3:17 AM
3:17 AM
The first night in the mansion, I couldn’t sleep.
Not because I was scared.
Because the silence felt… wrong.
It wasn’t normal silence. It wasn’t peaceful. It pressed against my ears. Thick. Heavy. Like the house was listening.
The mansion stood at the far end of the lane near campus, half-hidden behind overgrown trees and a rusted iron gate that screamed when I pushed it open earlier that evening. No neighbors close enough to wave at. No streetlights bright enough to feel safe.
Just shadows.
And me.
It was cheaper than every other place near college. Almost suspiciously cheap.
That should have been my first warning.
But when you grow up watching your mother calculate grocery money down to the last rupee, you don’t question cheap.
You accept it.
You survive.
The landlord never came himself. His son gave me the keys.
Reyansh Malhotra.
Tall. Composed. Observant in a way that made me feel like I was being measured.
“You won’t have any problems here,” he had said, handing me the key.
His fingers brushed mine.
Cold.
Not nervous cold.
Controlled cold.
His eyes lingered for a second too long, like he wanted to say something else. Or stop me. Or warn me.
But he didn’t.
He just stepped aside and let me enter.
The front door shut behind me with a sound that echoed through the entire house.
Like something had sealed.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The room was large, the walls pale but slightly stained with age. There was a faint smell of damp wood and something metallic I couldn’t quite place.
I counted the cracks above me.
Seventeen.
Thin lines splitting across the paint like veins.
I counted again.
Still seventeen.
The digital clock on my bedside table blinked 12:03 AM.
Sleep didn’t come.
Instead, memories did.
My mother’s tired smile when I told her I found a cheap place.
Her relief.
Her trust.
“You’ll focus on your studies now,” she had said.
I swallowed hard.
I couldn’t fail.
Not this year.
Not after everything.
A soft creak came from somewhere in the hallway.
I stiffened.
Old houses make noises, I told myself.
Wood shifts. Pipes move.
This house is just old.
I turned to my side and forced my eyes shut.
That’s when I heard it.
Breathing.
Slow.
Heavy.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My eyes snapped open.
The room was dark except for the faint streetlight glow slipping through the curtains.
I held my breath.
The sound continued.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Not from outside.
Not from the corridor.
From the walls.
My chest tightened.
No.
No, that’s impossible.
I pushed myself up slowly, heart pounding. The air felt colder suddenly, brushing against my skin like unseen fingers.
The crack above my bed looked… different.
I stared at it.
It wasn’t thin anymore.
It had widened slightly.
As if something beneath the paint had shifted.
My heartbeat began syncing with the sound.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Ex—
My phone vibrated violently against the wooden table.
I flinched so hard I almost fell off the bed.
Unknown Number.
My fingers hesitated before unlocking the screen.
One message.
Don't look at the walls.
A chill slid down my spine.
Another message appeared instantly.
It can feel when you notice it.
My mouth went dry.
Who is this?
How do they know what I’m doing?
I typed quickly.
Who is this?
The typing dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
You shouldn't have moved in.
My stomach twisted.
This isn’t funny.
I stood up slowly, forcing myself to breathe normally. My legs felt weak, but I walked toward the door and opened it.
The hallway was empty.
Dark.
Too dark.
The lights I switched on earlier were off.
I was sure I had left them on.
I stepped into the corridor.
The air felt colder out here.
The breathing sound grew louder.
Inhale.
Exhale.
It was definitely coming from my bedroom now.
I turned back slowly.
The crack on the ceiling wasn’t the only one anymore.
There were more.
Spreading.
Thin lines crawling outward like something was stretching beneath the paint.
My phone buzzed again.
Don't go back inside.
I froze.
Too late.
Because the bedroom door behind me slammed shut.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the mansion.
My heart jumped into my throat.
I rushed forward and grabbed the handle.
Locked.
I hadn’t locked it.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Okay. Calm down. This is just… pressure. Old wood.”
The breathing stopped.
Silence returned.
But this silence was worse.
It felt satisfied.
My phone buzzed again.
He's watching.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
Who?
Before I could type, the lights in the hallway flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then turned off completely.
Darkness swallowed everything.
I felt it before I saw it.
A presence.
Not touching me.
But close.
Too close.
Warm air brushed against the back of my neck.
A whisper.
So faint I almost convinced myself I imagined it.
“Meera.”
My entire body went rigid.
No.
No one here knows my name.
Another whisper.
Closer this time.
“Meera.”
My phone screen lit up again, casting pale light around me.
New message.
Don't turn around.
My breathing became shallow.
If this is some sick prank—
A floorboard creaked behind me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like someone shifting their weight.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
This is not real.
This is stress.
This is imagination.
The whisper came again.
Right next to my ear.
“You finally came back.”
My heart stopped.
Back?
What does that mean?
Suddenly—
Three slow knocks echoed from inside my locked bedroom.
Not frantic.
Not loud.
Controlled.
One.
Two.
Three.
I stared at the door.
The breathing started again.
But now it wasn’t in the walls.
It was on the other side of that door.
My phone buzzed violently in my hand.
I looked down.
He's inside.
My vision blurred.
Another message followed immediately.
And he knows you remember.
Remember what?
I took a step back.
The door handle began to turn slowly from the inside.
Very slowly.
As if whoever was in there knew I was watching.
Click.
The lock slid open.
The door creaked inward.
Darkness filled the room.
And in that darkness—
I saw a silhouette.
Tall.
Still.
Watching me.
My phone buzzed one last time.
I didn’t want to look.
But I did.
Run.
The silhouette tilted its head slightly.
And smiled.
Ch-1 end...
