The hallway was chaos. Guards and staff wrestled the man to the ground, finally snapping handcuffs around his wrists.
Pressed against the cold tile, he still sneered.
"Even if you caught me today, it changes nothing. Palin—she won't live long anyway."
His words hissed like venom through the air.
Manida stormed forward, slapping him hard across the face and grabbing his collar.
"Shut up!"
People pulled her back.
The man was dragged away, leaving silence and the stench of fear behind.
Manida turned—and froze.
Palin was swaying, face ashen.
"Lin…?"
A thin line of blood slipped from Palin's lips.
She doubled over, coughing violently, crimson staining the floor like blooming roses.
"Palin!"
Manida caught her, tears spilling uncontrollably.
Her hands shook as she held her close, refusing to let go.
"I'm fine…" Palin gasped weakly, her tone still gentle, "Just… tired."
"You're lying!" Manida choked out. "You're—"
Palin raised her eyes with a faint smile.
"Mani, when you cry… you're still beautiful."
Her voice was soft but cut straight into Manida's soul.
Doctors rushed in, wheeling Palin back toward the ward.
Manida never let go of her hand.
As the bed rolled down the hallway, Palin's fingers brushed hers weakly.
"Mani…"
Manida leaned close, her voice trembling. "I'm here. I'm right here."
Palin's lips moved, as if to say something—but her eyes fluttered shut instead, sinking into unconsciousness.
That night, Manida sat by her bedside, silent tears falling again and again.
She took off her glasses and clenched them tightly in her palm.
"Lin, no matter how little time you have left… I won't let go."
Her voice was low, fractured—but unwavering.
Moonlight spilled across the bed, cold and white, draping the room like a shroud.
Palin's condition had entered its most dangerous stage—
And the truth behind the accident was only beginning to surface.
The night was far from over.
And the shadow of the ending was drawing near.