13-02-2026, 11:21 PM
The car tires crunched over dry gravel, breaking a silence that felt centuries old. They had left the chaotic noise of Kolkata far behind. Here, on the outskirts, the air was heavy, still, and strangely devoid of birdsong.
Sumit killed the engine. "We're here," he whispered, almost reverently.
Before them stood 'The structure'. It wasn't a ruin, as one might expect for the price. It was magnificent—a deep, ochre-red colonial mansion hidden behind a thicket of unkempt bougainvillea. But there was something about the architecture... the windows were too narrow, too tall, looking down like hooded eyes.
Sohini stepped out of the car. Her feet sank slightly into the soft, damp earth.
She didn't feel excitement. She felt a sudden, heavy pressure in her chest, as if the air pressure had dropped instantly.
She adjusted her saree, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her back. It wasn't just the heat. It was a physical reaction to the place.
"It’s... very quiet, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice sounding too loud in the open air.
The broker, Mr. Roy, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He didn't look at the house; he looked at his watch. "Peaceful, Madam. Absolute peace. The owner lives abroad, you see. He just wants it gone."
Sohini looked up at the second-floor balcony. The iron railing was rusted in intricate patterns. For a fleeting second, the shadows played a trick on her eyes. The darkness behind the balcony door seemed to shift, as if someone had just stepped back into the room to hide.
She rubbed her arms. The fine hairs on her skin stood up. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was the feeling you get when you walk into a room and realize everyone was just talking about you.
"Come," Sumit waved, already at the porch. "Let's go inside."
Sohini took a step forward. Her heart hammered a warning: Don't go in. But she forced a smile and followed. As she crossed the shadow of the main gate, the sunlight vanished, and a coldness wrapped around her ankles like invisible vines.
The house hadn't just been empty. It had been waiting.
Sumit killed the engine. "We're here," he whispered, almost reverently.
Before them stood 'The structure'. It wasn't a ruin, as one might expect for the price. It was magnificent—a deep, ochre-red colonial mansion hidden behind a thicket of unkempt bougainvillea. But there was something about the architecture... the windows were too narrow, too tall, looking down like hooded eyes.
Sohini stepped out of the car. Her feet sank slightly into the soft, damp earth.
She didn't feel excitement. She felt a sudden, heavy pressure in her chest, as if the air pressure had dropped instantly.
She adjusted her saree, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her back. It wasn't just the heat. It was a physical reaction to the place.
"It’s... very quiet, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice sounding too loud in the open air.
The broker, Mr. Roy, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He didn't look at the house; he looked at his watch. "Peaceful, Madam. Absolute peace. The owner lives abroad, you see. He just wants it gone."
Sohini looked up at the second-floor balcony. The iron railing was rusted in intricate patterns. For a fleeting second, the shadows played a trick on her eyes. The darkness behind the balcony door seemed to shift, as if someone had just stepped back into the room to hide.
She rubbed her arms. The fine hairs on her skin stood up. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was the feeling you get when you walk into a room and realize everyone was just talking about you.
"Come," Sumit waved, already at the porch. "Let's go inside."
Sohini took a step forward. Her heart hammered a warning: Don't go in. But she forced a smile and followed. As she crossed the shadow of the main gate, the sunlight vanished, and a coldness wrapped around her ankles like invisible vines.
The house hadn't just been empty. It had been waiting.
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