Two Days Before the Wedding

The hotel was quiet that evening—too quiet.

Shiya, Sakshi, and a few close friends had come to celebrate Shiya’s last night of bachelorhood. They laughed, ordered food, clicked pictures, and filled the room with joy. But something felt… off. The staff was minimal, the crowd sparse, and the air carried a strange stillness.

They didn’t order drinks. Not a single one.

Yet, within an hour, their heads began to ache. Their laughter faded. One by one, they slumped into their chairs, eyes heavy, limbs weak.

Then—blackout.

An hour later, Shivansh’s phone rang.

It was Shiya’s number.

He answered immediately. “Hello?”

A girl’s voice—soft, urgent, unfamiliar—spoke quickly. “Your sister Shiya and her friends are at the hotel. They’ve drunk too much. Please come.”

Shivansh’s heart raced. “Who is this?”

But the call cut.

No name. No answer. Just silence.

He tried calling back. No response.

Without wasting a second, he called his friends. “Meet me at the hotel. Something’s wrong.”

When they arrived, the scene was eerie. Every girl was unconscious, slumped in chairs like they’d been drinking for hours. But Shivansh knew—none of them drink. Not Shiya. Not Sakshi. Not any of their friends.

He carried Sakshi first, gently placing her in his car. Then Shiya. His friends followed, lifting the others with care.

“Where do we take them?” someone asked.

Shivansh thought quickly. “My house. No one’s there. My parents are staying at Shiya’s place for the wedding.”

They drove in silence.

At home, they placed the girls in two rooms—Shivansh’s and Sakshi’s. Blankets were tucked, water kept nearby. Shivansh called Shiya’s parents and calmly said, “They were tired. Everyone’s resting here. Please inform the other parents.”

In the hall, Shivansh sat quietly, his brows furrowed.

One of his friends asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shivansh looked up, voice low. “When I got to the hotel… there were no female staff. Not one. And none of the girls were awake. So who called me?”

The room fell silent.

He continued, “The voice on the phone… it was a girl. But I’ve never heard it before. She didn’t say her name. She didn’t wait for questions. She just vanished.”

He stared at Shiya’s phone, now resting on the table.

Who was she? he thought. And how did she know to call me?

His instincts stirred. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t just a celebration gone wrong. It felt planned. Precise. Hidden.

And somewhere in that night, as the girls slept and the house held its breath, Shivansh began to wonder—

Was someone watching?

The Morning After

The house was quiet. Shiya, Sakshi, and their friends were still asleep, recovering from whatever had happened the night before. Shivansh hadn’t slept. He sat in the living room, staring at Shiya’s phone, replaying the call in his mind.

A girl’s voice. Soft. Urgent. Unfamiliar.

She hadn’t said her name. She hadn’t waited for questions. She just vanished.

And Shivansh couldn’t shake the feeling—something wasn’t right.

By noon, he was at the hotel.

The manager greeted him politely, but Shivansh’s tone was firm. “I need to see last night’s surveillance footage. My sister and her friends were here. Something happened.”

The manager hesitated. “Sir, we had a technical issue yesterday. The cameras… they weren’t recording.”

Shivansh’s eyes narrowed. “None of them?”

The manager nodded. “We’ve been having trouble with the system. It’s being repaired.”

Shivansh walked to the security room himself. The monitors were on—but the recordings from the previous night were blank. No timestamps. No footage. Just static.

He turned to the manager. “Was there any female staff on duty?”

The man shook his head. “Only two male waiters. We were short-staffed.”

Shivansh’s mind raced.

No female staff. No crowd. No drinks ordered. Yet every girl had blacked out. And someone—a girl—had called him from Shiya’s phone.

He stepped outside, the sun sharp against his thoughts.

Who was she? Why did she call? And how did she know to call me?

He opened Shiya’s phone again. No outgoing call to his number. No record of the call at all.

It hadn’t come from her phone.

It had come through it.

His chest tightened.

This wasn’t just a strange night.

It was a warning.

And somewhere, someone was watching.

Later That Evening

The house was quiet again. Shiya and her friends had been taken home, still groggy, still unaware of how the night had unraveled. Shivansh stood in the hallway, watching the door close behind the last guest.

Sakshi lingered, sensing his unease.

He turned to her, voice low but firm. “Sakshi… I need to ask you something.”

She nodded, her expression tense.

“Last night,” he said, “at the hotel—did any of you order drinks?”

Sakshi shook her head immediately. “No. Just food. We were celebrating, but no one ordered alcohol. You know us.”

Shivansh’s jaw tightened. “And the staff? Did you see any female employees?”

Sakshi paused, thinking. “No. That’s what felt strange. Only two male waiters. No hostesses, no cleaning staff. It was quiet. Too quiet.”

He stepped closer. “Before you blacked out… do you remember the time?”

She nodded slowly. “I checked my phone. It was 10 PM. I remember because I was texting someone about the playlist.”

Shivansh froze.

“The call I got,” he said, “came at 11.”

Sakshi’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible. We were already unconscious.”

He nodded. “Exactly. And there’s no record of the call on Shiya’s phone. No outgoing call. No missed call. Nothing.”

Sakshi’s voice dropped. “Then who called you?”

Shivansh stared at the phone on the table. “A girl. I didn’t recognize her voice. She didn’t say her name. She just said Shiya and her friends were drunk and needed help. Then she hung up.”

He looked at Sakshi, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if none of you were awake… and no female staff was there… who was she?”

Sakshi said nothing.

Because there was nothing to say.

And in that silence, Shivansh felt it again—that quiet, crawling certainty.

Someone was watching