I had to stay in the hospital for over a month after breaking my leg following an accident. A government hospital in New Delhi was bustling during the day, but at night it was eerily quiet. I was in a private room, only the hallway light coming in through a crack in the door.

From the very first night, I noticed something strange: Around midnight, the door opened slightly, and a young nurse named Nisha sneaked in.

During the day, Nisha was gentle and attentive—nothing unusual. But at night, her stealthy behavior unsettled me. She wouldn’t turn on the lights, wouldn’t check the machines, but would simply stand by my bed for long periods, occasionally leaning in close, sighing softly.

This happening regularly every night made me want to pretend to be asleep just to see.

That night, at exactly 12 o’clock, there was a faint “click.” The door opened, and Nisha entered. I held my breath and closed my eyes tightly. She came closer, placing her cool hand on my forehead. A shiver ran down my spine, but I held it back.

Nisha sat down on the chair and whispered… “You look exactly like him… down to every detail.”

My heart stopped. Who was “him”?

She pulled a small photo from her pocket. In the dim light, I caught a glimpse of the face in the photo… It was me, but the picture was old and blurred.

Her voice choked.

“If you hadn’t left me that day, we could have been happy… How could you have tolerated this…”

I was stunned. I had never met Nisha before—so why was there another “me” in her memories?

She sat there for hours, reliving memories of “the two of us.” Each sentence seemed to delve deeper into the darkness, making my soul tremble. In Nisha’s infatuation, I became a “lost lover.”

For a moment, she pressed her cheek to my chest and whispered:

“This heartbeat… is still yours, isn’t it? You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

I shivered, but kept my eyes closed. I knew that if I opened my eyes, I wouldn’t be able to predict her reaction.

By dawn, Nisha quietly got up, wiped her tears, and walked away as if nothing had happened.

I stayed awake. The next morning, I told the doctor on duty—Dr. Sinha. At first, he didn’t believe me, thinking I was going crazy from the painkillers. But when he secretly monitored me, he discovered that Nisha really did have mental problems.

Records revealed that she was deeply in love with a young resident doctor named Arjun, who had died in a road accident a few years earlier. His face… bore a strange resemblance to mine. After that shock, Nisha went into a state of constant grief, constantly searching for the shadow of her ex-boyfriend in the male patients.

Hearing this, I felt both fear and regret. It turned out that Nisha came to me every night not to harm me, but to hold on to her lost love.

The day the hospital arranged for Nisha’s temporary discharge and transfer to the psychiatric ward, I still remember her sad eyes. She didn’t scream—she just stared at me silently, her lips moving.
— “You… don’t leave me now…”

I shuddered. I wasn’t that man, but in Nisha’s wounded heart, I was the shadow she clung to for survival.

The next night, the room became quiet again. But every time I closed my eyes, I heard that sentence echoing:
—“You’re just like him…”

A whisper that sent shivers down my spine, leaving an unforgettable, haunting image of a young girl lost in love and the ghosts of the past.