The rooftop was too quiet.
Junaid's breath puffed out in sharp clouds as the cold settled deeper into his bones. That word—REMEMBER—glared back at him, still wet, the dripping letters inching down the railing like blood refusing to freeze. He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, but it stayed.
His phone buzzed again.
Another text from the same unknown number:
"Don't look for her. You won't like what you find."
He stared at the screen, jaw clenched, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Screw that. He called back.
No ring. Just silence. Then, click—the line connected.
A soft, distorted voice answered.
Not a man. Not a woman. Like both. Or neither.
"Too late, Junaid. You've already opened the door."
Click.
The line went dead.
His heart pounded like it wanted out of his chest. Rahil was saying something behind him—asking what was going on, telling him this wasn't funny—but Junaid didn't hear. His feet moved on their own, heading to the edge of the rooftop. His eyes scanned everything: the quiet street far below, the other buildings, the empty air where Simran should've been.
He pressed both palms to the cold metal of the railing, as if somehow touching it might pull her back.
Nothing.
Until—
A faint tap tap tap behind him.
He turned.
The rooftop door had shut.
But now… it opened slowly. All by itself.
Rahil hadn't touched it. He was standing a few steps away, arms folded, frozen in place. "Bro, this is… not right."
Junaid didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the dark stairwell beyond the door.
From it came a whisper.
"Downstairs."
A different voice now. Her voice.
Simran's voice.
He ran.
Ground Floor –Abandoned Classroom
The corridor was dim—power flickering, emergency lights sputtering in orange-red hues. Junaid stormed down, not caring about the creaks beneath his feet or the hum of something… unnatural vibrating through the walls.
He stopped in front of the old classroom at the end of the hall. The one that had been sealed up since last year's fire. The one nobody entered.
But the door was ajar.
And from inside came that same frost-chill. The same static in the air.
And a sound.
Humming.
Soft. Childlike. Unearthly.
Junaid pushed the door.
The room was empty—at first glance.
Then he saw her.
Simran.
In the center of the room, facing away from him, standing still as stone. Her long hair was swaying ever so slightly, though there was no wind.
"Simran?" he whispered.
She didn't move.
He stepped closer. Slowly.
"Simran, what the hell happened? You just vanished."
Still nothing. Not even a breath.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of her sleeve.
Instantly—
Everything snapped.
The lights exploded. A scream tore through the air—hers. But her mouth wasn't moving.
It came from her, but she wasn't screaming.
The walls bled frost. The floor cracked beneath him.
And finally—she turned.
Her eyes met his.
But they weren't her eyes.
They were black. Entirely. No whites, no light. Just darkness and reflection.
And she smiled.
But it wasn't her smile.
"Junaid," the thing said with her voice, "you really shouldn't have kissed me."
He stumbled back. "What the fuck are you—what did you do with her?"
"She's here," it said, tapping its temple. "And she remembers everything."
Then—
Her body collapsed.
Like a puppet with cut strings.
He rushed forward, catching her before she hit the floor. She was ice-cold. Her skin was pale. But she was breathing—barely.
Her lips moved.
He leaned in.
And she whispered, not with fear, but with a warning:
"Don't let her out. The one who came before me. She wants your name."
His phone buzzed again.
He checked it.
A new message.
"Too late. She already knows it."
And on Simran's wrist, beneath her sleeve, carved freshly into her skin:
JUNAID.
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Author's note:- I'm sorry for not updating.. The thing is that I am too sick to write I got discharged from the hospital a few days ago and I am given 5 days bed rest...😭🥲
So since I'm trying my best... please support me...