haunted.

spirits

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Rohit returned home, tired but happy to see Virat. They embraced warmly at the door.

"How was your day, love?" Rohit asked, kissing Virat's forehead.

"It was really nice," Virat replied, smiling. "I went to meet our neighbors, Pippa and Ravi. They're really friendly and we had a great time chatting. How about you?"

"Work was busy, as always," Rohit said with a sigh, "but I'm glad to be home now. Tell me more about Pippa and Ravi."

They settled into the living room, sharing stories from their day. Virat recounted his visit with Pippa and Ravi, and they laughed about some of the funny anecdotes he had heard. Rohit listened intently, glad that Virat had made new friends.

"I'm so glad you had a good day," Rohit said, squeezing Virat's hand. "We should invite them over for dinner sometime."

"Definitely," Virat agreed. "They'd love that."

As the evening drew to a close, they headed upstairs to their bedroom. Exhausted from their respective days, they slipped into bed, cuddling close and whispering sweet nothings until they both drifted off to sleep.

Around midnight, Virat's sleep was disturbed by a loud crash from downstairs. He sat up, heart racing, and glanced over at Rohit, who was still sound asleep. Not wanting to wake him, Virat decided to investigate on his own. He quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs.

When he reached the kitchen, he saw that the dishes had been knocked off the counter and lay shattered on the floor. He frowned, wondering if it was just the wind that had caused the mishap. As he began to pick up the pieces, an eerie feeling settled over him.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, their antique CD player, which they hadn't used in ages, sprang to life. It played a chilling song with the lyrics, "you're gonna die, i am going to kill you," repeating over and over. Virat's blood ran cold, but he steeled himself and quickly turned off the CD player.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, he saw something that made his blood freeze. Standing by the doorway was a man in 1800s military attire, his expression twisted and malevolent. The figure stared at Virat with an intensity that made him take a step back.

"Who are you?" Virat whispered, his voice trembling.

The figure took a step closer, and Virat's fear reached a fever pitch. He screamed, "Rohit! Help!"

Within moments, Rohit came rushing down the stairs, his face etched with concern. "Virat, what's wrong?"

But when Rohit entered the kitchen, the figure was gone. The room was silent and empty, save for the broken dishes and the faint echo of Virat's terrified breathing.

"Virat, what happened?" Rohit asked, wrapping his arms around him.

Virat clung to Rohit, trembling. "There was a man... in old military clothes. He was right there, looking at me. And the CD player... it started playing this horrible song."

Rohit looked around, his brow furrowed. "There's no one here now. Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"

"It felt so real," Virat insisted, his voice shaking. "I know what I saw."

Rohit hugged Virat tighter. "It's okay, love. We'll figure this out. Let's go back to bed. You're safe with me."

Still shaken, Virat allowed Rohit to lead him back upstairs. They settled into bed once more, but the sense of dread lingered. As Virat lay in Rohit's protective embrace, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with their new home.