Chapter 9: The Forgotten Key
Then I realized—arre, I hadn’t given her the new key! Distracted by all the drama, I’d forgotten. What kind of locksmith forgets the key? Dadaji would’ve laughed.
I hurried back and knocked. No answer. She couldn’t have gone far. Maybe she was too scared to respond, peering at me through the peephole.
I knocked again, explained about the key. Still nothing. The corridor felt colder, silence pressing in thickly.
I pulled out my phone and dialed her number from my call log. As soon as the call connected, I heard her phone ringing—but the sound wasn’t coming from inside the flat.
It was coming from behind me.
A sudden wave of fear. My fingers went icy. I turned, every muscle tense.
The ringtone echoed from the stairwell entrance.