Lian did not like hospitals. She tolerated them when she had to but she never stayed longer than necessary. The smell always brought things back.

  This time she walked in like she belonged there.

  She wore plain clothes and carried a tote bag that looked like it held groceries. Inside it was nothing dramatic. Just a folded jacket and a notebook. The kind of thing that made her look harmless.

  Kai stayed outside in a parked car two blocks away, laptop open, eyes flicking between cameras.

  “You are clear,” he said through the earpiece. “No unusual movement. He is on the third floor.”

  “I know where his lab is,” Lian replied. “I helped him move into it.”

  She did not say it with bitterness. Just fact.

  The elevator ride up was slow. A nurse smiled at her and she smiled back. It felt strange how easy it was to blend in when you wanted to disappear.

  She stepped off on the third floor and followed the familiar hallway. The door to his lab was open. That alone made her pause.

  He used to be careful.

  She knocked lightly anyway.

  “Come in,” he called without looking up.

  He stood at a workbench, sleeves rolled up, hands gloved, focused on something under a light. He looked thinner. More wired.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He startled and turned. His expression softened into something close to relief.

  “Lian,” he said. “You should not be here.”

  “That is not a greeting,” she replied. “That is a warning.”

  He pulled off his gloves. “I did not expect you.”

  “You never do,” she said. “That used to bother me.”

  He gestured toward a chair. “Sit. Please.”

  She did not. She looked around instead. The new equipment. The sealed containers. The unfamiliar brand markings that did not match hospital inventory.

  “You upgraded,” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Funding finally came through.”

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  “From where,” she asked.

  He hesitated. Just a fraction too long.

  “Private donors,” he said. “People who believe in the work.”

  She nodded slowly. “You did not tell me.”

  “I did not think it mattered,” he said. “You left.”

  She met his eyes. “I left because you stopped telling me things.”

  Silence settled between them. Not hostile. Just heavy.

  Kai’s voice murmured in her ear. “Two security contractors just entered the building. Not hospital staff.”

  Lian did not react. “How are you sleeping,” she asked.

  He laughed softly. “Is that what you came to ask.”

  “Answer,” she said.

  “Poorly,” he admitted. “But that is normal.”

  “Not for you,” she said.

  He leaned against the bench. “You always did that. Act like you know me better than I know myself.”

  “I did,” she said. “I do not anymore.”

  His jaw tightened. “People change.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “They do.”

  She walked closer and picked up a clipboard. She skimmed the data without touching anything.

  “This is not peer reviewed,” she said. “You are skipping steps.”

  “I am cutting red tape,” he said. “You of all people should understand that.”

  She set the clipboard down. “I understand urgency. I do not understand secrecy.”

  He exhaled. “They want results. Not delays.”

  “They,” she repeated. “You keep saying that.”

  He met her gaze. “Does it matter who funds it if lives are saved.”

  “That depends on which lives,” she said quietly.

  He frowned. “What does that mean.”

  “It means I am seeing patterns,” she said. “And I do not like them.”

  Kai spoke again. “One of the contractors is heading your way.”

  Lian stepped back. “I should go.”

  “Yes,” he said too quickly. “Probably.”

  She studied his face. The man she loved was still there. Just buried under something sharper.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  He smiled. “I always am.”

  She turned to leave. At the door, she paused. “If you need help,” she said. “Real help. You know how to find me.”

  He did not answer.

  Outside, the air felt heavy. Lian walked until she turned a corner and ducked into a café. Kai was already there, pretending to read his phone.

  “They noticed you,” he said quietly.

  “I noticed them first,” she replied.

  They sat with coffees they did not drink.

  “He is in deeper than he admits,” Kai said.

  “I know,” Lian replied.

  Back in the lab, the doctor watched the door long after she left. His hands shook slightly as he put on a new pair of gloves.

  The coordinator appeared at the doorway.

  “Everything all right,” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “An old friend.”

  The woman nodded. “We will need your next update tomorrow.”

  “I will have it,” he replied.

  “Good,” she said. “They are pleased with your progress.”

  After she left, he stared at the sample under the light. It pulsed faintly, almost alive.

  He thought of Lian’s eyes. Of the question she did not ask.

  He turned back to his work.