Karan didn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
He sat with his back pressed against the door, eyes locked on the mirror across the room. Every nerve in his body felt stretched, alert, as if blinking itself was a risk.
The reflection hadn't moved again.
Not after that.
Not after it tilted its head.
But that didn't make it better.
It made it worse.
Because now—
Now Karan knew it could move.
On its own.
Without him.
---
Morning arrived slowly, like the house itself was reluctant to let it happen.
A faint gray light slipped through the curtains, spreading across the floor inch by inch.
Karan didn't move until the light touched his feet.
Only then did he exhale.
A long, shaky breath.
"Okay…" he whispered, voice hoarse. "It's morning. Everything's normal in the morning."
He didn't believe it.
Not really.
But he needed something to hold onto.
---
He stood up stiffly, his legs slightly numb from sitting too long. His eyes flickered toward the mirror again.
Still.
Silent.
Just his reflection staring back.
Tired.
Pale.
Human.
Karan stepped closer.
Carefully.
Watching every movement.
The reflection followed perfectly.
No delay.
No smile.
Nothing unnatural.
He leaned in.
Closer.
Studying his own eyes.
"Say something," he muttered under his breath.
The reflection didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Didn't exist independently anymore.
Karan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Yeah… that's what I thought."
But the relief didn't last.
Because something else felt wrong.
---
He turned toward the door.
Unlocked it slowly.
Opened it just a little.
The corridor outside was empty.
Quiet.
Normal.
Too normal.
Karan stepped out.
The moment his foot touched the floor outside—
That feeling returned.
That crawling sensation under his skin.
Like the house was aware again.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
---
He walked down the corridor slowly, his eyes scanning everything.
The doors.
The walls.
The shadows.
Everything looked the same.
Exactly the same.
Until—
He stopped.
Right in front of it.
The closed door.
The one that didn't belong.
The one that felt wrong.
It was still there.
Same position.
Same stillness.
But now—
Now there was something new.
Karan's breath slowed.
Because the surface of the door…
Had marks.
Scratches.
Faint.
But definitely there.
Like someone had dragged their nails across it.
From the outside.
Trying to get in.
---
His chest tightened.
"No…"
He stepped closer.
Slowly.
His hand lifted—
Almost without his permission.
Hovering near the handle.
The same thought returned.
Stronger this time.
Don't open it.
But along with it—
Another voice.
Softer.
Deeper.
Open it.
Karan's fingers twitched.
"What happens if I do…?" he whispered.
No answer.
Just silence.
Heavy.
Expectant.
---
His hand wrapped around the handle.
Cold.
Unnaturally cold.
Karan flinched but didn't pull away.
His heartbeat quickened.
Louder.
Faster.
He could feel it in his ears.
In his throat.
In his fingertips.
"Just once…" he murmured. "I'll just check…"
His grip tightened.
The handle turned—
Slightly.
And then—
A sound.
Behind him.
Soft.
Like a breath.
Karan froze.
Slowly—
He turned his head.
The corridor was empty.
No one there.
No movement.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
Strong.
Immediate.
Someone was right behind him.
---
A whisper brushed against his ear.
So close it sent a chill down his spine.
«"Not yet…"»
Karan jerked his hand away instantly, stumbling back.
His heart slammed violently against his chest.
"Nope. Nope. Not doing this."
He shook his head, backing away from the door.
Whatever was behind it—
Wasn't meant to be opened.
At least…
Not now.
---
He turned and walked quickly down the stairs.
Not running.
But close.
The house felt tighter today.
More alive.
Like it was reacting to him.
---
The living room looked the same as before.
Covered furniture.
Dust.
Stillness.
But this time—
Something was different.
Karan noticed it immediately.
One of the sheets…
Was no longer still.
It moved.
Gently.
Like something underneath it had just shifted.
Karan's breath caught.
"No…"
He took a step back.
Eyes locked onto the moving fabric.
"Stop."
The sheet stilled.
Instantly.
As if it heard him.
As if it understood.
---
Silence returned.
But it wasn't empty.
It was watching.
---
Karan turned away.
Quickly.
He didn't want to know what was under that sheet.
Didn't want to see it.
Didn't want to understand it.
---
He moved toward the kitchen, trying to distract himself.
Trying to think.
Trying to stay grounded.
But his thoughts kept circling back.
The door.
The mirror.
The voice.
And that line scratched into his mind—
"Don't open it at 3:17."
---
3:17.
Again.
Always the same time.
Why?
What happened at that time?
What was supposed to happen?
---
Karan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at nothing.
His reflection faintly visible in the dusty glass cabinet.
Distorted.
Blurred.
For a second—
He thought it smiled again.
He looked away immediately.
"No."
Not again.
---
A strange memory flickered in his mind.
Faint.
Broken.
Incomplete.
A voice.
Soft.
Almost familiar.
And along with it—
A line.
Like a song.
Distant.
Echoing.
«"Muskan jhooti hai…"»
Karan froze.
His brows furrowed.
"Why do I know that…?"
The line felt… important.
Not just a random memory.
But something connected.
Something tied to this place.
To this house.
To him.
---
His chest tightened.
Because the more he tried to remember—
The more it slipped away.
Like something was blocking it.
---
Karan pushed himself away from the counter.
"I need to get out."
The words came out suddenly.
Urgently.
He didn't care where.
Just away from here.
Even for a little while.
---
He moved toward the main door.
Fast.
Determined.
His hand grabbed the handle.
Turned it.
Pulled.
It didn't open.
Karan frowned.
He tried again.
Harder.
Nothing.
"It was open yesterday…"
He pushed.
Pulled.
Twisted.
Still nothing.
The door didn't move.
Not even slightly.
---
His breathing became uneven.
"No… no, this isn't happening…"
He stepped back.
Staring at the door.
It looked normal.
Perfectly normal.
But it wouldn't open.
---
A slow realization crept in.
Cold.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Karan swallowed.
His voice barely came out.
"…I can't leave."
---
Silence.
Then—
From somewhere deep inside the house—
A faint sound echoed.
A soft creak.
Like a door opening.
---
Karan turned slowly.
His eyes lifted toward the staircase.
Toward the corridor above.
Toward that door.
---
And for the first time—
It wasn't closed anymore.
---
It was open.
---
Just slightly.
Enough to reveal—
Complete darkness inside.
---
Karan's heart dropped.
Because he knew—
He hadn't opened it.
---
And this time—
The house wasn't asking.
---
It was inviting.
---