Chapter 4: The Name He Doesn’t Want to Remember

Chapter 4: The Name He Doesn’t Want to Remember

Ayaan sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the old letter in his hands. The ink was faded, the paper yellowed with age, but the words were still readable—at least some of them.

"…I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. The whispers are getting louder. They say his name was—"

And then, a giant, ugly smudge. The name was gone.

Ayaan sighed. "Seriously? The one thing I actually need, and it’s missing?"

The ghost—his ghost—stood by the window, watching him carefully. "Where did you find that?"

"In the attic," Ayaan said, waving the letter. "I was looking for something useful, like an old treasure map or a will that says I own a secret mansion. But nope, I found you instead."

The ghost didn’t smile.

In fact, his usual amused expression was completely gone. He looked… tense.

Ayaan narrowed his eyes. "You don’t want me to read this, do you?"

The ghost hesitated. "It won’t help you."

"Won’t help me or won’t help you?" Ayaan challenged. "You said you don’t remember your past, right? What if this is a clue?"

A strange silence filled the room.

Then—

"I don’t know if I want to remember," the ghost admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ayaan frowned. That was… unexpected. He had assumed the ghost would be desperate to uncover his past. But now, looking at him, Ayaan realized something.

He’s afraid.

The ghost, who had no problem sneaking into his bed, moving objects with his mind, or creeping up on Ayaan just to see him jump—was afraid of his own memories.

Ayaan softened. "Look, I get it. Maybe you had a tragic past. Maybe you were a horrible person. Or maybe—just maybe—you were an innocent victim. But you won’t know unless we figure it out."

The ghost stared at him. Then, after a long pause, he walked closer, moving with that eerie, smooth grace that always sent a shiver down Ayaan’s spine.

He sat down beside Ayaan, looking at the letter.

Ayaan tried not to focus on how close he was. Or how good he smelled, which made no sense because ghosts weren’t supposed to smell like anything.

The ghost’s fingers lightly brushed against the paper. "This house is dangerous."

Ayaan sighed. "Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that. But you’re not telling me why."

The ghost hesitated again, then murmured, "Because something else is here."

Ayaan blinked. "…Excuse me, what?"

The House Is Not Empty

Ayaan had never felt more awake in his life.

"What do you mean something else is here?" he demanded. "I thought you were the only ghost!"

The ghost’s gaze flickered toward the dark hallway. "I don’t know what it is. But it’s been here longer than me. And it doesn’t like intruders."

Ayaan swallowed hard. "Okay. That’s… really not comforting."

The ghost’s lips twitched. "Good. It’s not supposed to be."

Ayaan groaned. "Great. So, I moved into a house that doesn’t just have one ghost, but multiple? And one of them wants me gone?"

The ghost didn’t answer.

Ayaan sighed. "Let me guess—you’re not going to tell me more, are you?"

The ghost tilted his head. "Not yet."

Ayaan gave him a deadpan look. "That’s just fancy ghost talk for ‘I like watching you suffer.’"

The ghost smirked.

Ayaan rolled his eyes. "Fantastic. I should charge rent for all this emotional trauma."

An Unwelcome Guest

That night, Ayaan couldn’t sleep.

Not because of the ghost—he was getting used to him hovering nearby. No, it was because of what the ghost had said.

"Something else is here."

That thought refused to leave his mind.

And then, at exactly 3:00 AM, something happened.

Ayaan heard footsteps.

Not the soft, nearly silent movements of his ghost, but heavy, dragging footsteps coming from the hallway outside his bedroom.

Ayaan’s heart slammed against his ribs.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it.

But then—

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It was slow. Deliberate. Getting closer.

Ayaan’s breath caught. He turned his head slightly and—

His bedroom door creaked open.

Cold air rushed in. The lights flickered.

And then, just beyond the doorway—he saw a shadow.

It wasn’t his ghost. It was taller, twisted, its shape all wrong, like something pretending to be human but failing miserably.

Ayaan’s throat went dry.

The shadow moved.

And then—

The ghost appeared beside Ayaan in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don’t move," he whispered.

Ayaan didn’t even breathe.

The shadow lingered for a moment.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come—

It vanished.

The room was silent again.

Ayaan exhaled shakily. "Okay. What the actual hell was that?!"

The ghost’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "I told you," he murmured.

"This house isn’t safe."

Ayaan closed his eyes. "…I really need to renegotiate my rent."

The ghost actually laughed. A soft, quiet chuckle.

And despite everything, despite the terrifying shadow that had just nearly given him a heart attack—Ayaan couldn’t help but notice how nice that laugh sounded.

—

End of Chapter 4

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