The hospital felt too quiet that morning. Not calm. Empty, in a way that suggested absence, not peace. Nora walked through the corridors with measured steps, her badge swinging lightly at her side. The sound of her shoes against the polished floor seemed louder than usual, echoing through the sterile silence. Something had shifted, and she could feel it in her bones.
Inside the records office, the overhead lights flickered faintly. She moved straight to the main console, her fingers typing with precision. The system responded, but only with emptiness. Case B-17: no match.
She frowned, typed again.
Lily Keane: no results. Not even an error message. Not even a file name. It was as if Lily had never existed.
Nora stared at the screen, her heartbeat thudding just beneath her ribs. She didn't panic. Her hands didn't tremble. But deep inside, something coiled tight. Someone had accessed the system and erased the only record that tied everything together. Someone had seen her search logs. Someone had acted quickly, and with intent.
She exited the room quietly, eyes alert, posture controlled. The hallway outside was nearly empty. No one looked twice. No one whispered. But that only made her feel more exposed. When people stopped watching you altogether, it was because they already knew or they'd been told not to.
By midmorning, she stood outside the IT access room with her arms folded. She had sent only two words to Rowan: Come now. He arrived minutes later, slightly out of breath, wearing dark scrubs and a guarded expression. He didn't ask questions. He just followed her inside.
Once the door shut behind them, she turned to him. "The file's gone."
Rowan moved to the desk and began logging into the internal server. "You checked backup logs?"
"I checked everything. It's not just deleted. It's been overwritten. Like it was never there."
His fingers moved over the keys, navigating quickly through layers of secured data. The hum of the server filled the silence between them.
"Let me see if there's residual metadata," he muttered. Nora stepped aside and watched him work. His concentration was absolute.
After several minutes, the screen flickered with a result.
"I found something," he said quietly. "A fragment. It matches Lily's case tag, but it's encrypted with a high-level admin key. Not standard protocol."
Nora leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Can we trace who did it?"
Rowan nodded and entered a few commands. The access log loaded slowly, line by line.
"Last modification: three days ago," he said. "Archive Terminal A7. User ID: R. Cardinal."
Nora's blood went cold. She turned toward him slowly.
"You used that terminal?"
Rowan didn't look away. "Not since last year."
Their eyes locked across the screen. She didn't accuse him. Not out loud. But her silence carried weight.
His voice was calm, low. "Nora, I didn't do this."
She stepped back from the desk. Her pulse was racing now, though her expression didn't show it. "Someone used your ID. Or someone wanted it to look like you did."
"I want to help," Rowan said, stepping forward. "Whatever this is, we can figure it out."
Nora kept her gaze on the screen. The cursor blinked in the empty command bar. "You said that before. But the closer I get, the more things vanish. And now, the only file that connects Lily to this place is encrypted under your name."
The silence that followed was no longer professional. It was personal. Heavy. Rowan looked at her, his voice soft but firm.
"Then let me be here when it breaks open."
She didn't answer. Her eyes drifted toward his hand resting on the desk beside hers. Close, but not touching. She almost leaned forward. Almost. But something held her back.
Outside the room, footsteps echoed. A nurse passed by, then a voice called someone's name. It was enough to snap her out of it. She reached for her badge and shut the terminal.
"I have to go."
Rowan didn't stop her. He didn't protest.
"I'll keep digging," he said.
She gave a single nod and slipped out of the room without looking back. Her footsteps were silent, but her mind was a storm.
Whoever had done this wasn't trying to hide the truth. They were trying to erase it completely.
And if they had access to the system, to usernames, to her past…
Then maybe they already knew what she'd do next.
The hospital floor felt different when Nora stepped out again. The corridor, usually alive with hushed voices and the rhythmic pulse of machines, was now a stretch of silence wrapped in fluorescent light. She moved on autopilot, nodding once to a nurse passing by, but her thoughts weren't with her steps. They were still in that room. Still tangled in Rowan's voice, in the heat of the moment they hadn't dared cross.
She didn't trust herself to stop moving. Not now. Not with her hands still trembling from the almost.
By the time she reached the fourth floor observation bay, her body was moving out of habit more than intent. She checked on a patient, adjusted a dosage, smiled briefly at a tired mother leaning against the windowsill. She said the right words. She gave the right reassurances. But everything felt like it belonged to someone else. A different version of her. One who hadn't seen a lie buried in hospital archives. One who hadn't almost touched truth in a break room humming with electricity.
Hours passed that way quietly, precisely. The sun shifted outside, painting the windows gold and pink before falling into shadow. Night came without asking permission, and Nora found herself again at her desk, the screen in front of her blank, her reflection staring back from the darkened glass.
She didn't know what she expected when she typed the name one more time.
Keane, Lily.
No results.
She leaned back slowly, dragging a hand through her hair. She didn't cry. She hadn't for years. But the ache that built in her chest had the weight of something that had tried too long to stay buried.
Her phone buzzed once. A message.
Just two words.
Come up.
No name. But she didn't need one.
It was Rowan.
She almost deleted it without reading. Almost shut everything off and buried herself in sleep. But something in those two words plain, direct, familiar pulled her to her feet. She moved without answering. Without thinking.
The elevator was slow. It always was. As it climbed, she tried to steady her heartbeat, to find a breath that didn't stutter.
When the doors opened, she found him outside the research wing, leaning against the wall near the windows. He didn't turn when he heard her footsteps. Just waited.
She came to stand beside him, watching the city lights flicker below. Neither of them spoke.
Then, without looking at her, he said, "They're trying to erase her."
Nora didn't answer. Not immediately. The pain in her throat was too tight.
Rowan continued, "I found two more fragments. Nothing usable yet, but they match her file structure. Someone's trying to wipe everything clean. From inside."
She looked at him then, studying the lines of his face, the weight behind his words.
"You knew her," she said quietly. Not a question. A realization.
Rowan didn't deny it.
"I was there," he admitted. "Not just as an intern. I was part of the case. I remember her laugh. I remember how scared she was, and how no one listened when she said something felt wrong. I wanted to help. I tried. But I didn't know enough then. And when it was over, they told me to keep my mouth shut. For the hospital. For my future. For everything."
Nora's eyes burned, but her voice stayed level.
"So you buried it?"
"I buried it," he repeated. "Because they made it easy. Because I was young. Because I didn't think anyone would come looking."
She stepped back, needing space, needing air.
"And now?" she asked, her voice sharper than she wanted.
"Now I'm not that person anymore," Rowan said. "Now I'm the one who found the person who could tear it all down. You."
That stopped her.
He turned finally, facing her fully.
"You don't have to trust me," he said. "I'm not asking for that. But I won't let them erase her again."
Nora looked at him. Really looked. Past the secrets. Past the past.
And for the first time, she didn't see just the intern. Or the liar. Or the man caught in something bigger than both of them.
She saw someone who hadn't stopped caring. Even when it was easier to forget.
She took a breath.
And then another.
"We find the truth," she said, her voice low. "Together."
Rowan didn't smile.
But something in his eyes softened.
The wind outside picked up, brushing against the windows with a whisper like breath.
And beneath the hospital's quiet, something stirred.
Something real.