Muskan kept staring at her trembling fingers, holding the edge of her blanket like it was a shield. Her eyes burned, not from sleep, but from terror that refused to leave her mind. Her room suddenly felt too small—as if the walls were bending inward, slowly, silently.
The wind outside hissed through the gaps of the window.
Hsskkhhh…
She pulled the blanket higher until it almost covered her eyes.
"Please… bas subah ho jaye," she whispered to herself.
The soft light of her phone screen glowed under the blanket. She scrolled through YouTube bhajans, mantras, anything that could calm her, but her body wouldn't stop shaking. Every small sound amplified. The ceiling fan's creak. The wind brushing against the glass. Her own heartbeat pumping like a drum in an empty cave.
But she didn't dare look at the window again.
Not after those eyes.
Those eyes that were not human… but also not inhuman.
Black. Deep. Burning.
And painfully familiar.
She couldn't shake the thought. That face—half-cast in moonlight, sharp jawline, unruly dark hair falling over his forehead—was not a stranger's face. She had seen it… somewhere.
But where?
Her eyes felt heavy… her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Slowly, she drifted into sleep.
For a moment, everything became silent.
Calm.
Still.
Until—
TAP.
A soft sound.
Like a nail lightly tapping the window glass.
Her eyes shot open.
She turned slowly, her heart racing so loud that she could almost hear the blood pulsing in her ears.
TAP. TAP.
Her breath hitched.
Her blanket slipped from her fingers.
And then—
Silence.
Long. Stretching endlessly.
She struggled to sit upright. Her throat dry, lips trembling.
"…who's there…?" she whispered, knowing no one would answer.
She tiptoed near the window. Not close enough to open it—just enough to peek from behind the curtain.
Her hand shook violently as she moved the curtain by half an inch.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
She inhaled sharply, relief flooding her chest.
But then—
A shadow moved.
Not outside.
Behind her.
Inside the room.
Her body froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught mid air. She felt the cold presence… standing silently… breathing almost too quietly.
She didn't turn. She couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move.
Then a low, deep whisper grazed the back of her neck…
"Muskan…"
Her entire body went cold.
No human voice felt like that—like the sound vibrated inside her bones rather than her ears.
She turned around.
There was no one.
Nothing.
Empty room.
Yet the air still carried the warmth of breath… someone else's breath.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"No… no no…" she muttered, clutching her arms tightly.
She rushed to her bed, grabbed her phone, and dialed her friend again.
Tuuuu…
Tuuuuuu…
No answer.
She threw the phone aside, tears welling in her eyes she felt crying, her heart jumping on her throat.She was ready to scream, but before she could—
The mirror on her dressing table shimmered.
Subtle at first.
Then violently.
Like something behind the glass wanted to break through.
Muskan stumbled backward, colliding with the wall.
"No… not again… please," she whispered, her voice trembling.
The glass fogged up from inside, as if someone was breathing behind it.
Slow, heavy breaths.
Hsshhhhh…
Hsshhhh…
Then a shape formed.
A shadow.
Tall. Broad shoulders.
A man.
The same shadow she saw in the backyard.
Her heart beats hammered faster.
"What do you want…" she whispered, gripping the edge of her bed.
The mirror like a living being he has breath and his heart sound something.
Like a heartbeat.
Her heartbeat matched it.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Then the voice came again. A whisper, softer than air… but sharper than a blade.
"don't afraid of me...."
Muskan staggered back.
The mirror's fog cleared.
Two eyes glowed through the glass—deep, dark, burning black.
"I'm not a monster."
Her world tilted.
Her breath stopped.
The temperature dropped so suddenly that she felt her fingers numb.
This time, she couldn't move.
Couldn't blink.
Couldn't breathe.
Those eyes were the same ones staring at her from the backyard.
She squeezed her palms so tightly that her nails dug into her skin.
"Then what are you…?" she managed to whisper through her trembling lips.
A pause.
The mirror surface cracked slightly from the corner—just a tiny fracture—but it spread like a spider web. The room vibrated faintly.
His voice came again, calm… almost gentle.
"I am yours."
Muskan's heart jumped painfully.
She shook her head violently, tears running down her cheeks.
"NO! I don't know you! Please… leave me alone," she cried.
The mirror shimmered again.
Slowly… the fog returned.
His outline leaned closer.
His whisper crawled into her ear.
"You knew me once."
"And you loved me."
Her breath hitched.
"What… what do you mean…?"
Silence.
The fog thinned.
The shape faded.
He was gone.
Only her reflection remained—pale, terrified, broken.
Muskan collapsed onto her bed, sobbing softly, holding herself tightly. Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump.
A message.
From her friend.
Finally.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
"I'm on the way. Don't worry. Just stay in your room. And Muskan… don't go near the backyard window."
A chill ran through her spine.
She typed back:
"Why?"
Three dots appeared…
…
…
But no message came.
Suddenly, her lights flickered.
The mirror made a soft cracking sound again.
And from the backyard window—
very faint, barely audible—
a whisper floated inside.
"He is already here."