Arman woke with a sudden jerk. His chest rose sharply as he sucked in air, like he had been underwater too long.
Darkness.
His bedroom ceiling stared back at him.
For a moment, he lay completely still, breathing slowly while his heartbeat settled.
Just a dream.
It had to be.
He rubbed his eyes, groaning softly as the memory of it returned.
Samantha.
Standing in his room.
Talking to him.
Looking at him with those calm, steady eyes.
He let out a tired breath.
"Too much whiskey," he muttered.
The digital clock on his bedside table glowed faintly.
6:12 a.m.
Morning light had just started creeping through the curtains.
Good.
Morning meant reality.
Morning meant the dream was over.
He stretched slightly, preparing to get out of bed—
Then he heard it.
A soft voice.
"You sleep a lot."
Arman froze.
Slowly… very slowly… he turned his head toward the window.
And his heart stopped.
She was there.
Exactly where she had been in the dream.
Standing beside the window, the pale morning light outlining her figure.
The same cream dress.
The same long dark hair.
Samantha Lessa.
Watching him.
Wide awake.
Arman blinked once.
Twice.
She didn't disappear.
His brain scrambled to catch up.
"You're… still here," he said slowly.
Samantha tilted her head slightly.
"Where else would I be?"
He sat up quickly.
"This isn't possible."
"That seems to be the theme here."
Arman ran both hands through his hair, trying to wake himself up properly.
"This is still a dream," he said firmly.
Samantha leaned casually against the wall beside the window.
"If it is, you've been dreaming for a very long time."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He grabbed the water bottle beside his bed and took a long drink.
Cold water.
Real.
He set the bottle down again.
She was still there.
Watching him with quiet curiosity.
"You didn't disappear," he said.
"Was I supposed to?"
"Yes!"
The word came out louder than he intended.
"You're dead!"
Samantha looked down at her hands thoughtfully.
"Yes," she said again.
She said it so calmly it made him uncomfortable.
"Most dead people don't stand in someone's bedroom having conversations."
"That's true."
Arman stared at her in disbelief.
"You're taking this way too well."
She looked up at him again.
"I think you're the one struggling."
He opened his mouth to argue.
Then stopped.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Arman swung his legs off the bed and stood up.
He walked toward her slowly, studying her like she was some strange puzzle.
The morning sunlight made her look different from last night.
Less eerie.
Almost… normal.
Except for the fact that she wasn't casting a shadow.
He noticed it immediately.
His stomach tightened.
"Okay," he said slowly.
"Let's say this is real."
Samantha watched him closely.
"You're telling me you died last night."
"Yes."
"And somehow… you ended up in my room."
"Yes."
"And you don't know why."
She shook her head slightly.
"I only remember getting into the car."
Her voice softened.
"And then everything went dark."
Arman leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms.
"Great," he muttered.
"A ghost with amnesia."
Samantha frowned slightly.
"Amnesia?"
"You don't remember how you died."
"That's not amnesia," she said calmly.
"That's trauma."
He blinked.
"Right. Sure."
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then Samantha spoke again.
"You're taking this better than I expected."
Arman let out a short laugh.
"I'm really not."
He ran a hand across his face again.
"I'm just trying not to lose my mind."
She studied him for a moment.
"You were the last person who saw me."
His eyes flickered toward her.
"At the traffic light."
"Yes."
The memory flashed vividly in his mind.
Her smile.
Her hair twirling around her finger.
That moment.
"You looked at me like you recognized me," he said slowly.
Samantha frowned slightly, thinking.
"I remember seeing you," she said.
"And then the car came."
"Uber," he said.
"Yes."
A strange tension settled in the room.
Arman looked at her again.
"Do you remember the driver?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Anything inside the car?"
Another pause.
Then...
"I remember feeling… uncomfortable."
His attention sharpened immediately.
"Uncomfortable how?"
She pressed her fingers lightly against her temple, concentrating.
"Like something wasn't right."
Her voice dropped slightly.
"But I didn't understand why."
Arman pushed himself off the dresser.
His mind was racing now.
"You know what this means, right?"
Samantha looked at him.
"What?"
He met her eyes.
"You didn't just appear in my room by accident."
Silence.
Then he said the one thought that had been slowly forming in his mind.
"You're here because you want something."
Samantha's expression shifted slightly.
"Want what?"
Arman's voice lowered.
"The truth."
The room went quiet again.
And suddenly.....
Their strange connection didn't feel random anymore.
It felt like the beginning of something.
Something dangerous.
Something neither of them fully understood yet.