“My husband insisted that the girl was just pretending, until I secretly took her to have some tests done. When the doctor looked at the screen, he whispered trembling, ‘There is something alive inside the girl…,’ and my scream tore through the silence of the hospital.”

That moment shattered whatever doubt I had left.

The next afternoon, while Rajesh was still at work, I took her to St. Helena Medical Centre. She barely spoke during the drive, staring out the window with a distant expression I no longer recognized.

The nurse took her vitals. The doctor ordered blood tests and an ultrasound.
I waited, wringing my hands until they trembled.

When the door finally opened, Dr. Mehra walked in with a grave expression. He clutched the file tightly, as if the information inside weighed more than paper should.

“Mrs. Sharma,” he said quietly, “we need to talk.”

Anaya sat beside me on the examination bed, shaking.

Dr. Mehra lowered his voice.
“The imaging shows that there is something inside her.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“Inside her?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated—just for a second—but that hesitation said everything.

My stomach dropped. My heart pounded against my ribs. The room tilted, as if gravity had shifted.

My hands went numb.

“What… what is it?” I whispered.

Dr. Mehra exhaled slowly.
“We need to discuss the results privately. But I need you to prepare yourself.”

The air in the room grew thick.

Anaya’s face crumpled.