The house stood at the end of the narrow lane, quiet… almost forgotten.
Riya noticed it the moment the car stopped.
It wasn't broken. It wasn't old in the usual way. The paint was still there, the windows intact, the gate only slightly rusted. And yet… something about it felt wrong.
Too still.
Too silent.
"Come on, Riya," her mother called, stepping out of the car. "Help with the bags."
Riya didn't move immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the second-floor window.
For a second—just a second—she thought she saw something move behind the glass.
A shadow.
Or maybe…
She blinked.
Nothing.
"Riya!" her father snapped this time.
"Yeah… coming."
She grabbed her bag and stepped out, the gravel crunching loudly under her feet. The sound echoed more than it should have, as if the house was listening.
Inside, the air felt cold.
Not the normal kind of cold—but the kind that creeps under your skin.
"This place just needs a little cleaning," her mother said, forcing a smile. "It'll feel like home in no time."
Home.
Riya glanced around.
The furniture was already there—covered in white sheets. The walls were pale, almost gray, and the hallway stretched longer than it should have.
There were too many doors.
"Why are there so many rooms?" she muttered.
"What?" her father asked.
"Nothing."
But she counted again.
One… two… three…
Seven doors.
On just one side of the hallway.
By evening, most of the unpacking was done.
Riya's room was on the second floor—the same floor as the window.
The same window.
She stood in front of it now, looking outside. The lane was empty. No children, no people, no sound of life.
"Strange place," she whispered.
As she turned back into the room, her eyes fell on the mirror.
It was tall, old-fashioned, placed in the corner. Covered with a thin cloth.
"That's creepy," she muttered.
She walked over and pulled the cloth off.
The mirror was clean.
Too clean.
For a moment, she just stared at her reflection.
Same face.
Same tired eyes.
Same… everything.
But something felt off.
Riya leaned closer.
Her reflection did the same.
Closer.
Closer.
And then—
She froze.
For a fraction of a second…
She thought she saw another eye.
Right behind her.
Not in the room.
In the mirror.
She spun around instantly.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
Her heart started racing.
"Okay… okay… just your imagination," she whispered, forcing a nervous laugh.
Slowly, she turned back to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back.
Normal.
Completely normal.
She stepped away.
"Yeah… I need sleep."
Night fell faster than she expected.
The house became quieter.
Too quiet.
No sounds from outside.
No distant traffic.
Nothing.
Riya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
She checked her phone.
2:13 AM.
She sighed and turned to her side.
That's when she heard it.
A soft sound.
Click.
Her eyes snapped open.
The door.
She was sure she had locked it.
Slowly… very slowly… she sat up.
The door was slightly open.
Just a little.
Darkness filled the gap.
"Mom?" she called softly.
No response.
The air felt colder.
Heavier.
Then—
Another sound.
From behind her.
A faint… almost silent whisper.
She couldn't understand the words.
But she felt them.
Right near her ear.
Riya turned slowly toward the mirror.
And this time—
She didn't need to imagine.
Because in the mirror…
There was something standing behind her.
And it wasn't human.