further, Aisyah found her courage. "I am also responsible. I am Dr. Aisyah Iskandar, his daughter. I have a right to know the truth about my father. This isn't just personal—it's about understanding a medical history tainted by the mistakes of others."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone present understood that a significant secret was beginning to unravel, and that their actions, though against protocol, were driven by a compelling need for emotional and factual truth.
After leaving the interrogation room, Aisyah and Sebastian stood on the hospital balcony, looking out at the glittering city lights. The threat of the investigation still loomed, but they both felt a slight, hard-won sense of relief.
Aisyah looked down, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you… for always being by my side, even when I… keep my distance."
Sebastian held her hand, his expression serious yet tender. "You don't have to keep your distance anymore. I know how you feel, and I… feel the same. But we must be cautious. This secret isn't over. We can't be too open, not yet."
They looked at each other, and in that shared gaze, a deeper understanding began to bloom. The slow burn of their relationship, fraught with doubt and self-protection, was finally finding a more honest kindling—a connection that required no grand declarations, only mutual understanding and hard-earned trust.
Suddenly, Aisyah's phone rang again, the screen showing 'Unknown Caller'. She answered, and the voice on the other end froze the blood in her veins:
"You think you're safe, Aisyah? Dr. Ahmad Iskandar… your father… and all the secrets you're trying to uncover… they are still watching. Don't be so confident. The fire is lit, and you are standing right in the middle of it."
Aisyah's face went pale. Sebastian tightened his grip on her shoulder, his eyes scanning the dark hospital corridors around them. "We need to be ready… this is only the beginning."
Outside on the balcony, a shadowy figure observed them from a distance, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. The fire beneath the light was not just a symbol—it was a stark warning that the mysteries, conflicts, and hidden truths were far from over.
(Part 4/4 – Fire Beneath the Light)
The hospital was a vessel of silence that night, its usual sounds reduced to the intermittent beep of a distant monitor and the rare, echoing footstep of a night nurse. Aisyah and Sebastian stood in a dimly lit corridor, the physical weight of Dr. Ahmad Iskandar's file in their hands matched only by the crushing emotional burden it represented. Each step they took felt momentous, as if the shadows of the past were reaching out from every corner, their cold fingers brushing against the present.
"Aisyah… we can't wait any longer," Sebastian said, his voice a low, resolute murmur in the quiet. "Everything we've investigated… it's reached a critical point. We need to know the full truth, no matter the cost."
Aisyah drew a shaky breath, her gaze fixed on the worn folder. "I'm afraid, Sebastian. What if everything I'm searching for… is just an answer that will destroy what little I have left?"
Sebastian placed a firm hand on her shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Whatever it is, we face it together. I will not let you go through this alone."
They opened the file once more, this time with a grim determination. The old records and her father's personal documents began to coalesce into a staggering narrative. Dr. Ahmad Iskandar had not fled in guilt. He had been systematically framed and forced into hiding by a powerful faction within the hospital, a cabal that had orchestrated a failed medical experiment. He became a fugitive not from justice, but to protect the patients who would have been implicated and harmed by the full, unvarnished truth of the cover-up.
Aisyah slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face freely now. "All these years… I thought he had abandoned us, or was a criminal… but he was a victim? He was protecting people?"
Sebastian pulled her into a brief, tight embrace, his own voice thick with emotion. "I know… it's a devastating truth to bear. But you have to know, you are not alone in carrying it. I am here."
Before they could fully process this seismic revelation, Sebastian's phone buzzed insistently. The ethics officer demanded his immediate presence for a formal hearing. With no time to prepare a defense, they walked into the ethics office, the air crackling with tension.
The head officer's face was a mask of stern authority. "Dr. Sebastian, the unauthorized access of Dr. Iskandar's private files constitutes a severe breach. You must provide a full explanation for this violation."
Sebastian stood his ground, his posture straight. "I accept responsibility for my actions. However, that access was vital for understanding a historical cover-up that continues to impact this hospital's integrity. It also directly involves Dr. Aisyah Iskandar, his daughter and a member of this institution."
Before the officer could respond, Aisyah stepped forward, her voice clear and steady, belying the tremor in her hands. "The responsibility is mine as well. I am Dr. Aisyah Iskandar. Seeking the truth about my father is not merely a personal quest; it is a professional and ethical necessity to correct a historical wrong that has cast a long shadow over this hospital and the trust placed in it."
The room fell into a profound, heavy silence. The officials exchanged uneasy glances. They were no longer just dealing with a protocol violation; they were confronting a living, breathing scandal that threatened to crack the institution's foundation wide open. The moral imperative behind their actions was now undeniable, even if their methods were not.
Later, standing on the hospital balcony, the cool night air doing little to soothe their frayed nerves, Aisyah and Sebastian watched the city's lights shimmer like a bed of scattered stars. The immediate threat of suspension had been temporarily stayed, replaced by the looming specter of a much larger, more public fight.
Aisyah leaned against the railing, her voice soft with a vulnerability she usually kept guarded. "Thank you… for not letting me stand alone in there."
Sebastian wove his fingers through hers, his grip strong and sure. "You never have to stand alone again. I see you, Aisyah. All of you. And what I feel… it's only grown through all of this. But we must be smarter than they are. This secret has powerful guardians. We can't reveal our hand completely, not yet."
Their eyes met, and in that look, years of hesitation and unspoken words finally found their resolution. The slow, painful burn of their love, tempered in the fires of shared trauma and conspiracy, had forged a bond that was now unbreakable—a connection built not on fleeting passion, but on profound trust, mutual respect, and a shared mission.
Suddenly, Aisyah's phone shattered the moment, the screen flashing 'Unknown Caller' once more. She answered, and the voice that slithered into her ear turned her blood to ice:
"You think you're safe now that you've spoken your piece? Dr. Ahmad Iskandar… your beloved father… and the nest of vipers you've just stirred… they are not finished with you. Do not grow complacent. The fire is now an inferno, and you, my dear, are standing at its very heart."
Aisyah went rigid, her face a pale mask of dread. Sebastian pulled her close, his protective instincts on high alert, his eyes scanning the darkness of the surrounding hospital wings. "We need to be ready for anything now," he whispered, his voice grim. "This was just the opening move."
On a higher floor, looking down from a darkened window, a silhouetted figure observed their embrace. A faint, cold smile touched his lips. The "fire beneath the light" was no longer a metaphor; it was a reality. The mysteries had deepened, the conflict had escalated, and the final, devastating truth was still waiting in the shadows, poised to consume them all.