The clatter of a ladle against steel echoed from the kitchen.Spices sizzled. Ghee hit the pan with a low hiss. A distant song played from Iravan's phone—a mellow retro tune from some 90s movie, full of soft piano and haunting flute.
Meher sat at the dining table, elbows on wood, chin in hand.Not speaking. Not blinking much either.
He watched the halwa in the pan bubble like lava while Iravan stirred, sleeves rolled up, hair tied in a clean low bun. Muscular arms flexing slightly with each movement, but his expression stayed gentle. Focused.
"It's almost done," Iravan said, voice low, trying to sound normal.
Meher didn't reply.
His eyes were locked on a random smudge on the glass bowl in front of him.
Iravan stirred the halwa in silence for another moment. Then he glanced over, hesitating. Something flickered behind his golden eyes.
"Did you know," he said quietly, "Vihan drowned today?"
The words hung in the air like a noose.
Meher's fingers twitched.
He slowly lifted his head. "What?"
Iravan nodded, face unreadable. "They pulled his body from the river this morning. His father was screaming on the street. His slippers were still on the embankment."
Meher stared. Eyes wide, but hollow.
"He was only eleven," Iravan added. "Same age as when you met him, no?"
Silence.
The chair creaked under Meher as he shifted.
Vihan.The neighborhood kid.Sharp smile. Loud laugh. Bright eyes.Used to run up to Meher and slap his stomach like it was a drum. Used to steal Iravan's biscuits. Used to talk about how he'd become an agent someday, just like Meher.
Dead.
Just hours after Meher collapsed in the hallway and woke in a hospital bed full of fever dreams and ghost-boys.
"How?" Meher asked finally, voice rough.
Iravan didn't answer right away. He took the pan off the stove and let it sit. His eyes didn't leave the halwa.
"Police said it might've been an accident," he said. "But… some people think he was pushed."
Meher blinked.
"By who?"
Iravan finally looked at him.
"That's the scary part, Meher. No one knows. No one saw him go in. No one saw him leave. It was like—" He exhaled. "Like he vanished for a second. And the next second, his body was floating."
Meher sat back. Felt cold despite the warmth of the kitchen. The ghee-smoke was suddenly too much. The soft music too eerie. Everything was too quiet in the wrong way.
He rubbed his temples, feeling the throb behind his eyes.
Iravan's voice softened again. "You two were close. I thought you should know. You can… talk about it, if you want."
But Meher couldn't. Wouldn't.
His mind wasn't on Vihan, not fully.His mind was on:
the body he now occupied
the fictional world he wasn't meant to exist in
the boy by the pond
the distorted scream
and the sharp, brown eyes of Agrasen, watching him like a wolf through the glass.
He swallowed hard.
"I'm fine," he lied.
Iravan didn't push. Just quietly set the halwa down on the table, scooped two portions, and slid one in front of Meher. The steam curled like ghost-fingers in the air.
"Eat while it's warm."
Meher didn't. He just sat there, barely breathing. His legs bounced beneath the table. His heart wouldn't slow down. His head felt full of cotton and nails.
Why me?
Why not some obsessed fan, some devoted reader of the novel?
Why him, of all people—a boy who mocked this world? Who hated the tropes? Who didn't belong?
"You know," he murmured, voice hoarse, "I wasn't supposed to be here."
Iravan paused mid-bite."What do you mean?"
Meher looked down at the halwa, its golden-brown surface shining in the light.And then he chuckled, low and bitter.
"This world… none of it was supposed to be real."
Iravan was silent.
Meher stared down. "And yet I'm sitting here. Eating halwa. While Vihan's body is floating in a morgue."
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
"This isn't fair," he whispered. "None of this is fair."
Iravan's hand moved to Meher's shoulder, resting there gently.
"I don't know what you're going through," he said softly. "But… I'm still here. When you're ready to talk."
Meher didn't answer.And eventually, the room returned to silence.
That night, the dream returned.
But this time, it was different.
He stood in a room drenched in shadow.All four walls were mirrors, but none reflected him.
Only Agrasen.
Only the boy.
They both stood across from him, side by side.
Agrasen in a black suit, tie loosened, eyes dark and calm and so quiet. The boy beside him wore the same white kurta, stained now at the hem. Eyes black pits.
And then, they spoke at once.
"You shouldn't have come here," said Agrasen.
"You shouldn't have come heeeere," the boy echoed, voice warbling.
"This place doesn't forget," Agrasen whispered.
"This place doesn't FORGET," the boy shrieked, mouth stretching again.
Meher stumbled back.
The mirrors shattered.
And behind them—rows and rows of doors.All marked: RESTRICTED.All sealed with symbols that burned when he looked at them.
And behind every door, whispers.
"Meher… Meher… Meher..."
He turned, running down the corridor, heart thundering—
And found himself standing at the pond again.
The boy crouched in the center of it now, water around his ankles.
"MAAAAA—"
He screamed again.
This time, blood burst from his mouth, staining the pond red. His body contorted, bent backward, and his eyes locked with Meher's—
Agrasen's eyes.
Brown. Sharp. Human. Terrifying.
And then, the boy's mouth moved again—
But it was Agrasen's voice that came out.
"Wake up."
Meher snapped awake—except he couldn't move.
He was frozen.
His eyes were open.
The ceiling fan spun above, but he couldn't move a finger. Couldn't breathe right.
And then he saw it.
A shape.
Crawling on the ceiling.
The boy.Face upside-down. Crawling like a spider. Head twitching side to side. Black eyes locked on him.
"Ma…" it whispered.
It scuttled closer. Slowly. Feet upside-down. Neck cracking.
Meher wanted to scream. His chest heaved. His fingers twitched but wouldn't obey. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
The boy dropped—Silently.Onto the floor.
Now crawling toward him. Closer. Closer.
He stopped just beside the bed, rose up on two feet like a puppet pulled by strings.
"You took my place," he whispered.
And then—
The bedroom light clicked on.
The shape vanished in a blink of light.
And Iravan was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, his hand on the switch.
His eyes locked on Meher, face pale.
"You were thrashing."
Meher gasped—finally moving—sitting up with a jolt, breath like knives.
Iravan rushed over. "Hey. Hey—look at me."
Meher's chest heaved. He gripped Iravan's wrist like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.
Iravan cupped his face, brushing sweat from his temple.
"You're safe," he said softly. "It was just a dream."
But Meher knew better.
That boy?
Wasn't a dream.
That voice?
Was Agrasen's.
Something wasn't just wrong with this world.
Something was waiting in it.