The night had grown unnervingly still. The distant chirping of crickets had faded, leaving only the low hum of Aarav's engine and the rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat. The headlights carved a narrow tunnel of light on the abandoned highway, yet everything beyond that glow remained hidden in suffocating darkness.
Aarav's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He could still feel the echo of the voice he had heard earlier—soft, mournful, yet sharp enough to slice through his sanity.
"Turn back… before it's too late."
He swallowed hard, trying to convince himself it was his imagination. But as he glanced at the rearview mirror, his chest froze.
A pale figure sat in the back seat.
Her face was half-shrouded by tangled black hair, skin unnaturally white, like the reflection of moonlight on still water. She wore a tattered bridal dress, the lace yellowed with age, stained with something darker.
Aarav slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched, smoke curling as the car jerked to a halt. His breath hitched, his pulse pounding so hard he thought his veins would burst. He whipped his head around—
The back seat was empty.
Only the faint smell of jasmine flowers lingered in the air, sweet yet suffocating.
Aarav rubbed his eyes with trembling hands.
"No… no, it's just in my head. Just stress. Just the stories," he muttered, forcing his breathing to slow. But when he looked back at the mirror, his stomach dropped.
The bride was there again.
This time, she was smiling.
Her lips stretched too wide, too wrong, teeth glistening like broken shards. Her eyes—dark voids with pinpricks of white—locked onto his. The air inside the car grew heavy, pressing against his chest like invisible hands.
Aarav's body screamed at him to get out, but he couldn't move. His fingers were locked on the wheel, his foot glued to the brake.
The bride leaned forward in the mirror, her cold breath fogging the glass.
"You can't leave me… Aarav."
The sound of his name on her lips was like ice piercing his bones. He hadn't told anyone he was taking this road. How could she know?
He finally wrenched his body free and shoved the door open, stumbling out into the night. The highway stretched endlessly in both directions, empty, silent. The wind was absent, the trees eerily still, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
The car's headlights flickered. Once. Twice. Then went out completely.
Aarav's world was swallowed in darkness.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, fumbling with shaking hands to turn on the flashlight. The weak beam cut through the dark just enough to show the cracked asphalt beneath his feet. He pressed the lock button to make his car honk, to hear some sound, any sign of life.
Instead, the sound that came was a woman's laugh.
Soft. Broken. Echoing all around him.
Aarav's chest heaved. "Who's there?!" he shouted, spinning wildly with the phone light. His voice cracked, swallowed by the silence that followed.
Then he saw it.
On the far edge of the flashlight's beam, standing in the middle of the road, was the bride. Her veil fluttered though there was no wind. Her gown dragged along the cracked pavement, leaving behind a dark, wet trail.
Aarav staggered back toward the car, his mind screaming to run, but his legs refused. His gaze was locked on her.
She tilted her head slowly, almost curious, then raised her arm. In her hand was a rusted chain, and dangling from it was something that made Aarav's blood freeze.
A man's wedding ring.
It swung slowly back and forth, catching the pale light of his phone.
Aarav's breath came in sharp bursts. He wanted to scream, but his throat had closed.
The bride whispered, her voice stretching unnaturally, reaching him across the empty highway:
"You'll never leave this road, Aarav… not until you take my place."
The phone flickered and died, plunging him into complete blackness.
Aarav's heart thundered in his ears. His fingers clawed at the car door, desperate to get inside, to shut her out. He pulled with all his strength—
And felt another hand close over his.
Cold. Clammy. Strong.
He yanked his arm back in horror, stumbling onto the pavement. The chain rattled in the darkness, the metallic clink echoing far too close.
Aarav scrambled into the car, slammed the door shut, and jammed the lock down. His breaths came ragged, sweat dripping from his brow. He turned the key in the ignition—
The engine coughed. Once. Twice. Then roared back to life. The headlights flickered on, stabbing into the night.
The bride was gone.
The road ahead was empty.
Aarav didn't think—he slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward, tires screeching against the asphalt. He sped down the endless stretch of highway, his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to look at the mirror.
But even over the roar of the engine, he could hear it.
The faint clinking of a chain.
Coming from the back seat.