Isha lived in a high-rise apartment in Mumbai’s bustling Bandra district. She worked long hours at a tech startup and often found herself alone, her nights lit only by the glow of her laptop screen. One evening, while finishing up a report, her phone buzzed with a notification from an app she didn’t recognize.
It was called Karmic Chat, and she hadn’t installed it. Assuming it was spam, she almost ignored it. But curiosity won out. She opened the app and saw a single message waiting for her from a user named K.S.
"Remember to close the balcony door tonight."
Her fingers froze over the screen. Who was this “K.S.”? And why would they say something so strange?
Uneasy, she double-checked the balcony door and found it already closed. She locked it for good measure, then dismissed the incident as a prank. But the next night, at the same time, the app notified her again. This time the message was even stranger.
"Don’t trust the man in blue."
Isha felt a chill run down her spine. She wanted to delete the app, but part of her was too curious. Who was behind these warnings? Her mind raced with theories: maybe it was a friend pulling a prank, or some hacker toying with her.
The next morning, as she left for work, she couldn’t shake off the message. She kept glancing at people on the street, looking for someone in blue. She was almost at her office when she saw a man in a blue jacket. He looked ordinary—mid-thirties, casually dressed, nothing remarkable. But as he walked past, he gave her an intense, knowing look. Isha’s pulse quickened. Was this who the message was talking about?
She reached her office and tried to forget about it, but that night, the app sent another message:
"You left the light on in the study."
This time, fear surged through her. How did they know? She’d indeed left the light on in her study. She double-checked every door and window, then finally deleted the app, determined to put this eerie experience behind her.
But the messages didn’t stop.
The next night, another notification appeared from an unknown number:
"You can’t ignore this, Isha. 10 p.m. tonight—go to the rooftop. There’s something you need to know."
She thought about calling the police, but what would she tell them? That some app had given her cryptic messages? Deciding to confront whoever was behind this, she gathered her courage and headed up to the rooftop at 10 p.m., hoping to put an end to the mystery.
The Mumbai skyline glittered around her as she reached the rooftop. She was alone—no mysterious figure waiting, no answer to her questions. She sighed in frustration. It had to be a prank. But just as she turned to leave, her phone buzzed with one final message.
"Isha, whatever you do, don’t turn around."
Her heart stopped. Every instinct told her to turn around, but something about the message filled her with dread. She stood frozen, her breaths shallow. Seconds passed, and she could hear only her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Then, slowly, she took a step forward, then another, her back still to the door. She didn’t look back until she was safely inside her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Her hands were shaking as she checked her phone.
The app had disappeared. No trace of Karmic Chat, no strange messages—nothing. Confused and shaken, she tried to sleep, but the memory haunted her dreams.
The next day, a breaking news alert appeared on her phone: "Unidentified body found on rooftop of Bandra high-rise. Possible homicide under investigation."
Isha’s building.
And in the attached image, she recognized the man: the man in the blue jacket who had stared at her just days before.
As she read the article, her phone buzzed with one final, chilling message from an unknown number:
"You’re safe now, Isha. But some secrets stay hidden."
The screen went blank, leaving her with the same question that would haunt her for years to come: who was K.S., and what did they save her from that night?
The End… Or Is It?