Chapter 1: The Face Beneath the Veil
Emily's fingers trembled as she pulled away the final silver pin holding the bridal hijab in place.
The fabric slipped slowly onto the stainless-steel examination table.
For a long moment, she simply stared.
"No..."
The whisper escaped before she realized she had spoken.
The woman lying before her was beautiful, but she wasn't the woman from the wedding photographs clipped to the medical file.
Emily snatched the folder from the counter.
Wedding ID.
Bride: Amina Rahman.
Age: 24.
She looked back at the face.
The eyes.
The eyebrows.
The scar above the left ear.
None of them matched.
Emily had worked in St. Mary's morgue for almost eight years.
Bodies changed after death.
Faces swelled.
Skin lost color.
But facial bone structure never changed.
This wasn't Amina.
Someone had dressed another woman in Amina's wedding gown.
Someone had wrapped her in Amina's hijab.
Someone had wanted everyone to believe she was dead.
A cold chill crawled across Emily's back.
Then—
Tap.
A faint sound echoed through the silent morgue.
Emily spun around.
Nothing.
Rows of metal drawers stretched into darkness.
Only the constant humming of refrigeration units disturbed the silence.
She forced herself to breathe.
"It's just the pipes," she whispered.
Turning back toward the examination table, she reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Before she could press the button...
The woman coughed.
A tiny, weak cough.
Emily nearly dropped the phone.
The bride's lips parted.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Then, with enormous effort, the woman whispered only one word.
"Run..."
Emily leaned closer.
"What?"
The woman tried again.
"They..."
Her voice disappeared into a painful gasp.
Suddenly every monitor in the room went dark.
Click.
The lights blinked once.
Twice.
Then complete darkness swallowed the morgue.
Emily froze.
Power outages almost never happened.
Especially not in the secured basement.
Emergency lights flickered on seconds later, bathing the room in deep red light.
The woman on the table opened her eyes.
For the first time.
They were filled with terror.
"They're here..."
Emily heard footsteps.
Heavy.
Slow.
Coming from the hallway outside.
One pair.
Then another.
Someone was approaching the morgue.
At two-fifteen in the morning.
No one should have been here except security.
Emily rushed toward the control panel beside the door.
The hallway security camera feed appeared on the monitor.
Static.
Every camera showed nothing but gray snow.
Someone had disabled them.
The footsteps stopped outside.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three calm knocks.
Emily held her breath.
A man's voice came through the door.
"Miss Emily?"
She recognized it instantly.
The groom.
Her heart skipped.
How could he still be here?
"I forgot something."
Silence.
"I know you're inside."
Emily looked toward the examination table.
The woman weakly grabbed Emily's wrist.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"Don't..."
Emily whispered, "Who are you?"
The woman swallowed painfully.
"My name..."
Before she could finish—
The metal door handle slowly turned.
Locked.
Someone outside tried again.
Then a second handle moved.
The emergency entrance.
Emily's stomach dropped.
Two doors.
Two people.
The woman suddenly whispered,
"He's not my husband."
Emily stared.
"What?"
"He killed..."
The sentence ended in a violent cough.
Blood stained the white wedding dress.
Outside, the groom spoke again.
His voice remained calm.
Almost gentle.
"You don't want to make this difficult."
Emily backed away.
She grabbed the nearest surgical scalpel without even thinking.
The handle felt tiny in her sweaty hand.
The lock clicked.
Someone had a key.
The morgue door opened.
Standing there was the groom.
Still wearing his black wedding tuxedo.
Not a wrinkle.
Not a tear.
His polished shoes reflected the emergency lights.
Behind him stood two men dressed as hospital security.
Emily had never seen either of them before.
The groom smiled politely.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"There has been a misunderstanding."
His eyes drifted toward the examination table.
For the first time...
His smile disappeared.
The veil was gone.
The woman's face was exposed.
His expression hardened.
"So..."
he murmured quietly.
"You looked."
Emily stepped between him and the table.
"Who is she?"
No answer.
Instead, he slowly removed a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket.
Carefully.
Patiently.
As though preparing for surgery.
One finger at a time.
Emily noticed something strange.
There wasn't a wedding ring on his hand anymore.
Only a pale mark where one had been.
He looked toward the two fake security guards.
"Close the doors."
Metal slammed behind them.
Emily realized they weren't trapped inside with him.
He had trapped them.
The woman suddenly grabbed Emily's sleeve again.
With the last of her strength, she whispered into Emily's ear.
"Locker..."
She coughed violently.
"Number..."
Before she could finish...
One of the fake guards injected something into her neck.
Her body instantly went limp.
Emily screamed.
"What did you do?"
The groom sighed.
"Now you've forced us to involve you."
He took one slow step forward.
Emily raised the scalpel.
He didn't even flinch.
Instead...
He smiled again.
"You're wondering why she was breathing."
Another step.
"You're wondering why she's wearing another woman's face."
Another.
"But you're asking the wrong questions."
He stopped only inches away.
"The real question is..."
He leaned close enough for Emily to smell expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.
"...where is the real bride?"
Emily felt every hair on her body stand up.
Because somewhere inside the hospital...
If this woman wasn't Amina Rahman...
Then Amina might still be alive.
May you like
Or she might already be another unidentified body waiting inside one of the cold metal drawers.
End of Chapter 1
