Protected by Kidnapper

Chapter 3

Kiara's POV:

My uncle places a hand on my shoulder. “Kiara, I need to talk to you,” he says softly. “It’s about your grandparents.”

I glance at him. He gestures to Shivani, Sonu, and Aunty Dona to stay with Grandma.

I squeeze Grandma’s hands gently. “I’ll be right back, okay?” I whisper.

Then I stand up and follow Uncle into the kitchen, searching his face for answers.

I walk into the kitchen with Uncle, my steps slow and heavy.

He starts talking, but his voice feels distant—like it's underwater. I’m standing there, but everything’s spinning. My chest tightens. My ears are ringing. I can see his mouth moving, but I can’t hear a thing.

“Kiara? Kiara? KIARA!” Uncle’s voice cuts sharply through the haze, and I snap back to reality.

“Y-yes?” I manage to say, my voice barely there.

He sighs, eyes soft with concern. “Oh, Kiara. I know how you’re feeling. But… you have to fulfill the favor your grandparents asked of you.”

“What favor?”

“The favor is… a little difficult,” he says, hesitating.

“It’s okay, just tell me. I can do anything for them,”

“Anything?” he asks again.

“Yes, anything.”

"So, your grandparents... They want you to be a nurse,” he says calmly.

“A nurse?”

“Yes. A personal nurse... for a patient in an mental hospital,” he says, his voice steady.

"Is this really my grandparents' favor?" I ask, my voice filled curiosity.

"Yes."

I narrow my eyes slightly.

"Which hospital?" I ask, brows furrowed.

“Ebonhurst mental hospital,” Uncle says. “It’s far from here, in another city. You’ll have to stay there overnight. The job is daily.”

“Every day?” I blink in disbelief. “But… I have college. My studies—”

“You can study from there,” he replies calmly. “And when exams come, you can request an exam leave.”

I fall silent.

This is… a lot. Taking care of a patient all day, living in an hospital, being away from home. It’s overwhelming.

But my grandparents never asked much from me. I, on the other hand, asked them for everything… and they gave it, always.

“I’ll do it."

As Uncle turns to leave, his words hang in the air. "Take your time."

But as he walks out, a sudden realization hits me like a cold wave. My grandparents have always stayed downstairs because of their leg pain, the old age, the constant struggle with mobility. Their room is on the ground floor, where they feel comfortable.

But then, why did Grandpa go upstairs?

15 days later...

I'm in my room, packing my bag in silence. My heart feels heavy, and so does this decision. Grandma is still paralyzed, lost in her own world of grief.

Puja and Tiya enter my room and quietly sit beside me, their presence comforting but heavy.

“Kia, are you really going?” Tiya asks, her voice soft, like she’s hoping I’ll say no.

“We’re really going to miss you, Kia,” Puja adds, her eyes already glistening.

Without another word, they both wrap their arms around me in a tight hug. I hold them close, trying to soak in this moment. I’m really going to miss them—my best friends. But most of all, I’ll miss my grandma. I’ve spent all my free time with my grandparents, and now I have to leave this city… leave her like this.

“I’ll miss you both,” I whisper, and tears begin to silently stream down my face.

After packing my bag, I rush downstairs to meet my grandma one last time before leaving. I enter her room and see Shivani and Sonu already there, sitting quietly.

I kneel in front of Grandma, gently holding her hand. “I’ll come back soon, Grandma. I love you so much. Please stay safe, okay?” I whisper, kissing her hand and then her cheek.

Standing up, I turn to leave. “Bye, Shivani. Bye, Sonu,” I say softly. I’ll miss them too, no matter how chaotic everything has been.

“Be careful,” Shivani says. She usually doesn't show much affection, but this time, there’s something different in her voice—like she really means it. I can’t help but smile.

“Next time, I’ll give you my phone to take screenshots—after I delete my Chrome history,” Sonu jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course. I’ll take the best screenshots ever,” I reply, chuckling through my tears.

Finally…

I step into the car, closing the door behind me with a soft thud. Through the window, I see them all standing there—Tiya and Puja, their eyes glossy; Sonu with a small, crooked smile; Shivani looking unusually serious; Aunty holding her hands together tightly; and Uncle… unreadable as ever.

They all wave goodbye. I lift my hand slowly and wave back.

Then the engine rumbles to life. The car starts to move.

And just like that—my journey begins. Away from home, away from comfort towards the unknown. Towards Ebonhurst.

--------------

My eyes snap open, blinking against the dimming evening light. I glance down at my wristwatch. Seven hours...? I started my journey at 10 a.m.—and now it’s already 5 p.m.

The car slows and then comes to a complete stop in front of a towering, weathered building surrounded by tall iron gates.

Ebonhurst Mental Hospital.

The name alone sends a quiet chill crawling down my spine.

Noah, our driver, turns to me, his eyes kind but a little worried.

“Be careful, okay? Eat on time. Stay healthy,” he says softly.

“I will. Thank you, Noah.”

But deep inside... I’m not sure if I’m ready for whatever waits behind those doors.

I step into Ebonhurst.

The air inside is colder, heavier—like the building itself is holding its breath. The stone walls stretch high above me, and guards patrol every corner like silent shadows.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Can you tell us the reason for coming here?" a tall guard asks, with sharp eyes that scan me like a scanner at an airport.

"I... I’m the new nurse for a patient."

He looks at my ID card, his eyes narrowing for a second before he nods and gestures for me to enter.

“This way.”

As I walk past the gates and into the heart of Ebonhurst, I feel it. Something here is very wrong. Maybe.

I step inside and make my way to the reception.

"Excuse me?" I say, trying to get the attention of the man behind the desk.

He looks up from his phone — tall, muscular, probably in his late or mid-twenties, dressed in standard uniform, but with a casual attitude. "Yes?"

"I'm the new nurse."

He raises an eyebrow, then says flatly, "Give me the files."

Without a word, I place the stack of documents in front of him. These papers hold everything—my identity, qualifications...

Actually, I’m still doing my nursing course in college. my uncle used his influence. Because realistically, a twenty-year-old girl getting a full-time nurse position in an elite hospital? It doesn’t add up. He’s powerful… and that power moved things fast.

He flips through them lazily at first, then a little more carefully.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, scanning the top page. Then he picks up the intercom. “Dr. Isaacs, the new nurse has arrived. Sending her up.”

He glances at me again, voice a little less robotic this time. “Go to the third floor. Room 318. The doctor will meet you there.”

I grip my bag strap tighter.

Room 318.

I enter Room 318 on the third floor. The atmosphere feels clinical but tense. There are several doctors and nurses inside, speaking in low, focused voices. Charts shuffle, machines hum softly, and the smell of antiseptic hangs in the air.

One of the doctors—a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor—approaches me. He gestures toward an empty chair. I sit down, nerves tightening in my chest.

“So, you came from another city, right?” he asks, settling in front of me.

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow slightly but continues. “Alright. You’re a medical college student, second year, correct?”

“Yes, doctor."

He hands me a paper, his expression unreadable. “Here it is. This has your full guide written down. And remember—your room number is 100. There’s a device inside that’s connected directly to your patient’s room. Whenever he wants you, he’ll call through it. Make sure you check on him regularly—not just when he calls.”

“Understood,” I reply, nodding firmly.

"Doctor, can you come here?" a nurse calls from across the room.

"Yes, coming," he replies, then turns to me, handing over a paper. "Go through it carefully. I have to attend something urgent."

Without waiting for a response, he walks away.

I walk toward room number 100, dragging my small suitcase behind me.

Once inside, I close the door behind me and change out of my travel clothes. The paper says I’m allowed to wear any outfit as long as I have my ID card on. So I choose something comfortable—a plain black tshirt and sweatpants.



I take a deep breath.

Then, holding the paper in my hand, I step out and start walking toward room 69—my patient’s room.

Every step echoes strangely down the corridor. I don't know why, but my heart feels heavier with each one.

I see a guard standing outside room 69.

"Are you the new nurse for Kiansh?" he asks.

"Yes. I’m Kiansh Dewan’s new nurse," I reply, holding up the paper the doctor gave me.