ONLINE GHOST

Ananya stared at her phone screen. A new friend request had popped up on her social media.

"Aryan Sharma wants to add you."

Her fingers hesitated. The name was familiar. Too familiar.

Because Aryan Sharma had died six months ago.

Aryan had been her college senior. They weren’t close, but she remembered hearing about his suicide. He had jumped off his apartment building. No note. No explanation.

And now, his profile was active again.

Curious, she clicked on it.

His last post—dated two minutes ago—sent a chill down her spine.

"You ignored me when I was alive. Will you ignore me now?"

Her heart pounded. Was this a prank? A hacked account?

Before she could react, a message notification popped up.

Aryan Sharma: “Hi, Ananya.”

She locked her phone and threw it on the bed.

Something wasn’t right.

The next morning, she unlocked her phone.

10 new messages from Aryan Sharma.

"Why won’t you reply?"

"I know you’ve seen my message."

"Don’t ignore me, Ananya."

"Let’s talk, like we should have before."

A lump formed in her throat. She had never spoken to Aryan personally. Why was he acting like they had unfinished business?

She checked his friend list. A dozen other people had accepted his request, and some had even commented:

"Good to see you back, bro!"

"Thought you were gone… haha, welcome back!"

"Wait… this can’t be real, right?"

Ananya felt sick.

Was she the only one who found this disturbing?

Then, her screen glitched, and another message popped up.

Aryan Sharma: “You don’t remember, do you?”

Memories rushed back like a flood.

A late-night party. Loud music. Drinks.

A boy sitting alone, staring at his phone—Aryan.

She had seen him that night, hadn’t she? He had tried to talk to her.

But she had laughed, distracted, dismissing him with a polite nod before walking away.

And later that night, he had jumped.

Her stomach twisted.

"Is this why he’s haunting me?"

She clicked on his messages, ready to apologize. But before she could type, another message arrived.

"Meet me at my apartment. Tonight."

She knew she shouldn’t go. But something pulled her in—guilt, fear, or something worse.

By midnight, she stood outside Aryan’s abandoned apartment. The building was eerily silent.

His flat was still sealed by the police. But as she stepped closer, her phone buzzed.

Aryan Sharma: “Come inside.”

The door creaked open on its own.

Ananya swallowed hard and stepped in.

The air was thick with dust, the furniture untouched. A cold breeze brushed past her, though the windows were shut.

Then—her phone screen flickered.

A video started playing.

It was security footage from the night Aryan died.

And in the grainy video, she saw herself.

Ananya’s breath hitched.

The video showed Aryan standing on the edge of the balcony, hesitating.

Then—she walked in.

In the footage, Aryan turned to her, said something, and then…

She pushed him.

Her hands trembled. No. That never happened.

She had just ignored him. She hadn't—

Then she remembered.

His words that night: "Please, I need someone to listen."

She had been drunk, annoyed. She had grabbed his arm and said, "Just go. Leave me alone."

She hadn’t realized he was standing so close to the edge.

Tears filled her eyes.

"It was an accident."

The video stopped. Her phone vibrated.

Aryan Sharma: “Now, do you remember?”

The temperature in the room dropped. The shadows in the corner moved.

She turned—and he was there.

Aryan stood in the darkness, his face blank.

"You let me fall," he whispered.

"It was a mistake," she sobbed.

His eyes darkened.

"So is this."

Her phone buzzed one last time.

Aryan Sharma has added you to a group: "The Forgotten Ones."

Hundreds of ghostly profiles filled the chat—people who had been ignored, forgotten, dismissed.

And her name was now among them.

Her phone screen went black.

And so did everything else.

💀The End💀

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