The house was quiet—but not peaceful.
It was the kind of silence that came when too much had happened and no one knew what to say anymore.
They were all gathered in the hall.
Rana sat down heavily in his chair, the weight of weeks pressing down on his shoulders. Rajveer stood behind him, arms folded, the storm in his eyes barely restrained. Others lingered nearby, hearts filled with questions they didn't know how to ask.
Dr. Sinha finally stood.
His expression was composed, but his fingers curled slightly as if holding back tension. The air in the room was thick, waiting—expecting.
"The one I mentioned," he said, voice calm, "the master… he's on his way."
No one responded right away.
Rajveer's eyes flicked toward the door. "Will he… know what this is?"
Dr. Sinha gave a small nod. "He's not ordinary. He sees the world differently. He's helped people in places where logic fails."
Rana's voice was hoarse. "You trust him?"
"With my life," Dr. Sinha replied.
Silence settled again.
Each heartbeat in the room seemed loud. From down the hall, the faint mechanical hum from Riya's room seemed to echo louder than usual. Even in her stillness, she was at the center of every thought.
Just then, a breeze swept through the open window, carrying with it a strange scent—earthy, sharp, and unfamiliar.
Dr. Sinha glanced at the clock.
"He should be here any moment now."
No one moved. No one spoke. But a shift was coming—and they could all feel it.
A knock echoed through the silent house—soft, deliberate, yet it sliced through the tension like a blade.
Everyone turned toward the door. Rajveer moved first, almost cautiously, and opened it.
There he stood.
An elderly man standing quietly at the threshold. He looked to be in his late sixties, with a gentle stoop to his posture and a calm, unreadable expression. His grey hair was neatly combed back, and a thin pair of spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose. Dressed in a plain kurta and shawl draped over his shoulder, he looked like any retired professor or scholar—ordinary, almost forgettable.
But the moment he stepped inside, the air shifted.
His presence wasn't loud, but it was deeply felt—steady, composed, like someone who had seen far more than he ever said. He offered a polite nod to everyone before his eyes settled on Dr. Sinha.
"Master," Dr. Sinha greeted respectfully, stepping forward.
The Master gave a slight nod in return, his gaze quietly scanning the room. He didn't speak immediately.
The Master stepped inside slowly, taking in the room, his eyes pausing momentarily on each face. Vikram moved forward to greet him, respectful but cautious.
"Please, this way," Vikram said, guiding him toward the armchair near Rana.
The Master nodded and lowered himself into the seat with ease, his gaze quietly assessing the atmosphere around him.
One of the women approached with a tray of tea and refreshments.
The Master offered a gentle smile and shook his head. "Thank you, but I've had a long journey—I'd prefer we get to the matter at hand."
Then his eyes turned to Dr. Sinha, the warmth of old connection flickering in his expression.
"Well, boy," he said, calm and composed, "start from the beginning. No skipping."
Dr. Sinha gave a small nod, already bracing to relive everything.The house was silent, save for the soft creak of the wooden chair as Dr. Sinha slowly sat forward, his jaw tightening as he looked at Rana, as if seeking permission to relive the memory.
Rana gave a barely perceptible nod. His hand, resting on the armrest, gripped the carved wood.
"It was almost three months ago," Sinha began. "We had kept her on life support after the accident… because even though she was declared brain-dead, we weren't ready to give up. Her body… it held on longer than we expected. But one night…"
He paused. Vikram turned his face away. His eyes shimmered.
"…Her heart stopped."
A deep breath swept through the room like a chill.
"We did everything," Sinha said. "Defibrillators. Injections. CPR. For nearly ten minutes. I was there—I remember thinking this is it. That there was nothing left to try. And then…"
His voice wavered. "Then the monitor beeped."
The Master's eyes didn't move. "She came back."
Sinha nodded. "Her heart started beating again. But that wasn't the only thing."
Sinha's voice lowered. " After she was stabilized, We noticed something—something no one could explain. A scar. It appeared just above her chest. A deep, healed wound… like one left by a gunshot."
"You said a scar appeared?" the master asked, voice low and probing. "Just after her heart started again?"
Vikram nodded slowly. "Yes. A scar we hadn't seen before. Near her chest. Deep… like from a bullet wound. It looked fully healed, but Riya had never suffered such an injury before."
The Master tilted his head. "And this appeared the moment her heart resumed?"
Dr. Sinha replied, "Not a second before. The machines had flatlined. We tried everything, thinking we'd lost her. Then suddenly—there was a pulse. She came back. And that scar… it was just there. As if it had always belonged to her."
The Master's brows rose. He didn't speak immediately, eyes sharp with curiosity. Then, calm and curious, he asked, "Was there any anomaly? Anything you noticed when that scar appeared?"
Vikram finally spoke. His voice was quiet, distant, like he was pulling the memory from a fog. "It was strange… almost surreal. The moment her heart resumed its rhythm… it was like the room shifted. For a second, everything felt… suspended. Like time had folded on itself. The machines flickered. Lights dimmed just a bit. And when it passed with a faint glow it appeared. The scar. Clean. Healed. Impossible."
The Master leaned back, absorbing every word. "And her brain activity?"
Sinha nodded. "Returned to normal. Completely. As though… something had turned the lights back on inside her."
The Master's gaze flicked across the room. "All of this can be explained, perhaps—medical anomalies, rare recovery, surges of life. Except…" His voice lowered. "The scar. Why do you think something is wrong?"
Rajveer stepped forward, his voice steady but tinged with the weight of his knowledge. "Because I knew someone who had the exact same scar," he said, his eyes not leaving the Master's. "A girl named Shruti."
The Master's expression didn't change, but the air around them seemed to thicken with curiosity. "And who was she?"
Rajveer's gaze softened, his thoughts briefly drifting away. For a fleeting moment, his mind's eye captured a memory—a rare sight of his son Dhruv, smiling, the joy evident on his face when he spoke of her. The image lingered before he blinked it away, refocusing.
"She was my son's everything," Rajveer answered quietly, his voice steady but filled with an emotion that no one else in the room could miss.
The Master leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp and inquisitive. "How did you know about the scar? Have you seen it in person?"
"No, I never had the chance to meet Shruti in person," Rajveer began, his voice carrying a weight of knowledge. "But I've seen all her medical files. The scar—it was documented. It was the same as this one."
The Master asked, his tone calm but sharp, "How did Shruti acquire this scar?"
Rajveer's voice was steady, though tinged with a heaviness that only those who had seen too much could understand. "She got the scar while trying to save my son," he explained, his gaze distant as the memory unfolded in his mind. "She nearly died that day..."
The Master leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused. "When did this happen?" he asked, his voice steady but inquisitive.
Rajveer's gaze softened as he answered, his voice quieter now. "Eight years ago," he said, the weight of time carrying his words.
The Master's gaze sharpened. "Where is Shruti now?" he asked, his voice laced with a quiet urgency.
Rajveer's expression darkened, and a brief silence fell over the room. His eyes drifted to the ground as if searching for the right words.
"I last heard about her…" His voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of the past. "Seven years ago. She disappeared without a trace after that. We've searched everywhere, but there's been no sign of her since." He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "We've been living with the hope that she's well somewhere, but…" His voice faltered. "No one knows where she is."
The room felt colder with his words, the mystery of Shruti's disappearance hanging in the air like a dark cloud.
The Master leaned forward, his eyes still sharp and probing. "Was this the only thing that made you suspect something was wrong?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an underlying tension.
Everyone in the room exchanged glances, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Vikram took a breath before answering, his tone quieter now.
Vikram took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he recalled the troubling events. "Since the day Riya was rescued," he began, his voice calm but tinged with worry, "she started having random panic attacks. At first, we thought it was just the trauma, but they didn't stop. Sometimes, they're triggered by nothing at all, and other times, they come out of nowhere... almost like something is haunting her." He paused, looking around the room, his expression grim.
The Master's gaze never wavered as he absorbed Vikram's words. After a long pause, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low but firm. "Anything else? Anything else you've witnessed that was... out of the ordinary?"
His eyes scanned the room, waiting for the answer, the tension hanging thick in the air.
Vikram nodded slowly, his expression serious. "Today… for the first time, she responded to her surroundings," he said, his voice quieter than before, as if the weight of the moment was sinking in.
The Master tilted his head slightly, as if considering this new information. His voice was calm but probing. "Wasn't that a good thing?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Vikram's.
Vikram's voice trembled with emotion, the weight of the moment settling heavily on him. "It was… supposed to be a good sign," he said, his words thick with an undercurrent of disbelief. "But when she called out for Dhruv… that's when everything felt off. Riya barely knew him. They met only as kids—never had any real interactions after that. So why him?" He swallowed hard, his chest tight.
"She didn't call for her brother, her father, or her mother," Vikram continued, his voice breaking slightly. "She called for Dhruv. And it… it's hard to explain why, but that's what hit us the hardest."
The Master's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice calm but laced with intent. "Are you sure Riya and Dhruv were strangers to each other? That there was nothing between them, no connection, no secret history?"
Rajveer cut in before Vikram could say anything more. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of certainty. "No," he said, his eyes unwavering as he addressed the Master. "Riya and Dhruv were practically strangers. Dhruv was consumed with his love for Shruti. That was the only thing that mattered to him. There was nothing between them—nothing secret, nothing hidden. Riya and Dhruv had no connection like that."
His tone softened as he added, "Shruti was everything to him."
The Master leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused. "Anything else? Anything else you've witnessed that was out of the ordinary?"
Dr. Sinha's hands clenched slightly as he spoke, the memory still vivid in his mind. "All of these couldn't have been a coincidence," he said, his voice low, almost as if he were reliving the moment. "I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. So, I decided to test it."
He took a long pause, his gaze flickering to the others in the room before he continued, his tone heavier now. "I called her Riya... her name, the name she had lived with all her life. And there was no response. Not a movement. Not a sign of recognition. The silence in that moment was unbearable."
Dr. Sinha's voice wavered for a moment, before he pressed on, his expression haunted. "But then... I called her Shruti. Just her name. And something happened. Her fingers... they twitched."
His eyes dropped briefly, as though the memory still pained him. "It was so subtle, so small. But it was there. A twitch. A response. Like... like a faint spark of life that wasn't supposed to be there."
He exhaled slowly, his breath trembling slightly. "And in that moment, we knew. We knew something was terribly wrong. We weren't dealing with just a patient anymore. Something—someone—was there."