The rain drummed softly on the roof that night, a steady rhythm that failed to soothe Raghav’s restless mind. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and dread. Despite the warmth of Tanvi sleeping peacefully beside him, a coldness clung to his heart.
Something wasn’t right. He could feel it.
His chest ached with a growing anxiety—an unspoken fear that something terrible was creeping closer to his family. Ever since he had returned from the village, since the old woman’s tale echoed in his ears, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. That the darkness from the wada wasn’t sealed behind locked doors—it had already seeped into their home, into their lives.
He turned his head slightly to look at Tanvi. Her breathing was calm now, but he knew what she had experienced wasn’t a dream or a trick of her mind. She had seen something in that place. And worse, Madhavi had seen it too. The spirit, the woman… she wasn’t done.
He needed answers. He had to know what the connection was between his family and that mansion. Why everyone wanted to keep it buried. And most importantly—who the woman in the shadows was.
But his search would have to wait until morning.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, a sudden chill swept across the room. He sat up, alert. The windows were shut. The curtains barely moved. Yet the cold pressed against his skin like invisible fingers.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Faint, but unmistakable.
He froze. The sound wasn’t coming from outside—it was in the hallway. Just beyond their room. Carefully, he slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Tanvi. He crept toward the door, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. When he opened it, the hallway was empty. Still. Silent.
He took a few cautious steps forward. The lightbulb above flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows on the wall. The house, which always held a quiet sense of comfort, now felt alien and unfamiliar.
But the footsteps were gone.
---
The next morning, Raghav didn’t mention it. Not yet. Not until he was sure. But as he helped Sunanda in the kitchen, his eyes kept drifting to Madhavi, who sat nearby humming softly, her gaze blankly fixed on nothing.
Something about her presence gnawed at him.
Later that evening, Tanvi went to the terrace to fold the clothes from the line. The wind had picked up again, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth and something else… something metallic and cold.
As she reached for a dupatta fluttering at the edge, she paused.
She felt it. A chill behind her neck. The sudden weight of silence pressing down on her.
She turned.
No one.
But then—softly, like a whisper in the wind—she heard it.
Footsteps.
She spun around again, her heart thudding. The sound seemed to echo across the rooftop, slow and deliberate. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice trembling.
No answer.
Suddenly, she heard the creak of a door from below.
The wada’s door.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. It was supposed to be sealed. Kaka had chanted mantras and locked it with holy thread and vermilion. But now… now it stood slightly ajar, the lock hanging uselessly from the latch.
"No..." she whispered, backing away from the railing.
She ran down the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste. She called out, “Raghav! Kaka! The door—it's open!”
They came running—Raghav first, then Kaka and Sunanda, panic flashing across their faces.
Kaka grabbed the holy chain and ran toward the wada’s gate. Raghav followed, shielding Tanvi behind him.
When they reached the mansion, the door was indeed open.
No wind. No force.
Just… open.
The air beyond the threshold was thick with a presence. A pull. Like something was calling them in.
Kaka immediately began chanting again, his voice stern and low, and slowly pushed the door shut once more. He locked it, wrapped it again with the sacred thread, and smeared fresh turmeric and vermilion at the base.
He didn’t say a word. But his face was pale, his eyes hollow.
Back inside, Tanvi sat down, visibly shaken.
“I didn’t touch it,” she whispered. “I swear. I just heard it creaking open. It was already unlocked.”
“I believe you,” Raghav said, his voice soft but steady. “I heard footsteps last night. In the hallway.”
Sunanda covered her mouth, while Kaki crossed herself with a silent prayer.
Then Kaka finally spoke.
“It has begun again,” he murmured. “After that day. She’s awake now. And she will not rest… until it ends.”
“Who is she?” Raghav asked. “Tell me the truth, Kaka. Please.”
Kaka looked up at him, weary. “She was wronged. Betrayed. Buried beneath lies. And the blood on this family’s hands—she remembers it all.”
Raghav felt his knees weaken. “Is she one of us?”
“She was once…” Kaka whispered. “But what she has become now… is not.”
Tanvi’s hand found Raghav’s. He held it tightly.
They were caught in something ancient. Something dark.
And it was only getting stronger.
---
