The hospital was eerily quiet as Nathalie and I stepped inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and disinfectant filling the air. The halls were nearly empty—only female nurses and doctors remained, their soft murmurs and the occasional beep of medical equipment breaking the silence.
Everyone else—male patients, visitors, staff—had already been evacuated from the fortress-like building, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with tension and urgency.
I approached the reception desk, my voice steady and authoritative. "Tyler's room. Which one is it?" The nurse behind the desk glanced up, her eyes flickering between Nathalie and me before she pointed down the hall. "Room 307. End of the corridor."
The hospital corridor stretched before us, its sterile white walls and the faint hum of medical equipment creating an atmosphere thick with tension.
