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Electronic City, Bangalore
A tech jungle by day, a ghost town by night.
On the 5th floor of a fading PG building stood Room 501—small, silent, and always a few degrees colder than the rest.
This is where Chitish, 25, lived alone.
He wasn’t antisocial. In fact, he tried.
He smiled at colleagues. Shared food with PG mates. Spoke kindly to strangers.
But no matter what he did—he remained invisible.
He watched others fall in love, plan dates, hold hands—and wondered what he lacked.
“Maybe I’m not good enough,” he’d whisper to his mirror.
“Maybe I don’t know how to talk right.”
Sometimes he even stared at his reflection and thought, “Maybe I’m just… ugly.”
He craved someone—not just to love, but to see him. Really see him.
But every night, he returned to Room 501. Alone. Again.
He wanted to have someone, whom he can share about his day, who would be listening him and support him.
The Beginning of Terror
It started with a blackout. The entire building went dark.
Chitish lay in bed, phone battery at 1%, the air unnaturally still. The silence was so sharp, it felt like it was listening to him.
Then—a shift.
The temperature dropped.
A soft creak came from the corner of the room.
He sat up.
Then came a whisper.
“Why are you so sad?”
His heart stopped.
“Who’s there?” he said, voice cracking.
No reply.
But then, a soft, cold breath touched his cheek… and a second whisper.
“I’ve felt it too…”
Lightning lit the room—and for half a second, he saw her.
A woman. Pale. Eyes sunken but full of pain. Long hair hanging loose, a dull white kurta. And just as he blinked and gone.
The Fear Grows
Every night, she returned.
Not always visible. But there. In the dark. In the silence. Sometimes by the window. Sometimes at the edge of the bed.
He was terrified… but also drawn in.
Until one night, he dared to ask:
“Who are you?”
The air answered slowly.
“Kritika. I used to live… right here. In this room.”
Her Death, Her Story
She told him everything.
She had been a software engineer. Smart. Independent. Bengali, like him. Moved to Bangalore with the same hopes.
But the job broke her.
Endless deadlines. No sleep. No support. Fake smiles at work. Panic attacks at 2 a.m.
“I used to stare at this same ceiling… wondering if anyone would care if I just disappeared.”
She cracked one night—completely. After a brutal client call, a missed promotion, and crying alone in the washroom.
“I didn’t want to die… but I didn’t know how to live anymore.”
She hung herself. Right there. In Room 501.
No note. No one came for days.
“I thought death would free me. But I stayed. Trapped. Alone… until you came.”
Fear Becomes Love
Chitish stopped fearing her. He started waiting for her.
Every night, he would turn off the lights—and she would come. They talked. Not as ghost and man. But as two broken souls.
He told her everything—his doubts, his failures, how he felt invisible.
And she listened. She understood. She’d lived that pain too.
Sometimes, he’d find his books mysteriously sorted and a clean room. A broken charger fixed. A note on the mirror:
“You’re stronger than you think.”
He laughed again—for the first time in months.
She’d sit on his bed while he read her poetry. He’d play old Bengali songs softly in the background, and she would hum along.
"Majhe Majhe Tobo Dekha Pai, Chiro Dini Kano Pai Na..."
The Most Unusual Love Story
They couldn’t touch.
She couldn't live.
He couldn’t leave her.
One night, he whispered, “If you had stayed alive, would you have loved me?”
She smiled faintly in the dark.
“I already do.”
Eternal Room 501
Neighbors sometimes said they heard whispers from 501 at night. Two voices. One male. One… echoing.
No one could explain why Chitish never moved out, even when offered better places.
But he had what he needed.
In the heart of a sleepless city, he had found love—not in the light, but in the shadow of someone who once wanted to be seen.
And every night, when the world faded away,
a boy with a tired heart
and a girl with a broken soul
held each other in the silence
of a room that once swallowed them whole.
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