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Chapter Two: The Monster in the Room
(Excerpt – 700+ words)
The ER was chaos.
Nurses scrambled. A gurney burst through the double doors, wheels screeching. A man lay on it, unconscious, blood soaking his dark shirt. His face — pale, sharp-jawed, disturbingly beautiful — was twisted in pain.
> “Gunshot wound, left abdomen! Pulse irregular!”
Aanya stood frozen behind Dr. Rhea Sharma.
And there he was.
Damien Orlov.
Exactly as described in the novel. His ink-black hair fell over his forehead, and blood trailed down his ribs. But even unconscious, his presence pulled like gravity.
Rhea didn’t hesitate. Her voice became sharp, commanding. “Get me two units of O negative. We need the OR now.”
She ran beside the gurney. Aanya was about to follow — then she paused.
This was the first moment.
The moment Rhea saved Damien’s life. The moment the obsession began.
Aanya’s mind screamed: Don’t let her go. Stop her. If she never meets him—
But no. That wouldn’t work. If she changed too much too soon, it might alert Damien. He wasn’t aware this was fiction — but he was dangerously intelligent.
She couldn’t make him suspicious. Not yet.
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Three hours later, the surgery was over. Damien survived.
Rhea walked out of the OR, scrubbing her hands, her eyes tired but proud.
“He’ll live,” she told Aanya, smiling faintly. “We stabilized him.”
Aanya tried to smile back, but her stomach twisted. She already knew how this would go. Damien would wake up, obsessed with the woman who saved him. Rhea would mistake his intensity for passion. And slowly, his obsession would turn fatal.
> Unless I change the script.
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Later That Night…
Aanya stayed late at the hospital, pretending to work. But really, she waited.
She knew what scene came next. Damien would wake up. Ask about Rhea. Begin to obsess.
She had to be there first.
When she slipped into the ICU, the room was dimly lit. Damien was still asleep — but restless, his head twitching side to side. His hand moved slightly. His eyelids fluttered.
She moved closer, holding her breath.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
Icy blue. Sharp. Unblinking.
He stared straight at her.
> “Who are you?” he rasped.
His voice was hoarse, low — but alert.
Aanya kept her expression neutral. “I’m a medical intern. You were shot. We saved you.”
He watched her for a long moment. Not blinking.
Then he asked, “Where’s the woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one with the soft hands.” His voice dropped. “She touched my chest. She stopped the bleeding.”
Rhea. He remembered her touch.
Aanya’s throat tightened. “She’s resting. She worked on you for hours.”
He blinked, slowly. “She saved me.”
“Yes.”
“I want her name.”
Aanya hesitated. She could lie. Redirect him.
But that would be risky.
She gave in. “Dr. Rhea Sharma.”
Damien repeated the name quietly, like a secret. Like a vow.
Aanya’s heart sank. It had begun.
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As she left the room, her mind was already racing.
Damien didn’t know he was a character in a story.
To him, Rhea was real. Love was real. Obsession was real. And death was just part of the game he played to protect what he wanted.
> He’s a living, breathing villain who thinks he’s the hero, Aanya thought.
But she was the reader — the one who had seen the truth behind the romance.
And now she had one mission:
Keep Rhea alive.
And don’t let the monster fall for the wrong girl this time.
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