The first thing Meera noticed about the flat was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind. Not the comforting kind.
This silence felt… watchful.
Flat No. 703 was on the seventh floor of Shantiniketan Residency, an old but well-maintained building tucked away from the noise of the main road. The rent was surprisingly low for a fully furnished apartment in such a decent locality. The broker had smiled too much while handing her the keys.
"Previous tenant left in a hurry," he had said. "You're lucky."
Meera had smiled back. She needed lucky.
A new job. A new city. A fresh start after a year she didn't want to remember.
The lift had groaned as it climbed up. The corridor outside 703 smelled faintly of phenyl and something older… like closed rooms and forgotten air.
She unlocked the door.
The flat was beautiful.
Cream walls. Wooden flooring. A large window in the living room that let in soft afternoon light. Clean kitchen. Neat bedroom. Everything in place as if someone had just stepped out for a walk and would return any moment.
That thought made her uncomfortable.
She walked inside slowly.
Her footsteps echoed more than they should have.
"Hello?" she called out, laughing at herself immediately after.
Of course nobody was there.
She dropped her bag on the sofa and opened all the windows. Warm air entered, carrying distant traffic noise. The house felt less suffocating.
By evening, she had unpacked half her things. Books on the shelf. Clothes in the wardrobe. Laptop on the table.
It started to feel like hers.
At 10:45 PM, Meera lay in bed, scrolling through her phone. The building was unusually quiet. No TV sounds from neighbors. No footsteps in the corridor. Nothing.
She checked the time again.
10:58 PM.
She turned off the lights.
Sleep came slowly.
And then—
THUD.
Meera's eyes snapped open.
She stared into the darkness.
Her heart began to beat faster.
A dragging sound followed. Heavy. Slow. Like furniture being pulled across a floor.
She held her breath.
The sound was coming from above.
Someone upstairs was moving something at midnight?
She looked at the ceiling.
Another drag.
Scrrrrraaaaape.
Her throat went dry.
She checked the time on her phone.
3:02 AM.
She waited for a minute.
Then two.
Then the sound stopped.
Silence returned. Thick and heavy.
She told herself it was normal. Someone rearranging their house. Maybe night shift people. Maybe insomniacs.
But a strange thought crept into her mind.
While the broker was showing her the building in the afternoon, she had glanced at the floor directory near the lift.
She remembered reading:
7th Floor — Flats 701, 702, 703
She sat up in bed.
Her mind replayed the board clearly.
There were only three flats on this floor.
And she was in the last one.
Which meant—
There was no flat above 703.
No 803. No upper apartment.
Just the terrace.
A cold sensation spread across her skin.
She slowly lay back down, staring at the ceiling as if she could see through it.
"Maybe the sound came from the terrace," she whispered to herself.
But even as she said it, she knew—
That sound hadn't come from above the roof.
It had come from directly over her bedroom.
As if someone was dragging a table across a floor that did not exist.
She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
At 7:30 AM, she stepped out of her flat with dark circles under her eyes and went straight to the watchman's cabin.
The old watchman looked up from his newspaper.
"Madam, new tenant?"
"Yes… in 703."
His expression changed for a fraction of a second. So quickly that she almost missed it.
"Everything okay, madam?"
She hesitated.
Then laughed lightly. "Yes. Just… is there any flat above mine?"
He frowned. "Above? No, madam. Terrace only."
Meera forced a smile.
"Do people go to the terrace at night?"
The watchman shook his head. "Terrace gate is locked after 10 PM."
A chill ran through her.
She nodded and walked back toward the lift.
Behind her, the watchman kept staring at her a little longer than necessary.
As the lift doors closed, Meera felt a strange certainty settle inside her.
She had not imagined the sound.
And whatever had made it…
Was not supposed to be there.