Chapter Six

Lacing his shoes, Alex glanced at the door when hurried footsteps echoed into the doctor’s staff room. His brows lifted in curiosity as all eyes fell on him, their gazes thick with worry and concern.

The silence stretched. No one spoke.

Alex tilted his head. “What?”

“Your… your uncle—” One of the nurses clutched her water bottle so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Alex’s brows furrowed. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes scanning the nurses’ faces.

“What happened to him?” His worried gaze settled on Sophie—a tall, slim nurse with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. Her lips quivered, her tear-brimmed eyes reflecting the words she struggled to say.

“Sophie—” Alex urged, his voice tight.

“He… he committed suicide,” Sophie breathed, shutting her eyes as if hoping to erase the truth.

Alex staggered back. Colour drained from his face, his jaw slack, his eyes locked on Sophie as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

“That—that isn’t true, right?” His desperate gaze swept over the nurses again, but the way they avoided his eyes betrayed his denial.

“Are you okay?” Sophie rushed forward, gripping his arm. “Do you want to sit?”

“No.” Alex muttered, peeling her hands from his arm. He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand in front of his face. “No.” His voice barely held together.

Sophie bit her lip and nodded, wiping away her tears.

“Where—”

The door swung open, cutting Alex off. Two policemen stepped in, their presence shifting the air in the room.

The nurses bowed slightly in greeting, and the officers returned the gesture.

“Mr Alexander,” one of them, Brian, spoke with a sigh. “We need a few moments of your time.”

A flicker of unease crossed Alex’s face, but only for a second—so brief it was almost imperceptible. Slowly, he nodded.

“Why?” Sophie’s voice wavered, her fingers barely gripping Alex’s arm in alarm.

“I’ll be back,” Alex muttered, offering her a reassuring nod. “Soon.”

Sophie’s lips trembled, but she released his arm, lowering her gaze.

Alex exhaled sharply and gestured for the policemen to lead the way.

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He sat across from Brian, his posture rigid, his eyes locked onto the officer. Under the table, his fingers intertwined tightly. His heart pounded against his ribs, yet his face remained unreadable.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your uncle,” Brian began.

Alex nodded stiffly.

“How are you feeling? Considering you were the last person to see him alive.” Brian leaned forward slightly, watching Alex’s expression.

Alex’s gaze darkened. “I can’t describe how I feel.” His voice was steady, yet there was an edge to it.

Brian studied him. “You don’t look particularly sad.”

Alex let out a short, humourless laugh. “Should I cry? Lower my gaze? Tremble? Will that convince you I’m grieving?”

Brian lifted his hands. “That’s not what I meant.” He exhaled. “Mr Khalid’s body was found in the bathtub. Drowned. It appears to be suicide.” He paused. “But we also found a broken mug, spilled tea on the rug—signs of a struggle.” His eyes sharpened. “It seems you had a fight with him last night.”

Alex inhaled deeply, running a hand over his nose before glancing away.

“We did,” he admitted.

“Why?” Brian’s voice was probing, eyes hawk-like.

“He brought up something personal,” Alex replied, jaw tightening. “Something I didn’t want to hear. I lost my temper. I broke the mug.” His throat bobbed. “I might have said things I shouldn’t have. Maybe… I hurt him more than I realized.”

Brian’s gaze remained unreadable. “What exactly did you talk about?”

Alex’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “I told you—it was personal.” He smirked. “Are you accusing me of my uncle’s death?”

Brian chuckled, leaning back. “No. Just trying to understand.” Before he could say more, another officer strode in briskly, handing Brian a letter.

“Beside his computer in his room, we found a typed apology note for his suicide. Mr Khalid must have written it before his death,” the officer stated. “The autopsy report is also ready.”

Brian unfolded the letter. “What does it say?”

“He overdosed on sleeping pills before entering the tub. The estimated time of death was approximately thirty minutes after Dr Alex left his house.” The officer’s gaze flickered toward Alex. “But we found something unusual.”

Brian looked up sharply. “What?” He raised an eyebrow. “The medical examiner noted that he appeared to be unconscious before drowning—which is unusual. But his pill bottle and the glass cup had his fingerprints.”

Brian’s expression darkened. “Did you check the security footage?” He cast a glance at Alex.

“We reviewed everything, sir. The footage shows Dr Alex’s car leaving just before the incident.”

Brian took a slow breath, nodding. He folded the letter and slid it across the table.

“I apologize if I’ve inconvenienced you, Dr Alex.” He rose to his feet, and Alex followed. Brian hesitated. “The letter—” He exhaled. “Your uncle typed it for you.”

Alex stared at the envelope for a moment before picking it up.

“Can I go?”

Brian gestured toward the door. “Yes, you’re free to leave.” His gaze lingered on Alex. “For now.”

As if he hadn’t heard Brian’s threat, Alex gave a slight nod and exited. Walking down the corridor, he tapped the letter against his palm, a sly smile creeping onto his lips.

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Alex slammed the restroom door shut, pressing his back against it. His chest rose and fell heavily. Shoving the letter into his pocket, he strode to the sink, turned on the faucet, and let the cool water run over his hands. He splashed it onto his face, squeezing his eyes shut as the droplets trickled down his neck.

When he opened them, he gripped the edges of the sink. His knuckles turned white.

You brought this upon yourself, Uncle Khalid. What had gotten into you?

His breath shuddered as he straightened. He grabbed a towel, but as he yanked it from its hook, his gaze caught the mirror opposite him.

Alex stiffened.

His own reflection sent a chill down his spine. His face hardened, eyes darkening into midnight pools. A strange coldness wrapped around him. He traced his own stare, his lips parting in an almost imperceptible tremor.

“But when I think about it…” Khalid’s voice whispered in his head. “I know Isra would never approve.”

Alex’s head snapped forward, his breath ragged.

Rahim! Rahim!

His mother’s voice echoed through his skull like a distant cry in an empty room.

“Do you know Jesus loves you? Do you believe in Him?”

“Yes, Mama!”

His eyes flickered downward. The rosary she had given him still rested around his neck. His chest tightened. His fists clenched so hard they trembled.

“This is just a pendant now. A memento.” He had whispered those words over her grave, leaves falling around him like silent mourners.

A tear slipped down his cheek. Rage flared in his chest. Without a second thought, he swung his fist into the mirror.

Glass shattered. Shards scattered in all directions, clattering against the sink and floor. A sharp piece nicked his cheek, and blood trickled in a thin line down his jaw, mixing with the water still clinging to his skin.

The door snapped open.

Alex turned his back quickly, wiping his face with his white sleeve, smearing it with blood and tears.

A gasp.

“A-Are you okay?” Sophie’s voice.

How did she find me?

Alex cleared his throat, still not facing her. “I—I was trying to clean the mirror. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice wavered.

Alex nodded. “You should leave. I’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“Please, Sophie,” he whispered, a quiet plea.

A pause. Then, “Okay.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

The door shut.

Alex exhaled heavily, his eyes scanning the wreckage of shattered glass.

His reflection was gone.

But the mess he had made remained.

Thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on this story.