The scariest notification of my life came at 12:17 AM.
Aanya: "Don't come find me."
My phone slipped from my hand.
Her name was blinking on the screen — Aanya ❤️ — same display picture, same chat history, same blue ticks.
There was only one problem.
Aanya had been cremated yesterday.
I had returned from her funeral barely ten hours ago.
The smell of ashes was still stuck in my clothes.
And yet… my phone was telling me she was alive.
"This is a prank," I told myself.
"Some sick joke by her friends."
But only Aanya and I knew her phone password.
And her parents had placed her phone inside the coffin with her.
With shaking fingers, I typed back.
Me: "Aanya? What is this?"
Three dots appeared.
Typing…
Typing…
Then—
Aanya: "You want to stay alive, right?"
My throat went dry.
"Stop talking nonsense," I whispered.
"You… you're dead."
Aanya: "Yes. That's why I'm telling you — don't come find me."
Her face flashed in my mind.
White hospital sheet.
Closed eyes.
And my name written on her hand with a marker — "Rohan."
She had died in a road accident.
A truck.
Rain.
Blood.
The police said it was instant death.
The doctor said she didn't feel pain.
But I knew the truth.
Aanya died in pain.
Her last voice note was still saved on my phone.
"Rohan, I feel weird… like someone is calling me."
I had ignored it.
I was busy.
Watching a match.
Now she was texting me… from nowhere.
Me: "Where are you?"
The reply came instantly.
Aanya: "Where you left me."
My heart dropped.
The cremation ground.
"Shut up," I slammed the phone on the table.
"My mind is breaking."
The phone vibrated again.
Aanya: "Rohan… please don't come."
This time, there was a photo.
Blurry.
Dark.
And inside it… my reflection.
As if I was standing in front of glass.
Behind me — a burnt funeral pyre.
I screamed.
"This is impossible!"
I pulled open the curtains.
The road outside was empty.
No one was there.
Me: "You're trying to scare me."
Aanya: "I'm trying to save you."
I sat on the bed, grabbing my hair.
"You were my girlfriend. You wouldn't torture me like this."
Aanya: "I'm still yours."
Tears rolled down my eyes.
A memory surfaced.
Her laughter.
Street tea.
Her words:
"If I die, don't marry another girl."
I had laughed.
"Drama queen."
Now those words haunted me.
Me: "How are you talking to me?"
The reply took time.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Then—
Aanya: "I have to stay here alone."
Me: "Where is 'here'?"
Aanya: "Where people have forgotten me."
I opened Google Maps.
The cremation ground.
Fifteen minutes from my house.
It was 12:40 AM.
"I'm going," I told myself.
"Ghost or prank — I'll find out."
I wore my jacket.
Grabbed my bike keys.
The phone vibrated.
Aanya: "I told you not to come."
Me: "You lost the right to stop me."
Aanya: "Rohan, if you come… you won't be able to go back."
Cold ran down my spine.
Still…
I left.
Streetlights flickered on the road.
The air smelled faintly of rain.
As if the accident night had returned.
My phone kept vibrating while I rode.
Aanya: "Rohan, stop."
Aanya: "Please."
Aanya: "Leave me."
I shouted, "Enough!"
I reached the cremation ground gate.
Inside was darkness.
Only the shadow of a burnt pyre remained.
I turned on my torch.
A final message arrived.
Aanya: "You'll see me… and then you won't be able to leave me."
I pushed the gate open.
"I already couldn't leave you," I said.
"That's why I came."
The moment I stepped inside…
My phone opened by itself.
Incoming video call.
Aanya calling…
I answered.
Her face appeared on the screen.
Pale.
Wet hair.
Dark bruise on her neck.
Behind her—
The same burnt pyre.
She smiled.
"You came," her voice said — not from the phone… but from behind me.
Slowly, I turned.
Darkness.
A girl stood there.
Barefoot.
Burnt dupatta.
Eyes fixed on me.
"Aanya?" my voice trembled.
She reached out her hand.
"Now you won't be able to leave me, Rohan."
At that moment—
My phone showed one last message.
Aanya:
"Welcome to the place where love doesn't die… it rots."