1. The White Card with a Number
The hazy morning light filtered through the curtains, casting bright patches on the floor that swayed with the breeze, like things that wanted to move but didn’t know where to go. Negar sat behind the desk, looking at the small card she had taken out of the folder the night before. A white card, with simple edges, and on it, in her mother’s handwriting, was written: “Room 312.” No explanation. No date. Just a number. And a fingerprint on the edge of the card, showing that her mother had held it many times. Perhaps for years, she had carried it in her coat pocket. Perhaps every time she passed by the hospital, she would take it out and look at it. And perhaps she had never been able to throw it away. Negar looked at it for a few minutes. Then she put the card in her coat pocket and left the house. Just with the feeling that she had to go. She had to see that room. The air was cold, and the wind carried dry leaves back and forth along the street. Her footsteps on the pavement made a soft sound that, in the morning silence, repeated like a word: go. see. understand. Or maybe not. Maybe just go and see. And understand that understanding doesn’t always mean finding an answer.
2. The Hallway That Led to Room 312
The hospital, as always, smelled of disinfectant. A cold, white smell that made everything feel the same. The shiny floor, under the fluorescent light, cast long lines of light that continued to the end of the hallway. Negar entered through the main door and headed toward the inner sections. She made a few wrong turns in the hallways. A nurse showed her the way. And then, she walked slowly down the hallway. The sound of her footsteps on the shiny floor mixed with the beeping of machines from behind closed doors. Perhaps the heartbeat of those lying in these hallways. Perhaps the breath of those still waiting. She read the numbers. 302… 304… 306… and then, 312. She stopped. The door was half open. The dim afternoon light filtered through thin curtains. And silence. A heavy silence in which only the sound of a monitoring device, with its regular beeping, filled the space. Negar stood behind the door for a few seconds. She reached her hand toward the door, but didn’t turn it. She just stood there, looking through the half-open gap. And for the first time, she felt that perhaps some doors remain half-open just to be seen. Not for entering, not for leaving. Just so that someone could look through them into another’s life.
3. The Girl Who Smiled in the Drawing
The room was steeped in silence. Light from behind the curtains fell on the bed, casting soft shadows on the wall. On the bed lay a young girl. Her hair was spread across the pillow. Her face, still and motionless in the dim light, looked like a sculpture. Her hands lay on the blanket, lifeless and still, like two silent objects. Beside the bed, an empty chair, with an open book on it. A book someone had left half-finished. And a cup of tea that had gone cold. Negar looked at it. At the open book, at the empty chair, at those hands that no longer held anything. And then her gaze fixed on Leila’s face. On the same child who smiled in the drawing. On the same girl whose photo had been taken three days before the accident. On the same one her mother had kept alive in the folder for years. And now, she was here. Motionless, silent, waiting for something no one knew what it was. For a moment, Negar couldn’t reconcile these two images. The second-grade drawing, with that yellow sun, that crooked smile. And this young girl, lying on the bed, with no one knowing if she would ever smile again. She looked for a few seconds. Just a few seconds. And then she stepped back. She didn’t enter the room. A young girl who was now waiting to wake up in a hospital bed.
4. The First Glance in the Hallway
Negar moved away from the door. She took a few steps down the hallway. The beeping of the machine still echoed in her ears. And then, suddenly, at the end of the hallway, a movement. A shadow. A man. An old man, in a simple shirt, carrying a cloth bag. The same man. The same old man from the garden. The same one who had tended to the plants with such care in the park. The same one who had touched the dry branch with respect. Negar stopped. The old man stopped too. They were a few meters apart. The dim afternoon light from the window at the end of the hallway fell on both their faces. Silence. Only the sound of machines from behind closed doors. And then, for the first time, their eyes met. The old man paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. His hand, for a moment, tightened on the handle of his bag. Negar said nothing either. They both, involuntarily, bowed their heads slightly. Just a look. And then the old man passed by her. Toward room 312. He opened the door and went in. The door remained half-open behind him. And Negar was left alone in the silence of the hallway.
5. The Last Gap of the Elevator Door
Negar looked at the open door for a few seconds. At the place where the old man had disappeared. And then she walked toward the elevator. The elevator door opened with a soft sound. Negar stepped in. She pressed the ground floor button. The door began to close slowly. And at that moment, through the gap in the door, room 312’s door was visible at the end of the hallway. Half-open. And a shadow moving behind it. A shadow moving toward the bed. A shadow that stopped beside the bed. A shadow holding a book. And then the elevator door closed. The image faded. Negar was left alone in the silence of the cabin. She stared at the closed door for a few seconds. At the image that remained in her mind. At the shadow she had seen in the last gap of the door. A shadow moving toward Leila’s bed. And the door of the room, left half-open behind him. And a question took shape in her mind. A question she didn’t know the answer to, but felt was more important than any other. Why, in that brief look, had something inside her stirred? Something she didn’t know what it was. She only knew that the old man was no longer a stranger to her. Not from recognition, but from feeling. From something that in those few seconds had settled in her heart more than any words could. And perhaps that was enough to begin an acquaintance.
6. The Lit Window of Room 312
The elevator reached the ground floor with a soft sound. The door opened. Negar stepped out and walked toward the exit. Through the glass door, she looked out at the hospital courtyard. The air was cold and gray, as always, settled over the city. She walked a few steps into the courtyard. Stopped. Looked at the window of room 312. Light shone from behind it. And a shadow moved across the curtain. A solitary shadow, reading a book to someone. Or perhaps to himself. To remind himself that there was still someone for whom he needed to read. Behind her, the window of room 312 was lit. For a moment, she wanted to go back. She didn’t. She just walked away, with an image in her mind. An old man, who in the last gap of the elevator door, was walking toward Leila’s bed. And a shadow moving across the curtain. A shadow reading to someone. She left the hospital. The glass door closed behind her. And she was left alone in the cold street. With a question whose answer was hidden not in a folder, not in a note, not in a number, but in the gaze of that old man. A look that in those few seconds had settled in her heart more than any words could.
End of Part Ten
