Arjun hesitates for a moment, his breath visible in the cool air. He unlocks the door and steps inside, the weight of memory and absence thick around him. As he drops his keys onto the entryway table, the clink sounds impossibly loud. The house seems to hold its breath, every shadow lingering, every corner waiting.

Arjun’s eyes linger on the slippers. He feels the urge to pick them up, to place them somewhere safer, but he resists. Instead, he moves deeper into the house, each step echoing in the stillness. The ticking clock on the wall is the only other sound, steady and relentless.

He tries the switch, but the lights remain unmoved now. Arjun glances toward the kitchen, where everything is meticulously arranged, just as his mother left it. He whispers her name, but only silence answers.

Raj (voice note, distorted, amused) "Tumhe lagta hai sirf maa ki awaaz yaad thi tumhe?" Lights flicker again, more violently this time, casting jagged shadows that crawl across the ceiling and floor. Arjun’s heart pounds as he clutches the phone, struggling to place the voice.

He calls out, voice trembling, demanding to know who’s there. The house responds with only the hum of electricity, the flicker of light, and the heavy presence of things unsaid. Arjun feels as though the walls themselves are listening, holding secrets just out of reach.

Arjun closes his eyes, letting silence settle over him. He stands, leaving the slippers untouched—a quiet promise to return, to remember, to face what waits in the echoes of the house.