I was hospitalized for more than a month after breaking my leg in an accident. It was a public hospital in Quezon City, Metro Manila, crowded during the day but eerily quiet at night. I stayed in a single room, with only light from the hallway coming through the crack in the door.

From the very first night, I noticed something strange: around midnight, the door to the room would open slightly, and the figure of the young nurse Aira Santos would sneak in.

During the day, Aira was gentle and took good care of me, nothing unusual. But at night, those furtive footsteps made me restless. She didn’t turn on the lights, didn’t check the machines, just stood by my bed for a long time, sometimes leaning down very close, sighing softly.

At first, I thought it was because she was too dedicated, but the regularity every night made me suspicious. I decided to pretend to be asleep to observe.

That night, exactly at 12 o’clock, there was a soft “click”. The door opened, and Aira walked in. I closed my eyes tightly, keeping my breathing steady. She moved closer, her cold hand gently placed on my forehead. A shiver ran down my spine, but I endured it. Then Aira sat down on the chair, whispering:

— “You look so much like him… down to every detail.”

My heart stopped beating. Who was “him”?

Aira took a small photo from her pocket. In the dim light, I caught a glimpse of the face in the photo… exactly like me, except the photo was faded and old.

She choked:
— “If you hadn’t left me that day, we could have been happy. Why did you have the heart to…”

I was speechless. I had never met Aira before, so why did another “me” exist in her memory?

She sat there for hours, softly recounting their memories. Each word seemed to cut deep into the darkness, making my skin crawl. In Aira’s infatuation, I became her “lost lover.”

Sometimes, she pressed her cheek against my chest and whispered:

“This heartbeat… is still yours, right? You won’t go anywhere, right?”

I trembled, but kept my eyes closed. I knew that if I opened them for just a moment, I wouldn’t be able to predict her reaction.

Early in the morning, Aira quietly stood up, wiped her tears, and left the room as if nothing had happened.

I stayed awake. The next morning, I told the doctor on duty. At first, he didn’t believe me, thinking I was paranoid because of the painkillers. But when they secretly monitored me at night, they discovered that Aira was actually having a mental breakdown.

Internal records showed that she had been deeply in love with a young doctor, Dr. Carlo Ramos, who worked at this hospital and had died in an accident a few years ago. His face… strangely resembled mine. After that shock, Aira fell into a state of confusion, always searching for the shadow of her old lover in male patients.

After listening, I was both scared and pitiful. It turned out that every night Aira came not to harm me, but to hold on to a lost love.

The day she was temporarily suspended from work for treatment and psychological support, I still remember that desolate look in her eyes, as if containing a deep abyss of despair. She did not scream, just silently looked at me, her lips moving:

— “You… don’t leave me anymore…”

I shivered. I was not that man, but in her wounded heart, I was the shadow she clung to to survive.

The following night, the room was quiet again. But every time I closed my eyes, that sentence still echoed in my head:

— “You are so much like him…”

A whisper that sent a chill down my spine—leaving an unforgettable haunting image of a young girl lost between love and the ghost of the past—right at a hospital in Quezon City, Philippines