Saanvi was exhausted. All she wanted was a shower, food, and the kind of sleep that erased an entire day.

By 10 p.m., the office was empty. Amar had already left. Her house was only twenty minutes away, and the silence felt welcome.

The street, though, was too quiet. No traffic. No voices. Not even stray dogs. Just the dry crunch of leaves under her shoes.

Five minutes in, she noticed it — another set of footsteps.
Soft. Deliberate. Matching hers.

She stopped.
Silence.

She turned.
No one.

Saanvi walked faster.
The footsteps returned. In perfect sync.

A thin, high-pitched hum cut through her music. Not from her headphones. From behind.

She turned again.

A woman stood there. Too tall. Too thin. Long grey hair hung in strands over a hollow face. Her eyes were dark pits, fixed on Saanvi.

And she was smiling.

Not kindly. Not human.

Saanvi’s breath hitched. She quickened her pace.
So did the woman.

Then Saanvi ran.

She cut into a side street and ducked behind a dumpster, pressing a hand over her mouth.

The woman sprinted past — faster than she should have been able to — her footsteps no longer human, her head twitching, that thin hum rising into something like a song.

Then silence.

After a long minute, Saanvi slipped out and rushed home. Doors locked. Windows shut. Every corner checked twice.

Finally, safe.

Her shower was quick. Her body heavy. Sleep came instantly.

And then —
the humming.

High. Piercing. Right beside her ear.

Saanvi’s eyes snapped open.

She sat up slowly.

The bedroom door was open.

The woman stood there.

Closer now.

Still smiling…..