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Chapter One: The House with No Echo

The wind whispered through the trees as the taxi pulled up in front of Hillview House. Aayna Kapoor, her heart pounding with both excitement and a little apprehension, stepped out into the thick fog that seemed to blanket everything. The mansion before her was large, with stone walls covered in ivy, its windows like eyes watching her every move.

The caretaker, an old woman with silver hair, greeted her with a distant smile. “Welcome, Miss Kapoor. You’re the last one to arrive.” Her voice was brittle, almost fragile, as though each word took a great effort to say. “Your room is upstairs, Room 7. But remember… this house has its secrets.”

Aayna smiled politely, though the warning felt strange and unnecessary. It’s just an old house, she thought. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

But as she made her way inside, the air felt thick. Not in a musty way, but in a way that made her feel… watched. The hallways were narrow, dimly lit by faint light from chandeliers that had clearly seen better days. The silence was almost too perfect, broken only by the soft echo of her footsteps on the cold, wooden floor.

Her room was at the end of the hall, a small, quiet place with an old bed covered in faded sheets. A window overlooked the sprawling pine forest below, and the only furniture was a desk with an antique mirror mounted on the wall. The mirror was huge — almost too big for the room — and framed in intricate wood carvings, which looked like strange symbols.

As she set her bag down on the bed, a chill crept through the room. Aayna shivered slightly and walked over to the mirror, wiping away the dust that had collected on the glass. The symbols around the frame seemed to shift when she looked at them, but she shook it off, telling herself it was just her imagination.

Her reflection stared back at her, but it was… different.

The moment she gazed into the mirror, she felt a sudden connection, as if the glass wasn’t just reflecting her, but was showing something else entirely. Someone else.

A tall figure stood behind her, his face partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes… those eyes were unmistakable. They were dark, almost haunting, and they stared at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Aayna’s breath hitched. She turned around quickly.

Nothing.

She scanned the room, her pulse racing, but the space was empty. The silence felt oppressive now, as if the house was holding its breath.

It’s just my nerves, she thought, forcing herself to relax. You’re imagining things, Aayna. It’s an old house, with old mirrors.

She went to bed that night, but sleep wouldn’t come. The image of the boy in the mirror haunted her thoughts. He wasn’t just a reflection; he felt… real.

Around midnight, the air grew colder. Aayna woke up with a start, a strange feeling creeping over her. She wasn’t alone.

The mirror across the room caught her attention, glowing faintly in the darkness. She sat up in bed, her eyes fixed on it. No, she thought. Not again.

But she couldn’t look away. Her body was frozen as if the mirror was calling her, pulling her toward it.

This time, the boy was clearer.

He stood closer. His dark eyes were now fixed on her, and his mouth moved — as if saying something she couldn’t hear. The reflection was eerily lifelike. The boy was dressed in a uniform similar to the one Aayna wore at college. But there was something about him that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Who are you?” she whispered, but her voice seemed to disappear into the still air.

His lips curled into a slight, knowing smile, and then, as if something unseen shifted, the glass fogged up. Slowly, words appeared, written in what seemed like condensation. The letters were jagged, not smooth — as if someone had forced them into the mirror.

“Don’t trust what you see. Especially me.”

Aayna’s heart stopped. Her eyes darted back to the reflection. The boy’s smile faded, replaced by a look of fear.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the house.

Aayna bolted upright, her breath shallow. She glanced towards the door — footsteps.

Someone was coming.

The silence was shattered.

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Chapter Two: The Locked Door

Aayna’s breath hitched as she pulled the blanket closer, the echo of crashing glass still ringing in her ears. She jumped out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor as she moved toward the door. Every step felt heavier than the last. In the hallway, silence had returned—but it was the kind that made your skin prickle.

She peeked out.

Nothing.

Just that long corridor of antique wood, old paintings, and quiet dread. But then, she saw it—Room 9’s door was open.

She remembered what the caretaker had said:

"That room hasn’t been used in years."

And yet now, it stood wide open.

Compelled by something she couldn’t explain, Aayna stepped into the hallway, heart racing. As she approached Room 9, the air grew colder, heavier. The chandelier above flickered softly as if the house itself was holding its breath.

She pushed the door gently. It creaked open.

Inside, moonlight spilled through a sheer curtain, casting silvery shadows on the dusty floor. The room was surprisingly clean, like someone had just left minutes ago. A chair near the window was pulled out, and a faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.

Then she saw him.

The boy from the mirror.

He was sitting on the windowsill, one leg dangling casually, the other propped up. His eyes met hers without hesitation, as if he had been waiting.

“You took longer than I thought,” he said.

Aayna took a step back. “Who... who are you?”

“I already told you,” he said, voice calm, “My name’s Krish.”

“No,” she said, her voice trembling, “You were in the mirror. You aren’t supposed to exist.”

Krish tilted his head. “Maybe neither are you.”

His words hit her like a wave, strange and unsettling.

“What do you mean by that?” she whispered.

He stood up and walked toward her, not in a threatening way, but slowly, almost carefully. “You’re not here by accident, Aayna. The house… the mirror… it chose you.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You will. Soon.” He paused. “The mirror doesn’t show the future. It shows the truth—hidden truths, forgotten ones. But sometimes... it lies.”

Her eyes searched his face. He looked young, like her—maybe a year or two older. But there was something in his gaze, something ancient. Broken.

“Are you…” She hesitated, unsure how to ask it. “Are you alive?”

His smile was gentle but sad. “Define alive.”

Before she could speak again, a loud knock echoed from downstairs. Both of them turned toward the sound.

BANG.

Then another.

BANG.

The front door.

“Don’t open it,” Krish said suddenly, grabbing her wrist. “Whatever you do, don’t go down there.”

“But what if it’s—”

“Trust me.” His voice was firm now. “That’s not someone knocking. It’s something.”

Aayna’s heart hammered in her chest.

She wanted to run, scream, wake up from whatever this was. But deep down… she knew she wasn’t dreaming.

Krish let go of her wrist, but his eyes held hers. “There are rules in this house. Rule number one: never open the mirror at night. Rule number two: never answer the door after midnight. And rule number three…” he paused, voice low, “Don’t fall in love with someone who isn’t real.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

The knock downstairs came one last time.

Then silence.

And then—faintly—from the mirror in her own room, came a whisper.

“She’s not the first… but she must be the last.”

Chapter Three: The Boy Who Belonged to Silence

The next morning, Hillview House looked ordinary again. Sunlight slipped through the curtains, birds chirped faintly outside, and Aayna could almost believe the night before had been some sort of bizarre dream.

Almost.

Except the mirror now had a single crack—thin, like a scar—and Room 9’s door was closed again, locked tight as if it had never opened at all.

Krish was nowhere to be seen.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the edge of the mirror. The words from the night before were gone, wiped clean like they were never there. But the chill in the air hadn’t left, and neither had the feeling that something was watching her.

Later that afternoon, she snuck back toward Room 9. She had to know more—who he was, why he knew her name, what this house was hiding.

She didn’t expect the door to open so easily.

Inside, the room was darker than before, and the scent of lavender had been replaced with old paper and dust. A journal lay on the bed. Worn, leather-bound, its edges frayed from years of being read and reread.

Aayna hesitated… and then opened it.

The first page was filled with neat handwriting.

“My name is Krish Malhotra. I was seventeen when I came to Hillview. I was alive when I arrived. I’m not sure I am anymore.”

A chill crawled up her spine.

Each page unfolded a different piece of him. His words were calm but filled with quiet despair. He had been a scholarship student, sent to Hillview Boarding School years ago—decades, if her guess was right. But there was no mention of the school anymore. The mansion had since been turned into a residential guesthouse for artists and students like her.

So what happened?

She read on.

“It started with the mirror. Room 7. I saw things I shouldn’t have—my reflection showing futures I didn’t recognize, moments I hadn’t lived. I saw myself bleeding, calling for help. And then one day, I saw her.”

Aayna paused.

Her breath caught.

“She was laughing, wearing a silver bracelet. The light in her eyes… it made me forget the mirror was cursed.”

The bracelet. The one on Aayna’s wrist right now—her late grandmother’s gift.

The next entry was different.

“They told me to stop writing. Said I was losing my mind. But I knew the mirror was doing something—erasing time, folding it, bending it. Then people started disappearing. First my roommate, then a teacher. But no one else remembered them. No one but me.”

Page after page detailed strange disappearances, twisted visions in the mirror, and a growing madness in the house. Until the entries abruptly stopped.

Aayna flipped ahead.

There was one final page.

Dated exactly ten years ago.

“I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I don’t sleep anymore. I don’t eat. But I still feel. And I wait… for her. I know she’ll come one day. The girl with the silver bracelet. The one I saw before the mirror cracked.”

Her hands trembled.

He had seen her before she ever arrived.

A creak came from behind her.

She turned—he stood there. Krish.

Not smiling this time. Not teasing.

“Why did you stop writing?” she whispered.

His voice was softer than ever. “Because I stopped believing I was real.”

She reached out slowly, her fingers brushing his. He was warm. Solid. But there was something not quite… present about him.

“Am I dreaming this?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, “You’re the only thing real in this place now.”

Tears prickled at her eyes. “What happened to you, Krish?”

His gaze dropped.

“The mirror needed a soul. It chose mine.”

Aayna stepped back in disbelief.

“You died?”

Krish shook his head slowly. “No… I became a part of the house. A part of its memory.”

He looked at her again.

“You can still leave, Aayna. But if you stay… you’ll never be just a guest anymore.”

She stared at him—this boy who had loved her before they’d even met, who had waited through silence and shadow just for a moment like this.

And all she could say was:

“What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”