Anaya didn't sleep.
She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, watching faint shadows move like slow water. Every few seconds the hostel groaned, settling into itself, as though the building adjusted its bones.
When morning finally came, it didn't feel earned. It crept in thin and pale through the fogged window.
Anaya sat up sharply.
Kavya.
The memory of her scream still rang in her ears. The way her fingers had slipped from Anaya's grip. The way the floor had swallowed her like mud.
Anaya jumped from her bed and ran barefoot into the corridor.
"Kavya?"
No answer.
Her room door stood slightly open.
Inside, everything waited.
Kavya's backpack leaned against the chair. Her half-empty water bottle sat on the desk. Her bedsheet still carried the dip of a sleeping body.
Sana entered behind her.
"She might be in the washroom."
But Sana's voice didn't believe itself.
They checked every corner.
Nothing.
Riya whispered,
"She wouldn't leave without her phone."
Anaya picked it up from the table. It was cold. Powered off.
The silence felt heavier than screaming.
They hurried downstairs.
The warden sat at his desk drinking tea, calm, detached, untouched by the fear crawling inside Anaya's chest.
"Sir," Anaya said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Our friend Kavya Patel is missing."
He adjusted his glasses slowly.
"Room number?"
"Third floor. 317A."
He opened the register. Pages rustled. His finger moved down the columns.
Then stopped.
His brow creased.
"Kavya Patel?"
"Yes!"
"There is no such student here."
The words felt unreal.
"What do you mean no such student?" Sana snapped.
The warden turned the book toward them.
Kavya's name wasn't there.
Not crossed out.
Not erased.
Just… never written.
Anaya's knees weakened.
"That's impossible. She checked in with us."
The warden shrugged.
"You girls imagine too much."
Riya pulled out her phone.
"Look at the photos."
They gathered around her screen.
Group selfie from last week.
Four girls smiling.
But one space was empty.
Not blurred.
Not cut.
Just… missing.
Sana's lips trembled.
"It changed the past."
Anaya felt something cold settle inside her stomach.
The corridor wasn't just killing.
It was unwriting.
That night, fear returned heavier.
Anaya locked her door and sat on her bed, listening.
At exactly 12:17 a.m., the walls began to walk.
Soft dragging sounds crawled through the plaster.
Step.
Pause.
Step.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Then the whisper came.
Right under the door.
"Four… became… three…"
A long shadow slid across the floor, stretching upward like a man standing on the other side.
But there were no feet.
No body.
Only breathing.
Anaya pressed her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming.
The shadow leaned closer.
And smiled without a face.