Darkness swallowed the room.
Aarav's breath came in shallow gasps as his fingers fumbled for the matchbox on the table. The only sound was the steady thud of his own heartbeat—until something shifted behind him.
He struck a match. The flame flickered to life, casting weak light across the room. The chair was empty.
The man was gone.
But the mirror remained. And in its murky reflection, a shadow stood right behind him.
Aarav spun around, his pulse hammering against his ribs. Nothing. The room was empty.
But then, the whisper came.
"You're not alone, Aarav. You never were."
The voice wasn't his. It wasn't the man's either. It was something else. Something wrong.
Aarav swallowed hard. The whisper didn't come from the mirror this time. It came from the door.
The same locked door he had never seen anyone open.
Except now, it was slightly ajar.
A slow creak echoed through the silence as it moved—on its own.
The darkness beyond the door wasn't normal. It wasn't just the absence of light. It felt… alive.
Aarav stepped back, but the whisper returned.
"Come closer. You're ready now."
His fingers clenched into fists. He had a choice—step into the unknown or run from it.
He took a slow, shaky breath… and reached for the door.