In a city wired to never sleep, Shivani noticed something strange — her team’s silent video calls that came to life exactly at midnight, only when the screen glitched to black. But no one else seemed to notice the whispering faces. And they kept calling her name.

Rhea thought working the late shift at the tech park would be peaceful. But when the abandoned workstation beside her starts auto-typing lines from her childhood journals, things unravel quickly. Each key press feels too intentional—and too intimate.

When Parul moved into her new city apartment, the elevator’s voice always greeted her cheerfully. But soon, it began changing — growing colder, more unfamiliar, as she ascended each floor. Something was wrong in the building — something watching behind walls, mimicking her reality with precision she couldn’t explain.

When Nidhi reopened her college group chat, she saw an unread message—sent yesterday—from someone who died last Diwali. Curiosity lures her to reply, but every message she sends begins rewriting her memories. How well do you remember your past… or is it remembering you?

When Rina moved into a sleek Gurgaon apartment, she dismissed the odd shifting furniture and altered floor plan as fatigue. But each time she blinked, the space redefined itself. Something—or someone—was rearranging more than just walls.

When Aaron found a hidden folder on his phone labeled ‘People Who Watch You’, he thought it was a virus. Then names started appearing—people he’d never met, but who knew everything about him. And the list kept updating in real time.

When Kabir installed a free productivity app to fight his burnout, he didn’t expect it to know his schedule better than he did. Or to override it. Or to begin whispering changes he never made. What do you do when your own to-do list starts thinking for you?

After missing the last elevator, Kavya finds another lift with no floor buttons. It opens on a level her building doesn’t acknowledge. There, beyond the peeling walls and humming silence, something waits for attention—something that remembers the dead.

At Arunima Girls’ Hostel, no one used the kitchen after midnight — not since a first-year claimed she heard cutlery whisper her name. When Maitreyi stayed late to cook instant noodles, she realized the whispers weren’t just air through vents… they were listening. And waiting.

When Meera rents a quiet third-floor apartment in a Kolkata complex, she enjoys the rare peace—until she starts hearing a scratching sound no one else reports. The noise always comes from within the walls, always precisely at 3:33 a.m. And it wants her to listen. Closely.