I still remember the warmth of Avinash’s hand in mine the night we married under the flickering lamps of that old temple. Just weeks later, he was gone—stabbed in a dark alley while we walked home from the movies. The police called it a robbery gone wrong. I called it the end of everything.

But then Maya came.

She sat across from me in her dimly lit parlor, incense curling like ghosts around her fingers. 'Your husband speaks to me,' she said. 'He says you’re in danger. The man who killed him… he’s coming for you too.'

I laughed. I had to. Because believing her meant believing Avinash was still with me—watching, warning. And if that were true, then his death wasn’t random. It was planned.

Now, alone in the mansion he left me, I hear footsteps when no one’s there. The mirror fogs when I pass. Last night, I woke to the scent of his cologne.

And Vimal keeps asking when I’ll move out.

Do I confront him? Do I run? Or do I listen… and let the dead guide me?