The corridor outside the ICU had fallen eerily quiet. Only the occasional shuffle of nurses and the distant echo of beeping machines reminded Aagartha that she was still inside a hospital.
That Ms. Choudhary was no longer in her room.
That someone she never imagined she'd grieve for — was now just... gone.
She stood there frozen for a long moment, eyes fixed on the hospital floor tiles as if they'd rearrange themselves into answers.
Her hands were cold, fingers trembling slightly, even though she had performed countless emergency procedures without a blink.
But today... this felt different.
Aagartha had known Ms. Choudhary for only a month, but in that time, something had shifted.
From patient to presence.
From stranger to something dangerously close to mother.
She wasn't supposed to care this much.
Doctors weren't supposed to.
But rules didn't apply to people like Ms. Choudhary.
---
Once, she had ruled the SSD empire with fire in her eyes and ice in her voice. A business legend.
A name.
A shadow.
And yet when Aagartha first met her, she found a woman broken by life.
By loss.
By guilt she carried like a second skin — the death of her son and daughter-in-law.
There were days when Aagartha would sit with her even after her shift ended.
Ms. Choudhary would speak in half-truths, sometimes mistaking Aagartha for someone else.
Sometimes whispering things about past lives, keys, and promises made under cherry blossoms.
She would laugh, cry, and once even held Aagartha's hand like she had known her forever.
And Aagartha… she never pulled away.
It didn't feel professional.
It didn't feel safe.
But it felt right.
---
Now, she was gone.
And something inside Aagartha had cracked open.
---
The elevator ride from the third floor to the ground felt like an eternity.
Aagartha leaned against the wall, trying to hold her breath still.
Even the hum of the elevator motor sounded tired, like the world had slowed down out of respect.
She closed her eyes.
> "She doesn't understand... she doesn't see it yet!"
"Tell her—it's starting again!"
Those final words echoed in her head. Over and over.
She clutched the key in her coat pocket — the one Ms. Choudhary gave her moments before taking her last breath.
The one she said not to open until Aagartha turned 28.
She was 28 yesterday.
---
The elevator doors slid open.
But Aagartha didn't head to her car.
She didn't even think about home.
Instead, her feet took her across the back exit of the hospital, past the vendors, past the parking lot, and into the older side-streets behind SSD.
Somewhere along those rain-kissed lanes, stood a place she had only heard about.
A place Ms. Choudhary used to mention with the softest smile she had.
> "There's a café... old, dusty, forgotten. But it holds memories that don't fade.
I spent the best years of my life there, Aagartha.
If you ever go... you'll know why."
---
It was the first time she had come looking for it.
She didn't know why today.
Didn't know how her feet found the path so easily.
Maybe grief made her wander.
Or maybe the key in her pocket was heavier than she realized.
And then she saw it.
---
There, behind a twisted alley veiled in creeping vines and tangled bougainvillea, stood a weathered wooden sign.
It hung just slightly tilted, as if time had pulled it down over the years — but the words were still clear.
"COFFEE & COCAINE"
Painted in fading cherry-red.
A large scarlet clock hung above the entrance, vines wrapped around it like they were keeping time frozen.
A narrow glass window peeked out beside the door, revealing books stacked from floor to ceiling — a library inside a café.
It didn't feel like stepping toward a building.
It felt like stepping into a memory.
Aagartha froze.
Her heart thudded against her chest.
This was the place.
The one from her dreams.
The flashes.
The visions that didn't belong to her.
> How do I remember this?
Why does it feel like I've been here... but not in this life?
She clutched the key tighter.
Voices in her head argued silently.
> You should go in.
No, turn around.
You're not ready.
But you're meant to be here.
And then… her lips moved before her mind could catch up.
> "This is where I spent the happiest moments of my life."
Her eyes widened.
She hadn't meant to say that.
She didn't know she had ever said that.
But it had come out with so much certainty — like her soul had spoken instead.
---
Just then, a single raindrop kissed her forehead.
She looked up.
The clouds had gathered silently.
Small droplets began to fall — not heavy enough to soak, but enough to blur her vision.
She held the key tighter.
Lifted her coat hood.
And ran.
Toward the café.
Toward the truth.
Toward a version of herself she was just beginning to remember.