Ayan stood near the hospital bed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, guilt hanging on his every breath. His clothes were wrinkled, his shirt slightly untucked from a long night that had bled into the morning. Adya lay asleep, her face pale under the hospital lights, the soft hum of machines monitoring her vitals. The room was quiet, save for the occasional beep from the machines.
With calm eyes, Nargis stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through Adya's chart, while Haider, his old friend, stood by the window, watching Ayan closely. Ayan rubbed his face as if trying to scrub away the night, the drinks, and the conversation with Nitya.
Ayan's voice was thick, his throat dry. "Last night... with Nitya... we drank a lot," he admitted, his words slow, almost ashamed.
Haider, always the steady one, waved off the guilt. "Relax, man. We're here now." His voice was firm but understanding. "Go freshen up. Get your head straight. Focus on the case."
