The Contract Groom
Rainwater slid slowly across the windshield.
The parked car remained motionless beneath the shadow of an old tree, its engine turned off, its presence almost invisible in the storm.
Inside—
someone watched the house silently.
No movement.
No impatience.
Only observation.
A pair of gloved fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel in a slow rhythm.
Thinking.
Waiting.
Then—
a phone screen lit faintly inside the darkness.
One unread message.
Target confirmed.
The man stared at it for a few seconds before locking the screen again.
His face remained hidden beneath the hood and shadows.
Only his eyes were visible.
Sharp.
Still.
Dangerously calm.
Back inside the house, tension refused to fade.
Sasmita stood near the window, her arms folded tightly as thunder echoed across the sky.
The black card with the silver tiger symbol rested on the table beside her now.
Silent.
Threatening.
Dr. Prem remained near the staircase, his damaged glove lying nearby.
Neither of them had spoken for almost two minutes.
But silence between certain people was never empty.
It was calculation.
Finally—
Sasmita spoke.
"Who are you really?"
The question came quietly.
But directly.
Dr. Prem didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the rain-covered window.
"A doctor," he replied calmly.
"That answer stopped sounding believable a long time ago."
A faint pause followed.
Then—
unexpectedly—
he looked at her.
"And you?"
he asked softly.
"Are you really just someone protecting a patient?"
Their eyes locked again.
Longer this time.
Sharper.
Because the more they spoke—
the clearer one truth became.
Neither of them was ordinary.
Suddenly—
the lights cut out again.
Darkness swallowed the room instantly.
Not a flicker.
Not a malfunction.
A full shutdown.
Sasmita reacted immediately.
"This isn't the backup pattern."
Dr. Prem's instincts sharpened instantly.
Someone had disabled the power manually.
Outside—
the man inside the car finally moved.
The driver-side door opened slowly.
Rain hit the ground harder now, masking every sound around him.
He stepped out silently.
Black boots touching wet pavement without hesitation.
Then—
he began walking toward the house.
Inside—
Sasmita reached for a hidden drawer beneath the side table.
When her hand emerged again—
a small black handgun rested in her grip.
Dr. Prem noticed it immediately.
But surprisingly—
he didn't react.
As if seeing weapons around her didn't shock him anymore.
"You keep interesting things inside your house," he murmured.
"And you ask dangerous questions," she replied coldly.
A faint sound echoed from outside.
Crunch.
Footsteps on wet gravel.
Both of them froze instantly.
Someone was approaching.
Not hiding anymore.
Not carefully.
Confidently.
Dr. Prem moved toward the side of the hallway, positioning himself instinctively where the darkness concealed most of his body.
Professional.
Sasmita stayed near the staircase, gun lowered but ready.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Then—
three slow knocks echoed through the front door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
No one moved.
The rain outside continued crashing violently against the windows.
Another knock came.
Slower this time.
Almost patient.
Sasmita's eyes narrowed.
"…Who comes to a house in the middle of the storm without speaking?" she whispered.
Dr. Prem's voice remained calm.
"Someone who already knows what's inside."
The third knock never came.
Instead—
a voice echoed from outside the door.
Low.
Distorted slightly through the rain.
"Open the door."
Sasmita's grip tightened around the gun immediately.
Not because of fear.
Recognition.
Something about that voice felt familiar.
Painfully familiar.
Dr. Prem noticed the shift instantly.
"You know him," he said quietly.
"No."
Her reply came too quickly.
Which itself was an answer.
The voice outside spoke again.
"I know you're inside."
A pause.
"And I know who's hidden below the house."
Everything stopped.
Even the air itself felt frozen.
Dr. Prem's eyes sharpened dangerously behind the mask.
Impossible.
No one should know that.
Sasmita slowly stepped forward now.
Her expression had completely changed.
Cold.
Deadly.
"Who are you?" she asked loudly.
Silence followed for three seconds.
Then—
the man outside laughed softly.
Not loudly.
Not crazily.
Almost knowingly.
"You've forgotten me already?"
Sasmita's heartbeat slowed instantly.
Not from calm.
From shock.
Because memories—
old, broken memories—
were beginning to surface.
A burning warehouse.
Screams.
Blood on the floor.
And a teenage boy standing near the flames—
watching silently.
Her breathing became uneven for the first time tonight.
Dr. Prem noticed immediately.
"…Sasmita?"
But she didn't answer.
Because outside the door—
the voice spoke one final sentence.
"The dead should've stayed dead."
Then—
silence.
The footsteps retreated slowly into the rain.
Neither Sasmita nor Dr. Prem moved immediately.
Because both of them understood something now.
This wasn't surveillance anymore.
This wasn't warning anymore.
Someone from the past had returned.
And they already knew too much.
Far too much.