INT. HOSPITAL – OUTSIDE ICU-3 – NIGHT
The hallway is silent. Only the low hum of machines fills the background.
Mahi walks slowly toward ICU-3, her heart conflicted — not with love, but with old wounds that never healed.
Outside the sealed door stands Mishri,
(Mishri is a master of emotional camouflage — elegant, composed, and dangerously perceptive. She moves through rooms like smoke: never loud, never clumsy, but impossible to ignore. On the surface, she's soft-spoken, graceful, and well-mannered — the kind of woman people trust instantly. But beneath that polished exterior lies a mind that's always calculating, always one move ahead.
She's not evil — but she's deeply possessive, obsessive, and silently competitive when it comes to what (or who) she wants. Especially Ahaan.
Mishri is the kind of person who would rather manipulate than confront, plant doubt rather than expose truth, and let her silence do more damage than her words. She understands human emotion too well — especially fear, love, and guilt — and she uses them like tools).
She poised and graceful, dressed in a crisp white blouse and long rust-colored shawl. Not a single crease in her presence.
MAHI (surprised but sharp):
"Mishri?"
MISHRI (smiling politely):
"Dr. Mahi Shaikh. Still so sharp. Still so… cold."
MAHI (tight smile):
"Still pretending?"
Mishri chuckles softly.
MISHRI (measured):
"Oh no. Not pretending. Not anymore."
(beat)
"You don't need to pretend either. We both know why you're really here."
MAHI (firm):
"I'm his doctor. That's it."
MISHRI (with mock sympathy):
"Doctor now… but not always.
There was a time when you were the mission.
And he was the spy."
Mahi's expression tightens — old pain rising, shame flickering behind her calm.
MAHI:
"You don't need to remind me.
I know exactly who he was… and why he came into my life."
MISHRI:
"Do you, though?"
Mahi doesn't answer.
Mishri steps forward, lowering her voice, pressing in.
MISHRI (sweetly cruel):
"You were never more than a job to him, Mahi.
He told me everything.
How he faked the name… the injury… the timing.
How he let you fall for him, just to get close enough."
MAHI (quiet, broken):
"He said he loved me."
MISHRI (coldly):
"He said what he had to say.
You were a target.
But… he failed.
He couldn't kill you.
And that was his greatest weakness."
Mahi blinks rapidly. Her breath hitches.
MAHI (shaken):
"So he never loved me…? Not even for a second?"
MISHRI (tilting her head):
"Oh sweetheart…
Ahaan only ever loved one person these past four years."
She steps back, brushing her fingers across the glass window of the ICU room.
MISHRI:
"Me."
Mahi's face hardens — but it's laced with something deeper now. Hurt. Doubt.
MAHI (stiff):
"You live together?"
MISHRI (softly, with a smirk):
"Have been… for four years.
You left him.
And he never came looking.
Ask yourself why."
A pause. Mahi swallows.
MAHI (barely audible):
"Because he never loved me…"
Mishri gives her a sweet, victorious smile.
MISHRI (whispered):
"Now you understand."
She walks past Mahi, slowly, heels clicking down the hall — a quiet exit soaked in triumph.
Mahi turns slowly toward the glass, gazing in at Ahaan's still body.
The man who once held her heart.
The man who once whispered forever.
The man she believed used her.
Tears brim in her eyes — but not because she loves him.
Because she once did.
And she hates herself for it.