My name is Arjun Verma. I'm 25 years old. Since childhood, I was raised by my grandmother in a quiet village in Himachal Pradesh. Life was simple, just like any other boy in the village.
However, everything changed when my grandmother died and my uncle and aunt took the house from me.
I was devastated but I had to leave the house. With no one to take care of me, I went to the nearest city and started living on my own. I took up part-time jobs to survive. Thanks to my good grades, I got admission into a reputed school in the city—Vidya Niketan High School.
After three months in the city, I met a girl. Her name was Pooja Sharma. She had hip-length hair, stood about 160 cm tall, and had a slim figure. She wasn't the most popular girl in school, but to me, she was beautiful.
We dated for around nine months but never crossed the line, only few hand holdings and kisses on the cheeks. Things were good until we entered our second year. We got placed in different sections, and soon after, her behavior started to change.
This is where my story truly begins.
---
It was a Sunday. School was off, and Pooja's workplace was closed too. Yesterday was my payday, and I had planned to take her out to Cafe Coffee Day.
Though I didn't earn much from my part-time job, I managed my expenses strictly—often skipping proper meals—just so I could save a little to spend on Pooja.
I tried calling and messaging her multiple times that morning, but she didn't respond. I was hurt and confused.
"Where is Pooja? Why isn't she replying?" I muttered, feeling annoyed. It wasn't the first time she had been ignoring me.
By noon, I gave up waiting and decided to get something to eat. I left my hostel and headed toward a nearby shopping complex.
I walked into a small food stall and ordered,
"Uncle, one plate of fried rice and a cold drink, please."
While waiting for my food, a loud engine roar caught everyone's attention. A shiny AUDI zoomed past and parked nearby.
From the car stepped out someone familiar—it was Pooja.
She looked glamorous and was dressed more fashionably than usual. A tall, average-looking man stepped out from the driver's side. He seemed wealthy, stylish, and confident.
Pooja clung to his arm affectionately. Even a stranger could tell what kind of relationship they had.
My chest tightened. Anger, sadness, and betrayal burned inside me. I stood up and walked towards them.
"Pooja!" I called out.
Startled, she turned around. "Arjun? What are you doing here?" she asked arrogently, sticking more closer to the man's arm.
"I should be the one asking that. Who is he? And why are you with him?"
She stammered, "He... He is…"
The man beside her asked, "Who's this guy?"
Pooja hesitated for a second then replied. "He's my ex-boyfriend."
That was the breaking point.
The man smirked. "Oh, so this is the poor guy you always talked about?"
His tone was mocking. I clenched my fist, ready to hit him. But instead, I looked at Pooja. She flinched, expecting me to lash out.
But I didn't lash out,only had a hurt expression on my face,with that face i looked at her.
"Why, Pooja? Why did you do this to me? What does he have that I don't?"
She looked me in the eyes and said coldly, "I'm tired of struggling. You can't afford expensive clothes, jewelry, or even a decent phone. But he can give me everything I want."
I was shocked. "But I loved you," I roared!
"Can love buy things? Can love pay bills?" she replied sharply.
Her words pierced my heart like a knife. I had worked hard just to give her the little that I could, and this was how it ended.
"Fine," I said, holding back tears. "Maybe I was blind to love someone like you. From today, we're done. Don't ever try to contact me again."
Without waiting for her response, I turned around and walked away.
---
As I walked, my stomach growled. I realized I hadn't eaten all day.
I bought a plate of momos and a bottle of water from a roadside vendor. Metro was scheduled to leave in ten minutes. Before boarding, I texted my class teacher asking for a few days off.
About 12 minutes later, the Haryana Express left the station.The journey to my stop would take around 30-40 minutes.
The metro was crowded at first but slowly emptied out as it passed through various stations. Eventually, only I and two other passengers remained, sitting in silence as the train hummed through the tunnels.
When I got off at the last station, the platform was eerily quiet. The fluorescent lights above flickered now and then, casting long shadows. I walked towards the bus stop outside, my footsteps echoing on the empty pavement.
Soon, I boarded a lone bus heading toward my home. The roads were mostly deserted at this hour, with only the occasional headlight piercing through the darkness. I leaned back, tired, watching the night crawl by through the window.
Just a few minutes from my stop, the bus suddenly swerved to the side with a jolt and came to a stop. The driver looked concerned as he stepped out with a flashlight.
"What happened, uncle?" I asked, stepping closer.
"The tire's flat," he said after a quick inspection. "I'm afraid we can't continue tonight.
"It's okay, uncle.I'll walk from here," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag and stepping out the bus.
The night had grown deeper and colder. The road ahead was dimly lit, swallowed by darkness on both sides. Crickets chirped in the bushes, and a chilly breeze rustled the leaves. I tightened my jacket and began to walk, trying to stay close to the faint glow of the distant streetlights.
Suddenly, the wind stilled. The silence grew heavy, unnatural.
Then I saw it—up in the sky.
A figure floated just above the trees. An old man, glowing faintly, dressed in flowing white robes that shimmered like mist under moonlight. His hair was long and silver, his eyes closed, as though he were in a trance.
I stopped in my tracks, heart pounding.
Was I seeing things?
I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. But he was still there—slowly drifting downward, coming closer.
Panic surged through me. My legs moved on their own.
"Ghost!" I shouted, and took off running, my breath loud in the silence of the night.