The old Tata truck rattled down the lonely highway, its headlights carving two pale tunnels into the endless dark. Inside, the air smelled of diesel, sweat, and the faint aroma of cheap tobacco. Aarav shifted in the passenger seat, pressing his cheek against the cool glass of the window. He had ridden with his father hundreds of times before, but tonight… tonight felt different.
The road was too quiet.
Normally, the highways at night carried a strange kind of life. A tea stall or two glowing faintly in the distance, stray dogs chasing after tires, another truck honking impatiently as it thundered past. But here, the fields stretched out like oceans of black, and the sky above was an enormous void filled with stars that twinkled like cold eyes watching him.
"Strange night," his father muttered, tapping his calloused fingers on the steering wheel. His voice carried a heaviness Aarav wasn't used to. This was a man who had hauled goods across the country for decades, through monsoon rains and scorching deserts. If he felt uneasy, there had to be a reason.
Aarav forced a laugh. "Maybe everyone just decided to sleep early today."
His father grunted, eyes fixed on the road.
The truck's old engine growled, every vibration echoing up through Aarav's feet. He yawned and shifted again, trying to shake off the drowsiness. For a moment, he thought he might drift off. But then, a chill ran over his skin, so sharp it made him shiver. He rubbed his arms. The windows were rolled tight, no air was seeping in, yet it felt like someone had opened a freezer door inside the cabin.
"Cold?" his father asked, not glancing away from the road.
"Yeah… a little," Aarav murmured, hugging himself.
The silence deepened. Not a single vehicle appeared from behind, not one light ahead. Even the chirping of crickets that usually filled the night air had vanished. It was as though the world had gone mute.
Aarav swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Baba… doesn't this feel… strange to you?"
His father's knuckles tightened around the wheel. "Don't think too much. Roads have moods. Some nights they talk, some nights they stay silent."
Aarav blinked. He had never heard his father say something like that before.
"Roads… talk?" he whispered.
His father didn't answer. His eyes, usually heavy but calm, looked sharper than usual, scanning the dark road ahead like a hunter searching for prey.
Trying to distract himself, Aarav pulled out his phone, but the signal bar flickered weakly and then vanished completely. No network. He sighed and shoved it back into his pocket. The longer he stared outside, the more restless he felt. The black fields seemed to stretch forever, swallowing even the faint outlines of trees.
Then it happened.
A flicker of movement, quick and thin, darted across the road ahead.
"Did you see that?" Aarav shot upright, pointing at the windshield.
His father didn't answer, just pressed harder on the accelerator.
Aarav twisted around in his seat, searching the darkness. "Baba, something—someone—just crossed the road!"
"Keep your eyes front," his father said, voice low, tense. "Don't look back."
Aarav froze. The tone in his father's voice sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the usual sternness he used when Aarav asked too many questions. This was fear. Real, bone-deep fear.
The engine roared louder as the truck picked up speed. The rattling grew harsher, shaking every bolt and metal plate. Aarav gripped the dashboard, his heart pounding in his chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it again. A figure. Standing by the roadside, pale and thin, almost glowing in the darkness.
His breath caught. It was a woman.
She stood still as stone, her long white sari fluttering in a wind that wasn't there. Her hair spilled over her face, hiding her features, but even through the curtain of strands, Aarav swore he saw eyes—empty, endless, staring straight at him.
"Baba…" Aarav whispered, voice trembling. "There's someone standing there—"
"Don't look!" his father snapped, slamming a palm on the steering wheel. "Don't you dare look!"
But Aarav couldn't tear his gaze away. The woman didn't move, didn't blink. Just stood there on the edge of the road as the truck thundered past.
And then, impossibly, she was there again.
Ten feet ahead.
Standing right in the middle of the road.
"Baba!" Aarav screamed.
His father cursed, yanking the wheel to the side. The truck screeched as tires skidded against the asphalt. Metal groaned, boxes rattled in the back. Aarav felt his body slam against the door, his seatbelt biting into his chest.
The headlights caught her fully this time. Her face was pale as bone, her lips stretched in something that wasn't quite a smile. For a split second, Aarav's eyes locked with hers—and in that instant, he felt as though something icy had reached out and gripped his very soul.
The truck veered off the road, plunging into the dirt. His father wrestled with the steering wheel, but the weight of the cargo dragged them forward. With a thunderous crash, the truck slammed into a ditch, the windshield cracking with a spiderweb of lines.
The world spun. Aarav's vision blurred, his ears ringing.
When the dust finally settled, he gasped for air, chest heaving. His father groaned beside him, clutching his shoulder.
"Baba! Are you okay?" Aarav cried, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. His hands shook as he tried to help his father sit upright.
"I'm fine…" his father winced, blood trickling from his forehead. "Just… stay still."
Aarav's head was spinning, but he forced himself to stay alert. He looked out the shattered window. The road ahead was empty. No woman. No one at all.
Had he imagined it? No—he had seen her. Felt her eyes burning into him.
A sudden chill spread through the cabin. The hair on his arms stood on end.
Slowly, painfully, Aarav turned his head toward the side mirror.
There, in the reflection, stood the woman.
Right behind the truck.
Her lips curled into a slow, unnatural smile.
Aarav's heart nearly stopped.