Limbo

"Ananya!" Ash dove into the now-charred room, taking a hold of Ananya.

She seemed to have been knocked unconscious by this blast, and when Ash cradled her in his arms, her eyelids fluttered, indicating that she was going to be alright.

Thiruvikraman, though dazed from the blast, had managed to regain his bearings. He stumbled to his feet, his head pounding and his ears still ringing. His first thought was of Ananya and her safety. He moved with urgency toward Room 412. The image of the explosion seared into his mind.

He blew a sigh of relief when he saw Ash by Ananya, but he knew that this could very well be the beginning.

Thiruvikraman's brow furrowed, his mind racing to make sense of the situation. "We can't stay here. It's not safe. There might be more danger lurking," he said, his tone urgent. "We need to evacuate the hospital and get everyone to safety."

As the dust settled and the alarms blared, Ash's focus turned to the room where Professor Stalin had been lying. The scene was one of devastation; the blast had thrown furniture, medical equipment, and debris around the room. Among the wreckage, Ash's heart sank when he spotted Stalin's hospital bed, now crumpled and broken.

"Stalin!" Ash's voice was a desperate cry as he rushed to the bed. The sight before him was heart-wrenching. Professor Stalin lay unconscious, his frail form battered by the blast's impact. His labored breaths were a stark contrast to how they met at the beginning.

Ananya, who was up, was in shock. She reached out to touch Stalin's hand, her eyes welling with tears. "We have to save him," she whispered, her voice trembling.

As medical personnel rushed in to tend to the injured, Ash refused to leave Stalin's side. His eyes were locked on the older man's face, searching for any sign of consciousness. The medical team worked with a sense of urgency, stabilizing Stalin's condition and preparing to transport him to the ICU.

Thiruvikraman was also standing by Stalin's side, helping him on to the stretcher that was brought in by the medical team.

Stalin's eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, and his gaze met Ash's. The effort it took to speak was evident on his pale and charred face, but he managed to summon his strength. "Ash, I tried to keep your secret," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "But this is the price I paid for it."

Ash was very confused and didn't know what Stalin meant. "What secret?" He asked, but Stalin wasn't in a state to respond. Stalin held out his frail hand, which Ash gently accepted, his heart heavy with guilt. Someone paid for his secret with their life, and he didn't even know why. That enraged him to no end.

Stalin's breathing grew shallower, and his eyelids began to droop. With a final, labored exhale, his hand went limp in Ash's grasp. The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of loss palpable.

"Bring in the Crash cart! We've got an individual who's coding!" The doctor's urgent voice cut through the room, snapping the medical team into action. Nurses rushed in with the crash cart, their faces a mixture of concern and determination.

The doctor, a seasoned professional with a stern but compassionate demeanor, assessed the situation quickly. "Clear the area," he ordered, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. The medical personnel moved aside, giving the doctor the space he needed to work.

The crash cart was rolled to the bedside, its contents laid out with precision. The doctor's gloved hands moved deftly as he attached electrodes and prepared to administer life-saving measures. The room was a symphony of organized chaos, a desperate bid to save a life hanging in the balance.

"Charging to 200. Stand clear," the doctor announced, his voice ringing with authority. The medical team backed away from the bed as the doctor positioned the defibrillator paddles. A tense silence settled over the room as the doctor's fingers hovered over the controls.

"Clear!" he called out, and with the press of a button, a surge of electricity coursed through Stalin's body. The room seemed to hold its breath, every eye trained on the monitor displaying Stalin's vital signs.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the monitor's beeping, the rhythm of life attempting to find its way back. The doctor's brow furrowed as he studied the readings, his mind calculating the next steps.

There was no sign of life yet. The doctor quickly took the defibrillator pads into his hands again.

"Charging to 250, stand clear! The doctor announced again, and everyone took a step back.

"Clear!" and a second surge of electricity jolted Stalin, and everyone watched the monitor with bated breath. Still nothing.

And then, in a sudden burst of activity, the monitor's rhythm began to shift. The blips on the screen grew more pronounced, the lines indicating a faint but discernible heartbeat. The doctor's lips curled into a mix of relief and determination.

"We've got a pulse," he declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a ray of hope. The medical team sprang into action, adjusting medications and monitoring equipment to stabilize Stalin's condition.

Ananya, who had been watching with bated breath, let out a shaky exhale. Ash's grip on her hand tightened, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Thiruvikraman stood nearby, his posture relaxing slightly as the tension in the room began to ease.

Stalin's vital signs slowly began to stabilize, the monitor's blips turning into a steady, albeit weak, rhythm. The medical team worked with a sense of purpose, ensuring that every measure was taken to provide the best chance of recovery.

"He's stabilizing," the doctor said, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and hope. "It's going to be a critical phase, but he's fighting."

Ananya could finally relax. For now, her dad was alive.

After trying to rest for a bit, Thiruvikraman, Ash, and Ananya now made their way to Rishi's room, where he was admitted to the IV.

"Doing better?" Ash asked Rishi, who was staring off into the distance.

"Yeah, you should probably tend to your wounds too. Rishi pointed it out.

"What wounds?" Ash asked Rishi, caught up in the confusion.

"Wait, didn't three people stab you in the alleyway during the fight, and you beat them? Now Rishi was confused too.

Thiruvikraman and Ananya exchanged confused looks. "Just what the hell happened?"

Ash removed his T-shirt, and to his horror, he saw three stab marks. One on his right arm, one on his torso, and another one on his abdomen. To everyone's surprise, though, all of the wounds had healed and just appeared to be old stab marks.

Thiruvikraman couldn't believe what he was seeing. He turned to Ash and asked him, "Care to explain this?"