"Where did that woman and the child go?" one of the men demanded. His voice carries a hint of frustration.
"Look, sir, we can't share any information without proper verification. And if you try to misbehave, we'll have no choice but to call the police," the nurse replies firmly, standing her ground.
[In the hospital hallway, four men stand arguing with two female nurses, their voices sharp with impatience. But from the look of it, the staff has no intention of revealing anything.]
"Please show us your ID," the nurse says again, holding her tone steady. "If you really have any relation to them, we'll inform you who signed their discharge papers."
"Leave them. They're useless to us—they don't know anything," one of the men mutters, irritation evident in his voice. "We just need to find that girl, and then the woman will follow. Before she creates any more trouble for us."
"Maybe you're right," their leader agrees after a pause. Without another word, the group turns and walks away, their footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Around the hallway, other staff members—doctors, a compounder, and even the security guard—watch the scene quietly, tension hanging in the air.
…...
Amraha sits on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall as if trying to piece her thoughts together. Her phone suddenly buzzes, breaking her chain of silence. She glances at the screen and answers the call immediately.
"Good evening, ma'am," comes a polite voice.
"Good evening," she responds calmly.
After a brief exchange of greetings, the conversation shifts to the real matter at hand.
"As you expected, they came," the doctor reports in a low tone. "They created a scene and tried hard to question everyone about the woman's whereabouts. None of the staff gave them any information. They don't know how she got out, but they're determined to find out."
"I know," Amraha says quietly, her voice carrying an edge of worry. "They'll come for me first. And even if they don't suspect me now, the moment I file the case, they'll realize everything. It's only a matter of time."
You are right! Mam.
"Thank you, doctor," she adds after a pause. "You've given me enough information. But under no circumstances can they find out how we did this… or who I am?. My identity must stay hidden. That's the most important thing."
Ok mam! I try my best to dooo.....
"Any thing for you" .
....
"I think we should tell the head everything," one of the men says nervously, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "If that woman talks, or worse, gets help from the police, this whole mess will fall back on us."
"Shut up,"
another snaps, leaning forward, his tone sharp like a knife. "That's not going to happen. We'll find the girl first, and then kill them all—the woman, the child, and the girl. If we tell the boss now, we'll all be dead men. You know what he does to people who fail him. He leaves no trace. Do you understand? He'll wipe out the entire village if he has to."
"But… what if we inform sir Watson?" another voice suggests cautiously. "At least then, he can handle this before things get worse."
The four men sit around a wooden table, each lost in his own fear. Their faces are tense, worry etched deep into their expressions. But it's the head of the group who looks the most shaken, as if death itself is staring him in the face.
"head, what if the girl isn't even involved?" a younger man ventures hesitantly. "What if the woman just ran away on her own?"
All eyes turn to him for a brief moment, then shift away. No one speaks. Silence seeps back into the room like a thick fog, wrapping around their thoughts.
Finally, the head slams his fist on the table. "We need to check the hospital footage," he declares, his voice rising with sudden urgency. "That woman didn't leave on her own—someone helped her. We need to know who."
"And how do you plan to get into the hospital?" one man mutters bitterly. "You think they'll just hand over the footage?"
"There's a way," the head says coldly. "There's always a way."
…...
"Good evening, ma'am. If you'd called us, we would've come straight to you,"
The police officer says warmly as Amraha steps into his office. He rises from his chair out of respect, a courtesy few ever receive.
"How are you?" he asks, motioning for her to sit.
"I'm fine,"
Amraha replies with a polite nod as she takes the seat.
The officer picks up his phone and orders two cups of tea before turning back to her. "So, what brings you here, ma'am?"
"I need to file a case," Amraha says firmly. "And I'll need your full support. In fact, I want your best team on this. It needs to be done thoroughly and without mistakes." Her tone leaves no room for doubt as she begins explaining the details, laying out everything with careful precision.
The officer listens, brows drawn together. "We weren't aware of anything like this," he admits. "But don't worry. We'll investigate the entire area. This matter will be handled."
"Thank you, sir,"
Amraha says, her voice steady but her eyes glinting with determination. "I'm sure this will be resolved soon. If you need my cooperation at any point, let me know. Once the arrests are made, I'll handle the case personally in court."
With that, she rises and walks out of the office, leaving behind a trail of quiet authority.
The constable who had brought with the tea. glances at his senior. "Sir, when do we leave for the site?" he asks, curiosity lacing his words.
The officer leans back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "Probably tomorrow. Sounds like some local thugs trying to throw their weight around. I'll take a couple of constables with me and sort it out." His tone is calm, almost dismissive.
"But, sir," the constable insists, frowning slightly, "if this was something small, Asahi Sahib's daughter wouldn't have come here herself. He would've just called and asked for a routine check."
The officer waves a hand dismissively. "You think too much. If it was serious, the word would've spread by now. This is probably some illegal settlement. Maybe the land is under dispute. Worst case? We'll collect a nice little compensation for clearing it up. Don't worry—I'll handle everything myself."
The constable doesn't look convinced. His face is still shadowed with unease, while the officer's smile lingers, almost as if he knows more than he's saying.
.......
"Police in the hospital…"
one of the staff members murmurs under his breath as he watches four uniformed officers enter through the main gate. Their boots strike the marble floor in unison, authority echoing in every step. At the front walks a senior officer—tall, sharp-eyed, and radiating authority.
Without wasting a second, he strides to the reception counter, his voice firm and commanding as he addresses the young woman standing there.
"We've received a complaint about your hospital's security," he says, his tone like cold steel. "People go missing from here, and no one seems to know how—or where—they go. Whether they leave on their own… or someone makes them disappear."
"Sir, you must be mistaken," the receptionist replies, trying hard to keep her voice steady. "Everyone here is responsible and performs their duties sincerely."
The officer leans forward, his eyes drilling into hers. "A woman vanished from this hospital yesterday. And you have no record of her?"
The receptionist swallows hard. "Sir, she didn't vanish. She was discharged. Her family took her home."
"Show me the record," the officer orders curtly.
The receptionist immediately turns the computer screen toward him, pulling up the discharge file. A document appears on the screen, complete with the woman's photograph. "Here it is, sir."
"This woman… she was being treated here?" the officer asks, his voice sharp.
"Yes, sir. She was discharged by her family."
"Idiots!"
The officer's voice explodes in fury, making the receptionist flinch. "I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about the woman and her child—the child who was undergoing treatment here! Both disappeared yesterday. Who got them out?!"
The color drains from both the receptionist's and her colleague's faces. Their silence speaks louder than words.
"It seems you people won't talk so easily," the officer mutters, straightening up. "Where is the security room?"
Without waiting for a response, he storms down the corridor, his heavy boots echoing ominously as he heads to the basement where the CCTV control room is located. Only two officers follow him inside—the senior officer himself and a junior by his side. The remaining two stay posted near the reception.
Inside the dimly lit security room, the guard fumbles nervously as the officer commands,
"Show me last day's footage. Every second of it."
The guard's hands tremble slightly as he rewinds the footage to the previous evening. The screens flicker with scenes of hospital corridors—nurses walking past, cleaning staff pushing carts, boxes being moved, orderlies talking in hushed tones. The senior officer studies the monitors intently, his jaw tightening.
"When did the child vanish? Where?" he asks, his eyes never leaving the screens.
Before the guard can respond, a voice speaks from behind. Calm. Firm.
"Sir, I've been trying to tell you from the start," says the hospital administrator, stepping in with a rehearsed politeness. "No child went missing from here. Whoever gave you this information was misinformed. In fact, I showed your officers all the discharge details. There was no child admitted under that description. Someone has wasted your time."
The junior officer leans closer to his senior, whispering, "Sir, I checked the computer myself. There's no record of any child."
The senior officer stares at the screens for another long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he straightens up.
"Let's go."
Without another word, the officers leave.
As the door closes behind them, the guard exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging in relief. The receptionist, who had been holding her breath, did the same. A shaky laugh escapes the guard as he slaps his colleague's palm in a silent high-five.
"Thank God," he whispers. "The doctor told us to wipe every trace—and we did. Not a single clue left behind."