The Last Call at 2:17 A.M.
The rain had not stopped for three days.
It fell like the sky was trying to wash away something terrible. The streets of Dharwad were empty, the power flickering every few minutes. It was 2:14 A.M. when Aarav's phone vibrated on the wooden table beside his bed.
He ignored it.
Unknown number.
Again it rang.
He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Only heavy breathing.
"Hello? Who is this?"
The call disconnected.
He stared at the screen.
Call duration: 00:12 seconds.
He felt uneasy.
Three minutes later, at exactly 2:17 A.M., the phone rang again.
The same number.
This time, he answered immediately.
A whisper came through.
"Don't open the door."
The line went dead.
Aarav froze.
His heart started beating faster.
He lived alone in a small rented house near the old railway line. His parents were in the village. He worked in an accounting firm and usually stayed up late finishing GST files and balance sheets. But tonight, he had gone to bed early.
The rain grew louder.
Then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Aarav's throat went dry.
He looked at the clock.
2:19 A.M.
Another knock.
"Who's there?" he shouted.
No reply.
He remembered the whisper.
Don't open the door.
His hands trembled.
Maybe it was just someone asking for help. Maybe someone's vehicle broke down. Or maybe it was a prank.
Knock.
This time harder.
The lights flickered.
And went out.
Total darkness.
The rain. The wind. The knocking.
His phone flashlight was the only light in the house.
He slowly walked toward the door.
Another knock.
Closer now.
Almost angry.
"Aarav…"
His blood turned cold.
He never told anyone his address except his office manager.
Who was outside?
He backed away.
The phone vibrated again.
2:23 A.M.
Same number.
He answered.
A shaky voice spoke quickly:
"If you open the door, you won't see tomorrow."
"Who are you?" Aarav whispered.
"I'm the only reason you're still alive."
The line cut.
Aarav's breathing became heavy.
The knocking stopped.
Suddenly.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the rain seemed distant.
He stood there for almost five minutes.
Nothing.
No sound.
Slowly, he gathered courage and walked toward the window beside the door.
He slightly pulled the curtain aside.
And froze.
There was someone standing outside.
A tall figure.
Wearing a black raincoat.
Face hidden in darkness.
Just standing.
Not moving.
Watching.
Aarav stepped back immediately.
His heart was racing.
The figure suddenly turned its head toward the window.
Did it see him?
The streetlight flickered for a second—
And revealed something horrifying.
The face.
It was not clear.
But it looked…
Like his own.
Aarav stumbled back.
"No… that's impossible."
He had seen his own face outside.
Same hair. Same height. Same eyes.
The streetlight went off again.
Darkness swallowed everything.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
"He can't enter unless you let him."
Aarav felt like screaming.
Who was playing this sick game?
He dialed the number back.
It said:
"Number does not exist."
Suddenly—
A loud bang on the door.
This time violent.
The door shook.
"AARAV!" the voice screamed.
It was his voice.
Exactly his voice.
His legs felt weak.
He remembered something strange.
Earlier that evening, on his way back from office, he had crossed the railway track shortcut. There was an accident. A man had died on the tracks.
People were whispering that the man looked exactly like someone from the city.
Aarav had ignored it.
Now his mind replayed that scene.
The body.
The face covered in blood.
What if—
Another bang.
The latch started breaking.
He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it.
The door cracked slightly.
Water seeped inside.
A pale hand pushed through the gap.
It looked human.
But something was wrong.
The skin looked grey.
Almost lifeless.
The voice outside whispered softly:
"You left me there…"
Aarav's mind flashed.
He remembered.
That night.
Three years ago.
The accident.
He had been driving late.
Rainy night.
He hit someone on the highway.
The man looked exactly like him.
Same age. Same face.
He panicked.
Instead of helping, he drove away.
The next day, the news said an unidentified man died near the railway crossing.
Aarav never told anyone.
He convinced himself it was not his fault.
But now—
The door burst open.
Wind rushed inside.
The figure stepped in slowly.
Dripping water.
Face pale.
Eyes empty.
It was him.
Standing face to face with himself.
The double smiled.
A twisted smile.
"You thought you could escape?"
Aarav stepped back.
"This is not real… this is not real…"
The double moved closer.
"With every lie, I grow stronger."
The lights suddenly came back.
Bright.
Blinding.
The figure vanished.
The door was closed again.
Everything normal.
No water.
No broken latch.
No footprints.
Aarav stood alone in his living room.
Sweating.
Shaking.
Was it a dream?
His phone vibrated.
New message.
"Confess."
He dropped the knife.
His conscience was screaming louder than the storm.
He ran outside.
The rain had stopped.
The streets were empty.
No one there.
No sign of anything.
He fell to his knees.
Crying.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"
The next morning, Aarav walked into the police station.
He confessed everything.
The officer listened carefully.
Then said something shocking.
"That accident three years ago? The man survived."
Aarav's heart stopped.
"What?"
"He was in coma for years. He died last night. 2:17 A.M."
Aarav felt the world spin.
"How… how do you know the time?"
The officer looked confused.
"It was in the hospital report."
Aarav's phone vibrated in his pocket.
He slowly took it out.
One final message.
"Now we're even."
The number disappeared.
Never traced.
Never found.
That night, Aarav returned home.
He slept peacefully for the first time in years.
No knocks.
No calls.
No whispers.
Just silence.
But sometimes…
At exactly 2:17 A.M.,
His phone screen lights up.
No notification.
No message.
Just the clock.
Glowing.
2:17.
🔥 Moral:
You can hide from the world. But you can never hide from your conscience.