Peace returned to Noor General Hospital—or so it seemed.
Since Dr. Areeba's curse was lifted, the air had become lighter. Machines functioned properly. No more mysterious deaths. No more shadows creeping in the dark.
Patients smiled again.
And for the first time, Zahra slept soundly.
But peace can be deceptive.
Because healing a wound doesn't mean the infection is gone.
It was two weeks after Arif woke from his coma.
He was still adjusting. Walking again. Breathing in the air he had once believed lost forever.
The hospital celebrated his return. Doctors welcomed him back with open arms, unaware that he had walked through the veil of death and returned.
Only Zahra knew the full truth.
She and Arif had grown closer. Their bond was no longer limited to dreams or distant glances—it was real. Tangible.
But deep in the hospital's forgotten basement, something stirred.
Something darker than Areeba's soul.
It began with a whisper.
One of the janitors, Uncle Kareem, was found unconscious at the foot of the basement stairs. When he woke up, he mumbled strange things.
"She's still there… Not the woman… The man."
Zahra sat by his bedside in the ER.
"What, man, Uncle Kareem?"
His eyes widened. "He wears white. But his eyes… they're hollow. And his voice—it's like ten men speaking at once."
"Where did you see him?"
He pointed down.
"The morgue."
That evening, Zahra told Arif.
He frowned. "There's nothing in the morgue. That wing was shut after the fire. Too damaged."
"Exactly. So why are people seeing things?"
Zahra remembered the last line in Areeba's diary.
"I opened the door… but something else stepped through."
They decided to investigate.
Late at night, they descended into the basement. Dust lined the stairs. The power flickered. Pipes hissed above them. The air felt wrong.
The door to the old morgue groaned open.
Inside, time had frozen.
Steel drawers lined the wall. A broken autopsy table lay at the center. Burn marks covered the floor. A shattered mirror hung crookedly.
Zahra held her flashlight steady. Arif, walking beside her, tensed.
Then they heard it.
Footsteps.
But no one was there.
The flashlight blinked.
And suddenly, the mirror showed something different—
Not their reflection, but a man in a white doctor's coat standing behind them.
Zahra turned.
Empty.
She looked back.
Now the man in the mirror was smiling.
Arif grabbed her arm. "Let's go."
They ran out of the morgue and didn't stop until they reached the main corridor.
Zahra gasped for air.
"That… wasn't human."
Arif nodded, his face pale. "That wasn't a ghost."
"Then what was it?"
"A jinn," he said grimly. "And not just any jinn. Something powerful. Bound to this place."
Zahra whispered, "It came through the same door Areeba opened, didn't it?"
Arif nodded. "She tore the veil between worlds. That spirit may be gone—but the door is still open."
The next day, Zahra consulted an Islamic scholar—Mufti Rafiq—who had helped with spiritual clearances before.
When she described the morgue incident, he grew serious.
"Some places become portals. Especially hospitals, where death is frequent. If someone performed rituals to cross the boundary between life and death, they may have invited something ancient."
He gave her verses from the Qur'an for protection—Ayat-ul-Kursi, Surah Al-Baqarah, and specific ruqyah prayers.
"But," he warned, "you must not confront it unless absolutely necessary. These beings feed on fear. They deceive. They can mimic the dead."
That night, Zahra had another dream.
She stood in the morgue.
The man in the mirror smiled.
Then he said, in Arif's voice:
"Zahra, come closer."
She took a step forward.
Then another.
He held out his hand.
Suddenly, something grabbed her from behind.
She turned—Arif.
The real one.
"Don't touch him!" he shouted.
The man in the mirror hissed and vanished into black smoke.
Zahra woke up screaming.
She ran to Arif's room in the doctor's quarters.
He opened the door, eyes wide. "You saw him, didn't you?"
She nodded, her voice shaking. "He looked like you."
Arif's jaw clenched. "He's growing stronger. He's not just hiding anymore—he's testing you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the one who can see."
The next day, strange things began happening again.
A nurse went missing for three hours, only to be found inside an elevator shaft, mumbling in a forgotten language.
An elderly patient screamed every night at exactly 2:17 a.m., saying, "The white coat man is watching me."
Security cameras caught flickering images—never clear, always distorted. But the shape of the man in white kept appearing near the morgue.
The hospital board wanted to shut the lower wing.
But Zahra knew that wouldn't stop it.
They had to seal the door completely.
Mufti Rafiq gave her instructions for a spiritual sealing:
A recitation of Surah Al-Baqarah in full
Sprinkling of Zamzam water and salt in all four corners
A circle of black seeds and white chalk
Continuous Adhaan playing during the process
But most importantly:
"You need the one who walked between the worlds," he said.
Zahra understood. He meant Arif.
He had crossed over. He had felt the other side. His soul was still slightly connected.
The next night, they prepared.
She and Arif, alone, entered the morgue one last time.
Zahra began reciting Al-Baqarah.
Arif poured Zamzam water around the room.
As the verses continued, the mirror began to bleed black liquid.
And from within it… came a scream.
Then the man appeared.
No longer just in the mirror—he stepped out of it.
Seven feet tall.
Eyes pitch black.
Mouth stitched shut with fire.
He rushed toward Zahra.
Arif stepped between them, shouting, "Allah-u-Akbar!"
The jinn paused.
Then hissed.
Arif shouted again, louder this time, "Laa ilaaha illaa Anta, Subhaanaka, inni kuntu minaz-zalimeen!"
The being shrieked, retreating.
Zahra recited the last ayah of Surah Al-Baqarah.
The room exploded in light.
A gust of wind slammed the mirror shut.
Then silence.
It was over.
The next morning, the hospital was quiet.
Not eerie—peaceful.
A warm light filtered through the windows.
Zahra sat in the cafeteria, sipping tea.
Arif joined her.
"It's sealed," he said softly.
"For now," she replied.
"You think it'll return?"
She looked out the window. "Evil always finds a way. But so does good."
He smiled. "You sound like a healer."
She turned to him. "Maybe I've learned from the best."
They both laughed.
And for the first time in a long while, Zahra didn't feel afraid.
Because now, she wasn't alone.
She had seen death.
Faced darkness.
And survived.
Together.