Chapter 8: A Glimpse of the past
The next morning was peaceful — almost too peaceful.
Birds chirped outside. The city hadn't yet begun screaming. And in the warm little apartment, Karma stood barefoot in the kitchen, flipping parathas with the ease of a man who could kill and cook with the same hands.
Asha rushed out of the bedroom, still half-asleep, pulling her bag over one shoulder.
"I'm late," she muttered. "So late. I'll eat at the hospital."
"You forgot your lunch," Karma said.
Asha froze, then looked back, apologetic.
He gave her a smile — gentle, understanding. "I'll bring it to you."
She blinked. "No, you don't have to—"
But Karma had already wrapped the lunchbox.
Hospital Grounds – 12:44 PM
Karma walked through the corridors like a ghost in plain sight. White walls, pale lighting, distant beeping machines — none of it unsettled him.
It all felt… oddly familiar.
He passed nurses. Orderlies. Young interns rushing with clipboards. Patients groaning faintly in rooms left half open.
Then he saw her — Asha — sitting on a bench outside the training lab, surrounded by books and notes.
*Human Biology: Trauma & Nervous Systems.*
She was highlighting something and chewing the back of her pen.
Karma walked up quietly and placed the lunchbox beside her.
Asha looked up, startled, then smiled. "You actually came?"
"I said I would."
She gestured at the empty bench space. "Sit. Just for a minute."
Five Minutes Later
A sharp cry rang out from inside the hallway.
A nurse burst out, panicked. "Dr. Menon! Someone, please—one of the post-op patients isn't responding right—!"
Karma stood immediately. Asha was about to follow, but Karma's eyes were already locked on the woman's voice.
He stepped into the room.
A patient in his mid-40s was breathing abnormally, sweating, pupils dilated.
The young intern beside him was fumbling.
Karma spoke calmly:
"He's not rejecting meds. He's going into neurogenic shock. Tilt his head slightly left, elevate his legs, regulate fluid flow."
Everyone turned to him.
Asha's eyes widened.
The intern muttered, "W-who the hell are you?"
But Karma had already moved. His hands worked with sharp, practiced control — not guessing, not unsure.
Precise.
Correct.
The patient's breathing slowly stabilized.
The nurse stared. "How did you…?"
Karma looked down at his hands again.
"I don't know."
Outside
Asha pulled him aside, away from the staring staff.
"You diagnosed that faster than any first-year doctor."
"I just knew what to do."
Asha stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time.
"You're not just a fighter," she whispered. "You're… something else."
Karma looked up at the hospital building.
"I don't know who I was," he said quietly.
"But I think I was built for more than just hurting people."
"When a man forgets who he is, the truth doesn't vanish — it just finds new ways to show itself."