"Whatever you do," the priest had said,
"Don't open the door with the bell painted on it."
So naturally, Aarohi opened it.
It was the only locked room in their guesthouse.
Small bell symbol on the door. Rusted knob.
No key.
But that night, the door was already open.
"Hello?" Aarohi whispered.
No answer.
Just a faint cold drifting from the darkness inside.
She stepped in.
It was a mirror room.
Four walls.
Four mirrors.
A single diya burning in the center.
The flame didn't flicker.
Aarohi stared at the nearest mirror.
Her reflection wasn't there.
The mirror showed the room — diya, walls, corners — but not her.
She moved closer to the next mirror.
This one showed her.
But not moving.
The reflection was frozen.
Her eyes in the mirror weren't blinking.
"Okay. That's enough Twilight Zone for one day," she muttered.
She turned to leave —
—but the door had closed.
She didn't close it.
It closed by itself.
Ishaan found her ten minutes later, frozen, silent.
She was standing in front of the mirror — the one with no reflection.
He called her name once.
Twice.
Her eyes moved. Slowly.
"It doesn't show me," she whispered.
"Then what does it show?"
Aarohi looked at him.
"You."
Vivan entered behind them. He looked horrified.
"You went in there?"
Aarohi: "Wow, thanks for the timely memo, Sensei."
"That room was sealed in 1996. A girl was last seen inside that mirror. Her reflection stayed behind. Her body never left."
Ishaan blinked.
"What was her name?"
Vivan whispered:
"Vrinda."
Aarohi's breath caught.
"Wait. VRINDA as in—?"
"The original girl Nidhivan is named after."
That night, Aarohi had a dream.
Or a memory.
A girl in yellow robes.
Sitting in a circle of mirrors.
She looked up and said:
"You've come back late, Arohi."
Aarohi jolted awake — her wrist burning again.
The Sanskrit mark had changed again.
"जैसे पहले था"
"As it was before."
"Whatever you do," the priest had said,
"Don't open the door with the bell painted on it."
So naturally, Aarohi opened it.
It was the only locked room in their guesthouse.
Small bell symbol on the door. Rusted knob.
No key.
But that night, the door was already open.
"Hello?" Aarohi whispered.
No answer.
Just a faint cold drifting from the darkness inside.
She stepped in.
It was a mirror room.
Four walls.
Four mirrors.
A single diya burning in the center.
The flame didn't flicker.
Aarohi stared at the nearest mirror.
Her reflection wasn't there.
The mirror showed the room — diya, walls, corners — but not her.
She moved closer to the next mirror.
This one showed her.
But not moving.
The reflection was frozen.
Her eyes in the mirror weren't blinking.
"Okay. That's enough Twilight Zone for one day," she muttered.
She turned to leave —
—but the door had closed.
She didn't close it.
It closed by itself.
Ishaan found her ten minutes later, frozen, silent.
She was standing in front of the mirror — the one with no reflection.
He called her name once.
Twice.
Her eyes moved. Slowly.
"It doesn't show me," she whispered.
"Then what does it show?"
Aarohi looked at him.
"You."
Vivan entered behind them. He looked horrified.
"You went in there?"
Aarohi: "Wow, thanks for the timely memo, Sensei."
"That room was sealed in 1996. A girl was last seen inside that mirror. Her reflection stayed behind. Her body never left."
Ishaan blinked.
"What was her name?"
Vivan whispered:
"Vrinda."
Aarohi's breath caught.
"Wait. VRINDA as in—?"
"The original girl Nidhivan is named after."
That night, Aarohi had a dream.
Or a memory.
A girl in yellow robes.
Sitting in a circle of mirrors.
She looked up and said:
"You've come back late, Arohi."
Aarohi jolted awake — her wrist burning again.
The Sanskrit mark had changed again.
"जैसे पहले था"
"As it was before."