The hallway felt wrong. Not the usual hum of voices or TV noise from the ward.

This corridor was narrow, dim, and smelled faintly metallic, like old coins.

The walls were bare, no bulletin boards, no faded posters about “healthy coping skills.” Just blank beige and the low, steady buzz of something mechanical behind them.

The two nurses walked on either side of her, their shoes making soft squeaks on the floor. Neither spoke.

“Walk quickly, lawsuit girl.”

Naya glanced at the doors ...