Episode 2 : Echoes After Midnight

The taxi stopped outside the apartment building, and Soumya stepped out slowly. The night air felt heavy against her skin. Mumbai was still awake—horns blaring in the distance, lights glowing from high-rise windows—but inside her, everything felt strangely hollow.

She unlocked the door and entered the apartment she shared with her elder sister, Kriti.

The living room light was on.

Kriti sat on the sofa with a file open in her lap, her glasses pushed up into her hair. She looked up the moment Soumya entered and frowned. “You’re late,” she said gently. Then she noticed Soumya’s red eyes and stiff posture. “What happened?”

Soumya tried to speak, but the words refused to come out. She dropped her bag and sank onto the chair opposite her sister. Tears welled up again, silent and unstoppable.

Kriti closed the file and moved closer. “Was it him?” she asked softly.

Soumya nodded.

Between broken breaths, she tried to explain—the dinner, the window, the figure watching her. She described the fear, the certainty she had felt. As she spoke, Kriti listened carefully, her expression a mixture of concern and helplessness.

When Soumya finished, Kriti placed a hand over hers. “Soumya,” she said calmly, “there was no one there. You know that.”

“But I saw him,” Soumya whispered. “I felt him watching me.”

Kriti sighed quietly. “I know it feels real to you. But feeling real doesn’t always mean it is real.”

The words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened Soumya’s confusion. She pulled her hand away and stood up. “I need to be alone,” she murmured, walking toward the bedroom.

The room felt colder than usual. Soumya sat on her bed, staring at the wall. Kriti’s voice echoed in her mind, clashing with her own certainty. She tried to steady herself, counting her breaths, focusing on the familiar sounds of the apartment.

Then it returned.

That unmistakable sensation.

Someone was watching her.

Her eyes moved slowly toward the corner of the room. Nothing stood there—only shadows shaped by the dim light. Still, her heart raced. A faint sound reached her ears, soft and unclear, like whispers trapped inside walls.

She pressed her palms against her ears. “Not now,” she whispered. “Please.”

Outside the bedroom, Kriti knocked gently. “Soumya? Are you okay?”

Soumya did not answer.

The whispers faded slightly, replaced by the distant hum of traffic. She lay down, staring at the ceiling, afraid to close her eyes. Kriti eventually returned to the living room, leaving the door half open, the light spilling softly into the hallway.

That night, sleep came only in fragments.

As hours passed, Soumya realised something that frightened her more than the presence itself: even with her sister nearby, even in a shared home, she felt completely alone.

Somewhere between reality and imagination, Another World was quietly settling into her life—and she did not know how to escape it.

She doesn't know what was coming on.

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