The fragile calm shattered just as dawn touched the hospital windows.
Pearl and Vansh woke to frantic nurses and whispered alarms.
"Mayra's gone," a nurse said, voice trembling.
Pearl's heart stopped. "What?"
Vansh eyes narrowed, tension snapping back into his stance.
They rushed to the empty room—Mayra's bed stripped bare, no sign of struggle.
A chilling silence settled.
Pearl's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of dread:"She's disappeared."
Vansh clenched his fists."This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
Outside, the storm had returned—dark clouds rolling in like a warning.
The game was far from finished.
Vansh stood at the doorway of the empty hospital room, staring at the spot where Mayra had been just hours ago. The silence was deafening, but his voice broke through it—steady, sure.
"We'll always be prepared for anything," he said, turning to Pearl.
She looked shaken, eyes still searching the room like Myra might reappear at any second.
"But she lost her memory, Pearl," Vansh continued. "We have that on our side. Whatever she's walking into now... she's not the same person who tried to destroy us."
Pearl crossed her arms, her voice tight. "But what if she remembers? What if it all comes back?"
Vansh stepped closer, gently taking her hand."Then we face it. Together. Like always."
He held her gaze."We're not the victims anymore. We're the ones writing the story now."