The highway was almost empty.
Streetlights flickered like they were struggling to stay alive.
The road stretched endlessly into darkness, swallowed by fog.
Arjun tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Slow down," Meera laughed softly, brushing her fingers against his arm. "You drive like the road belongs to you."
He smirked. "It does. Tonight is ours."
It was 2:41 AM.
Rain had just started — not heavy, just enough to blur the windshield and create that hypnotic rhythm of wipers moving back and forth.
Meera rolled down the window slightly. Cold air rushed in.
"I love nights like this," she whispered. "It feels like the world disappears… and it's just us."
Arjun looked at her for a second too long.
She was smiling.
Hair slightly messy.
Eyes shining in the dim dashboard light.
He had never imagined loving someone this much.
Three years together.
Thousands of late-night calls.
Endless fights.
Even more apologies.
But tonight felt different.
Like something was waiting.
The First Sign
At exactly 3:03 AM, the car radio turned on by itself.
Static.
Arjun frowned. "What the hell?"
He hadn't touched anything.
The music system crackled with distorted noise, then a faint whisper slipped through the static.
"…don't…"
Meera froze.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That voice."
Arjun turned the radio off.
"Probably interference."
She didn't look convinced.
For the next few minutes, silence filled the car.
Not comfortable silence.
Heavy silence.
The Argument That Shouldn't Have Happened
"You've been acting strange," Meera said suddenly.
Arjun's jaw tightened. "Strange how?"
"You don't tell me things anymore."
"Like what?"
"Like why you were at that hospital last week."
The word hospital hit him harder than it should have.
"It was nothing."
"You lied to me."
Rain started getting heavier.
"Meera, not tonight."
"When then? When something worse happens?"
Her voice cracked.
And that's when it happened.
The Accident
A truck appeared out of nowhere.
Headlights blinding.
Too close.
Too fast.
Arjun slammed the brakes.
The pedal felt… loose.
Unresponsive.
"What's happening?" Meera screamed.
The steering wheel vibrated violently.
The car skidded.
Tires screamed against wet asphalt.
Time slowed.
Arjun saw Meera's hand reaching for him.
Her mouth forming his name.
Then—
Metal crushed.
Glass shattered.
Darkness exploded.
Silence After Impact
When Arjun opened his eyes, everything smelled like iron.
Blood.
The world felt sideways.
He was hanging from the seatbelt.
His head throbbed.
Rain poured through the broken windshield.
"Meera?"
No response.
He turned slowly.
The passenger side was destroyed.
The door bent inward.
Metal twisted like paper.
Meera's body was still.
Too still.
Her head tilted unnaturally.
Blood ran from her forehead down her cheek.
Her eyes were open.
But they weren't looking at him.
"Meera," he whispered.
He tried to reach her.
His arm wouldn't move properly.
Pain shot through his ribs.
"Meera, please…"
Her lips were slightly parted.
As if she wanted to say something.
But nothing came.
Only rain.
And distant thunder.
Hospital
Three days later.
Arjun woke up in a hospital bed.
White ceiling.
Beeping machines.
Bandages around his chest.
A nurse noticed him move.
"You're lucky," she said softly.
"Where is she?"
The nurse hesitated.
"Who?"
"Meera."
Silence.
Then the doctor entered.
There's a tone doctors use when they're about to destroy someone's world.
"I'm sorry."
That's all it takes.
Two words.
And everything ends.
"She didn't survive the impact."
Funeral
It rained that day too.
Arjun stood motionless as her coffin was lowered.
People cried around him.
He didn't.
He couldn't.
He felt hollow.
Empty.
As if something inside him had already died that night.
But one thing kept replaying in his mind.
The brake pedal.
It didn't fail naturally.
It felt… cut.
Loose.
Tampered.
And then there was something else.
Something he hadn't told anyone.
When the car was spinning…
For one split second…
He saw someone in the backseat.
A shadow.
Watching.
Night Seven
Seven days after her death.
3:17 AM.
Arjun's phone vibrated.
He hadn't been sleeping properly.
Nightmares.
Crashing metal.
Her scream.
The phone screen lit up the dark room.
Unknown number.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Same number.
Heart pounding, he answered.
Silence.
Then breathing.
Soft.
Wet.
Broken.
"…Arjun…"
His blood turned cold.
That voice.
Impossible.
"Meera?"
A faint whisper.
"You left me there."
The call ended.
He stared at the screen.
Call duration: 13 seconds.
He tried calling back.
Number not reachable.
Hands shaking, he opened his gallery.
He needed to see her.
To ground himself.
To remind himself she was gone.
He opened their last photo together.
But the image was wrong.
It wasn't the selfie they took before leaving that night.
It was the car.
From outside.
Crushed.
Taken from a distance.
And in the backseat window…
A face.
Not Meera's.
Not his.
Something pale.
Smiling.
The Mirror
Arjun stumbled to the bathroom.
Turned on the light.
Water dripped from the tap.
He splashed cold water on his face.
"Not real," he muttered.
"Trauma."
"Guilt."
He looked up at the mirror.
For a second—
He was alone.
Then—
Her reflection appeared behind him.
Not normal.
Her skin grey.
Neck twisted slightly.
Blood still dripping.
Eyes black.
Not white.
Completely black.
He couldn't move.
She leaned close to his ear.
In the mirror only.
And whispered:
"You knew about the brakes."
His heart stopped.
Because she was right.
He did.
The mechanic had told him two days before the trip.
Brake line slightly damaged.
Needs replacement.
He ignored it.
Because he didn't want to cancel the trip.
Because they were fighting.
Because he was angry.
Because he wanted to prove something.
Tears streamed down his face.
"I didn't mean to—"
The bathroom light exploded.
Glass shattered.
Darkness swallowed him.
And in the darkness—
He felt cold fingers wrap around his throat.
When the lights flickered back on…
He was alone.
Mirror cracked.
And written across it in dripping red—
"THIS ISN'T OVER."