It began as a casual weekend trip—five college friends renting a secluded mansion in the outskirts of Shimla, far from the noise and network. Guna wasn’t thrilled. “What’s the point of wasting time in some ancient dump?” he muttered, adjusting his glasses. Ragini, always excited about the paranormal, grinned. “Because this place is famous for unresolved deaths and whispers at night, silly.”

Rajesh drove the SUV through the fog, his hand casually resting on Deepika’s thigh. She didn’t object—though her eyes flickered toward the rearview mirror, where Guna sat between Rohan and Ragini. The cold breeze brushed through the slightly open windows, and for a moment, Guna thought he saw a figure by the roadside—a woman in white. But when he looked again, there was nothing.

The mansion loomed before them by dusk—three stories of decaying wood, shattered glass, and ivy-covered stone. Rohan scoffed. “Looks like a rat’s nest. Ghosts must’ve left already.” Ragini touched the mossy wall with reverence. “Or maybe they’ve been waiting.”

That night, after dinner and a round of drinks, things started to shift.

Guna wandered upstairs, lured by a faint humming sound. It led him to a dusty room, bathed in moonlight. There was a cracked mirror, and as he stared at his reflection, he felt... watched. A sudden chill ran down his spine. Then—nothing.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Deepika and Rajesh had disappeared into a side room. The soft creak of the floorboards and muffled moans told Rohan and Ragini exactly what was happening.

Ragini smirked. “Sex and fear go hand in hand. Don’t you know most ghost stories start like this?”

Rohan raised a brow. “Do you want to start one?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. “What if the house wants us to do things… dark things?”

Suddenly, the power cut out. The lights snapped off, and a scream echoed from upstairs—Guna.