From the several days, Ahaan had tried to avoid the book. After the haunted bell and the burnt students, he needed a break. But his life wasn't normal anymore. He knew that.
Still, when he woke up on a Sunday morning, he wasn't expecting what he saw.
There was a new door in the hallway of his house.
Ahaan blinked twice. Rubbed his eyes.
It was there. A wooden door between his bathroom and his sister's room.
But he knew there was nothing there yesterday.
He walked toward it slowly.
The door looked old — older than the house. The paint was peeling. There were tiny claw marks near the bottom, and the doorknob was ice cold.
He touched it.
And the candle on his desk lit by itself.
Ahaan ran back into his room. The book had already opened.
It was glowing with a deep red light.
CASE SEVEN:
"The Room That Wasn't There Yesterday"
Some doors open from the outside.
Some are pushed open from the inside.
If a room appears without permission —
it didn't come alone.
Ahaan shivered.
He stared at the strange door. It didn't make sense.
Was this another legend?
Or… had something followed him home?
That night, while everyone was asleep, Ahaan sat in front of the new door.
He placed the candle and the book beside him.
The door didn't make a sound.
But something inside did.
Shhhh… tap… shhhh…
Like footsteps on carpet.
He pressed his ear to the wood.
A faint whisper came through.
"I left something inside… please help me find it…"
It was a child's voice.
But… it was his own voice.
Ahaan jumped back, heart pounding.
That wasn't a recording.
It was something else.
He took a deep breath, picked up the candle, and turned the knob.
The door opened.
Behind it was a completely new room.
Not just empty space — a real room. With faded wallpaper, dusty toys, an old rocking horse in the corner… and a small bed.
Everything looked like it belonged to a child from fifty years ago.
He stepped inside.
The air was cold. Smelled like old books and forgotten dreams.
As soon as he entered, the door slammed shut behind him.
The candle flickered violently.
And in the corner of the room…
…a figure was sitting on the bed.
It was a little boy.
Maybe eight years old.
He had short black hair, no shoes, and wore a gray shirt with Ahaan's name stitched on the collar.
But his face was turned away.
Still.
Unmoving.
Ahaan whispered, "Who are you?"
The boy didn't answer.
Instead, he lifted his hand… and pointed to the closet.
Ahaan turned slowly.
The closet door creaked open on its own.
Inside was… nothing.
Just a mirror.
Cracked. Covered in fingerprints.
He stepped closer.
The reflection showed two Ahaans standing side by side — but only one was real.
The second one was smiling strangely. Eyes too wide.
Mouth stitched shut.
Suddenly, the mirror fogged up… and a message wrote itself across the glass:
"THIS ROOM BELONGS TO HIM NOW."
Ahaan backed away.
The boy on the bed finally turned his head.
His face was exactly like Ahaan's.
But his skin was pale.
His eyes were completely white.
His mouth was sewed closed with black thread.
He wasn't alive.
He wasn't dead.
He was waiting.
The book in Ahaan's hands flipped violently.
Words scratched themselves across the page:
"Twins of the Forgotten Room. One must leave.
The other will remain."
"What does that mean?!" Ahaan shouted.
Suddenly, the candle blew out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
A voice came from all sides.
A voice that sounded like his own — but deeper. Hungrier.
"You keep walking into places that were not meant for you.
This room was left empty for me.
But you opened the door.
Now you must choose:
Stay here forever…
Or let me go out in your place."
Ahaan gasped.
This wasn't just a ghost.
It was a replacement.
A fake version of him, waiting for someone to open the door so it could take their life.
Ahaan thought quickly.
He looked at the boy — the stitched-mouth version of himself.
He remembered something from the bell tower — how spirits don't always want revenge… sometimes they want recognition.
He walked up to the boy and said, "You were forgotten, weren't you?"
The boy didn't move.
"You were left behind in this house. In this room that got erased from time. But I see you now."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo — one of himself from his 8th birthday.
He placed it on the bed beside the boy.
"I remember you."
The room shook.
Walls cracked.
The mirror shattered.
The boy's stitches slowly unwound themselves.
His mouth opened.
And he whispered just one word:
"Free."
Then he faded — like dust in sunlight.
The door burst open behind Ahaan.
Light poured in.
He ran out, heart thudding, and looked back.
The room was gone.
Just wall.
As if it had never existed.
The next morning, Ahaan's mom asked, "Did you move furniture last night?"
"No," Ahaan said carefully. "Why?"
"Because I swear there was a door in the hallway earlier. Now it's just wall."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. Sometimes rooms disappear."
Later that day, the book wrote a final message for the case:
"Some ghosts aren't trapped by walls.
They're trapped by being forgotten."
Whats now....