Ayan jogged down the sterile hospital hallway, his shoes echoing off the linoleum floor. His heart raced, fueled by urgency and confusion. As he approached the glass door at the end of the hall, it slammed shut with a sharp clack.
On the other side stood Shaiyla, her face twisted in agony, clutching her cheek where blood trickled through her fingers. The shattered remnants of the vase glistened on the floor beneath her. Her eyes locked onto Ayan's, a mix of fury and pain swirling in them.
Ayan yanked on the door, his hands slipping slightly as frustration mounted. It wouldn't budge.
"Adya!" he shouted, panic rising in his voice. "Hey, hey!" He banged on the glass, but there was no response from the other side. The room beyond the door was eerily silent.
