Part 1 — The First Call
The first call came three days after Sara was buried.
Ahsan stared at the screen for so long that the phone stopped vibrating before he could move.
Sara Calling.
Her name remained there for a few seconds, glowing softly against the darkness of his apartment.
Then it disappeared.
Ahsan sat frozen on the edge of his bed, unable to breathe properly. Outside, rain tapped lightly against the windows, and somewhere in the building pipes groaned like distant voices.
His heart pounded painfully.
No.
Impossible.
He grabbed the phone with trembling fingers and checked the number again.
It was hers.
The same number he had memorized years ago. The same number that had once sent him midnight voice notes, angry paragraphs after arguments, random pictures of coffee cups, sunsets, and badly drawn smiley faces.
The same number he himself had switched off at the hospital after doctors covered her face with a white sheet.
Ahsan swallowed hard and looked toward the kitchen.
Silence.
The apartment suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
He told himself there had to be an explanation. Maybe someone from her family had recovered the SIM card. Maybe her younger brother was using the phone.
Yes. That had to be it.
But something still felt wrong.
Why would they call him at 2:13 in the morning?
And why only once?
He tried calling back.
The line rang exactly one time before disconnecting.
Ahsan stared at the screen again.
Then a message appeared.
Missed Call — 2:13 AM
Under it, her old photo smiled back at him. Sara sitting beside a roadside tea stall, hair blowing across her face, laughing at something outside the frame.
For a moment, grief hit him so hard he nearly dropped the phone.
Three days.
Only three days since the funeral.
Three days since he stood beside her grave while strangers recited prayers into the cold afternoon air.
Three days since he watched her mother collapse into tears.
Three days since he himself had cried for the first time in years.
He placed the phone face down and pressed his palms against his eyes.
Sleep was impossible after that.
The rest of the night passed slowly, each minute stretching painfully into the next. Every sound made him look toward the phone again.
At 3:41 AM, the refrigerator clicked loudly.
At 4:12 AM, footsteps echoed somewhere in the hallway outside.
At 4:47 AM, his phone buzzed again.
Ahsan nearly fell off the bed grabbing it.
But this time it was only a food delivery notification.
He laughed weakly at himself.
By morning, exhaustion had settled deep into his bones.
The city outside moved normally. Cars honked below his apartment. Vendors shouted. Neighbors argued over parking spaces. Somewhere nearby, construction workers hammered endlessly into concrete.
The world had continued moving without Sara.
Ahsan hated it for that.
He skipped work and spent most of the day sitting beside the window with untouched tea growing cold beside him.
Around noon, his friend Hamza arrived unexpectedly.
“You look terrible,” Hamza said the moment he walked in.
“Thanks.”
“I mean worse than usual.”
Ahsan managed a tired smile.
Hamza placed grocery bags on the counter and looked around the apartment carefully. Curtains closed. Dishes piled in the sink. Medicine strips scattered across the table.
“You haven’t slept.”
“I’m fine.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
Ahsan remained silent.
Hamza sighed and sat opposite him.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then Ahsan quietly said, “I got a call from Sara’s phone last night.”
Hamza frowned immediately.
“What?”
“Her number called me.”
Hamza’s expression changed from confusion to concern.
“Who has her phone now?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you’re sure it was her number?”
Ahsan unlocked the screen and showed him.
Hamza stared at the missed call notification.
Neither spoke for a few seconds.
“That’s… weird,” he admitted.
“I called back. Nobody answered.”
“Probably her family.”
“At two in the morning?”
Hamza opened his mouth but had no response.
Instead, he handed the phone back carefully.
“You should ask them.”
Ahsan nodded slowly.
But deep down, he didn’t want to ask.
Because asking meant there could be a real answer.
And somehow that terrified him more.
That evening, unable to bear the apartment any longer, Ahsan walked aimlessly through the city streets.
Rainwater still covered parts of the road from the previous night. Cars sprayed dirty puddles across sidewalks. Neon shop signs reflected across wet asphalt.
Everything reminded him of Sara.
The bookstore where she forced him to buy novels he never finished.
The café where she once threw tissue paper at him during an argument.
The traffic signal where she laughed uncontrollably after a street cat climbed onto a policeman’s motorcycle.
Grief lived everywhere now.
It followed him like another shadow.
By the time he returned home, the sky had darkened again.
He unlocked the apartment and froze instantly.
The television was on.
Static hissed softly across the screen.
Ahsan stared at it, confused.
He clearly remembered turning it off before leaving.
Slowly, he stepped inside.
The apartment felt colder than before.
He picked up the remote and muted the sound.
That’s when he noticed something else.
His bedroom door was slightly open.
He was certain he had left it closed.
Ahsan’s throat tightened.
“Hello?”
No answer.
He moved carefully toward the room.
The hallway suddenly felt too long.
Too quiet.
His pulse hammered louder with every step.
Then—
The phone started ringing again.
Inside the bedroom.
Ahsan stopped breathing.
From the crack in the door, he could see the faint glow of the screen lighting the darkness.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
His hands trembled violently now.
Slowly, he pushed the door open.
The phone rested on the bed exactly where he had left it.
The screen glowed brightly.
Sara Calling.
But this time—
he answered.
The Phone Started Ringing After Her Funeral
Part 2 — The Voice on the Line
Ahsan pressed the phone against his ear with shaking hands.
For a moment, all he could hear was static.
A soft crackling sound.
Like heavy rain hitting an old radio tower.
Then silence.
His throat tightened.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“A-Aslamu alaikum…?” he whispered weakly.
Still nothing.
But the call had not disconnected.
Ahsan checked the screen.
The timer was moving.
00:17.
00:18.
00:19.
Someone was there.
He could hear breathing now.
Very faint.
Slow.
Uneven.
Every hair on his arms stood upright.
“Sara?”
The breathing stopped instantly.
Ahsan’s chest tightened painfully.
Then—
a whisper.
So quiet he almost missed it.
“Ahsan…”
His entire body went cold.
The voice was weak.
Distant.
But it was hers.
Exactly hers.
Not similar.
Not close.
Her voice.
Ahsan stumbled backward until his legs hit the bed.
“No…”
The line crackled again.
“Ahsan… listen to me…”
Tears filled his eyes immediately.
His mind screamed that this was impossible, but grief drowned logic too easily.
“Sara?” he whispered again, almost pleading now. “How… how is this possible?”
The connection distorted for a second.
Then her voice returned.
“Don’t let them find me.”
The call ended.
Dead silence swallowed the room.
Ahsan stared at the screen in horror.
Call Duration — 00:43
His breathing became shallow.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The walls closer.
He tried calling back immediately.
The automated voice responded:
“The number you are trying to reach is currently switched off.”
Ahsan lowered the phone slowly.
His hands were numb.
This wasn’t possible.
People didn’t come back.
Dead people didn’t whisper through phone calls.
Dead people didn’t ask for help.
He spent the next hour replaying the conversation in his head again and again.
Maybe someone was pranking him.
Maybe grief was affecting his mind.
Maybe he wanted to hear Sara’s voice so badly that his brain created it.
But no hallucination could explain the call log.
Or the words she said.
Don’t let them find me.
Who were “they”?
Around midnight, Hamza called.
“You okay?”
Ahsan hesitated.
“No.”
“What happened?”
There was a long silence before Ahsan finally spoke.
“I answered this time.”
Hamza stopped talking immediately.
“…What?”
“She spoke to me.”
Another silence.
Longer this time.
“Ahsan,” Hamza said carefully, “you haven’t slept properly in days.”
“I know what I heard.”
“You’re grieving.”
“She told me not to let them find her.”
Hamza exhaled sharply.
“Listen to yourself.”
“It was her voice.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I KNOW THAT!”
The sudden shout echoed through the apartment.
Ahsan pressed a trembling hand against his forehead.
“I know,” he whispered again, weaker this time.
Hamza’s voice softened.
“Come stay at my place tonight.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Ahsan looked toward the dark hallway outside his bedroom.
The apartment felt wrong now.
Every shadow seemed alive.
Every small sound felt deliberate.
Still, he refused.
“I just need sleep.”
Hamza clearly didn’t believe him.
“Call me if anything happens.”
After the call ended, Ahsan locked every door and turned on every light in the apartment.
The television remained muted in the living room.
Rain had started again outside.
Heavy this time.
Wind rattled the windows softly.
At 1:26 AM, the electricity went out.
Darkness swallowed everything instantly.
Ahsan cursed under his breath.
The entire apartment complex outside disappeared into blackness too.
Only distant lightning briefly illuminated the room every few seconds.
He searched for his flashlight using his phone screen.
That’s when he noticed something strange.
There were wet footprints on the floor.
Ahsan froze.
Near the apartment entrance.
Small puddles of water led from the front door toward the hallway.
His pulse spiked instantly.
No.
No, no, no.
He slowly moved closer.
The footprints were clear.
Bare feet.
As if someone had entered the apartment during the rain.
Ahsan stared at them in disbelief.
One footprint.
Then another.
Then another.
Leading directly toward his bedroom.
Lightning flashed outside.
For a split second, the hallway lit up white.
And Ahsan realized something horrifying.
The footprints were not entering the bedroom.
They were coming out of it.
The flashlight slipped from his hand.
A loud crash echoed through the darkness.
At that exact moment—
his phone vibrated again.
Ahsan nearly screamed.
The screen lit up his face in pale blue light.
1 New Voice Message
Sender: Sara.
His breathing became ragged.
Slowly, he pressed play.
At first there was only static.
Then muffled sounds.
Metal scraping somewhere.
Heavy breathing.
And then Sara’s terrified whisper:
“If you hear this… it means they know where I am.”
A loud banging noise interrupted the recording.
Sara gasped sharply.
Then her voice became desperate.
“Ahsan, don’t trust—”
The message cut off.
A loud distortion burst through the speaker.
End of recording.
Ahsan stared at the screen in horror.
Then came three knocks from inside the apartment.
Not at the front door.
Not outside.
From inside the hallway.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Ahsan stopped breathing.
The hallway beyond the living room was completely dark.
But something was standing there.
He couldn’t see it clearly.
Only a shape.
Tall.
Motionless.
Watching him.
Then lightning flashed again—
And the hallway was empty.
The Phone Started Ringing After Her Funeral
Part 3 — The Grave That Was Empty
Ahsan didn’t sleep that night.
He sat on the living room floor until morning, clutching the kitchen knife he had grabbed after seeing the figure in the hallway.
Every sound made him flinch.
Every flicker of lightning turned shadows into moving shapes.
But nothing else happened.
No more knocks.
No more calls.
Just silence.
The kind of silence that slowly drives a person insane.
By sunrise, the storm had passed, leaving the city washed in pale gray light. Ahsan immediately checked the hallway again.
There was nobody there.
No signs of forced entry.
No wet footprints.
Nothing.
It looked perfectly normal.
Which somehow felt worse.
He replayed Sara’s voice message at least twenty times.
Each time, he noticed something new.
The echo in the background.
The metallic scraping sound.
Her breathing.
And most importantly—
the fear in her voice.
It was real.
Too real to fake.
Ahsan finally called Hamza again around 8 AM.
“I need you to come over.”
Hamza arrived within half an hour.
The moment he entered, he stopped.
“You look like hell.”
Ahsan handed him the phone without replying.
Hamza listened to the recording silently.
At first, skepticism remained on his face.
Then slowly, it disappeared.
When the message ended, Hamza looked genuinely unsettled.
“That’s… actually Sara.”
“I told you.”
Hamza rubbed his face nervously.
“This isn’t funny anymore.”
“You think I’m joking?”
“No, I think someone is messing with you.”
“Who?”
Hamza had no answer.
Ahsan stood and began pacing.
“She said they know where she is.”
“She also sounded terrified.”
“And what if—”
Ahsan stopped mid-sentence.
Hamza looked at him carefully.
“What?”
Ahsan swallowed hard.
“What if she never died?”
The words sounded insane even to him.
But once spoken aloud, they refused to leave his mind.
Hamza stared at him.
“Ahsan…”
“The hospital barely let us see her face.”
“You buried her.”
“I buried a body wrapped in cloth.”
Silence filled the apartment.
Hamza finally shook his head.
“No. No chance.”
But his voice lacked confidence now.
Ahsan grabbed his jacket immediately.
“We’re going to the cemetery.”
The graveyard sat on the edge of the city beside an old mosque surrounded by dying trees.
Clouds still covered the sky when they arrived.
The air smelled of wet soil and rainwater.
Ahsan walked quickly between rows of graves until he found Sara’s.
Fresh flowers still rested beside the headstone.
Her name looked wrong carved into stone.
Too permanent.
Too final.
Hamza stood beside him quietly.
“You can’t seriously be thinking—”
Ahsan knelt beside the grave.
The soil looked disturbed.
Not freshly buried anymore.
Disturbed.
As if someone had dug into it recently.
“You see that?” Ahsan whispered.
Hamza frowned.
Probably animals.”
“No.”
The dirt near the edge looked uneven.
Messy.
Ahsan’s pulse quickened.
Without another word, he grabbed a nearby shovel left beside another grave.
Hamza stepped forward immediately.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I need to know.”
“Ahsan, stop.”
But Ahsan had already started digging.
Wet soil scattered across the grass.
His breathing became heavier with each movement.
Hamza kept arguing, but the words faded into background noise.
The only thing inside Ahsan’s head now was Sara’s voice.
Don’t let them find me.
After several exhausting minutes, the shovel struck wood.
Both men froze.
The coffin.
Hamza looked pale now.
“Ahsan… don’t do this.”
But Ahsan was already pulling at the lid.
His hands trembled violently.
Together, they forced it open.
Then both men stopped breathing.
The coffin was empty.
For several seconds neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Rainwater dripped softly from tree branches around them.
Ahsan stared into the coffin in complete horror.
Empty.
No body.
No burial cloth.
Nothing.
Hamza stumbled backward first.
“What the hell…”
Ahsan’s knees nearly gave out.
His mind refused to process what he was seeing.
“She was here,” he whispered.
“I saw them bury her.”
Hamza looked terrified now.
“This is impossible.”
Ahsan suddenly noticed scratches inside the coffin lid.
Long deep marks carved into the wood from the inside.
His blood turned cold.
Hamza saw them too.
“Oh God…”
Ahsan stepped away from the grave slowly.
His entire body shook uncontrollably now.
“She was alive.”
“No,” Hamza said quickly, almost desperately. “No, someone moved the body.”
“Then why the scratches?”
Hamza couldn’t answer.
A voice suddenly interrupted them.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Both men turned sharply.
An old cemetery caretaker stood several feet away beneath a black umbrella.
His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes looked nervous.
Very nervous.
Ahsan walked toward him immediately.
“Who opened this grave?”
The old man remained silent.
“ANSWER ME!”
The caretaker glanced around the graveyard uneasily before speaking quietly.
“She wasn’t the first.”
The wind seemed to stop entirely.
Ahsan frowned.
“What?”
The old man lowered his voice further.
“Sometimes… people are buried too early.”
Hamza stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
The caretaker ignored him.
Instead, he looked directly at Ahsan.
“If her phone called you…”
Ahsan’s heart nearly stopped.
“How do you know about that?”
The old man’s face became pale.
Then he whispered something that made Ahsan’s blood run cold.
“Because the others called too.”
Before either of them could respond, the caretaker turned and walked away quickly through the graves.
“Aye!” Hamza shouted.
But the old man disappeared behind rows of tombstones.
Ahsan immediately chased after him.
He rounded the corner past a large tree—
And stopped.
The caretaker was gone.
Completely gone.
The graveyard stretched empty in every direction.
Only wind moved now.
Then Ahsan’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
Slowly, he looked down.
1 New Message.
From Sara.
His hands trembled as he opened it.
Only four words were written inside.
They are watching you now.
The Phone Started Ringing After Her Funeral
Part 4 — The Number That Shouldn’t Exist
Ahsan read the message three times before his mind accepted the words.
They are watching you now.
A cold wave crawled down his spine.
Hamza grabbed the phone from his hand.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Ahsan looked around the graveyard instinctively.
Every person suddenly felt suspicious.
The old woman placing flowers near a grave.
The man standing beneath the tree smoking silently.
Even the distant caretaker near the mosque entrance.
For the first time since Sara’s death, fear became something bigger than grief.
This was real.
And someone else knew it too.
“We’re leaving,” Hamza said immediately.
Neither argued.
They hurried back toward the car while dark clouds gathered overhead again. The graveyard suddenly felt suffocating, as if invisible eyes followed every step.
Once inside the car, Hamza locked the doors instantly.
“Ahsan, listen to me carefully,” he said. “We go to the police now.”
“And tell them what?” Ahsan replied bitterly. “That my dead girlfriend keeps calling me?”
Hamza ran both hands through his hair in frustration.
“There has to be an explanation.”
“Then explain the empty grave.”
Hamza fell silent.
The drive back felt unbearably tense.
Halfway through the city, Ahsan noticed the same white van behind them for the third time.
No license plate.
Tinted windows.
Maintaining distance.
His stomach tightened.
“Hamza…”
Hamza checked the mirror.
The van turned exactly when they turned.
“Don’t panic,” Hamza muttered, though he clearly looked nervous now.
The rain started again.
Heavy.
Traffic slowed around them as water blurred the streets into streaks of red brake lights and neon reflections.
The van remained behind them the entire time.
When they finally reached Ahsan’s apartment building, the van stopped across the street.
Engine running.
Watching.
Hamza stared at it.
“That’s not normal.”
“No,” Ahsan whispered. “It isn’t.”
Neither moved for several seconds.
Then Hamza made a decision.
“You’re not staying alone tonight.”
They went upstairs together.
The apartment felt colder than usual.
Too still.
Ahsan locked the door while Hamza checked every room carefully.
Nobody inside.
But something felt wrong again.
The bedroom window was open.
Rainwater had soaked part of the floor beneath it.
“I closed this before we left,” Ahsan said quietly.
Hamza walked toward the window slowly.
Then stopped.
“There’s someone down there.”
Ahsan rushed beside him.
Across the street, near the white van, stood a tall figure beneath the rain.
Motionless.
Watching the apartment.
The face couldn’t be seen clearly.
Only the outline.
Then the figure slowly raised one hand toward the building.
And pointed directly at Ahsan.
The lights went out instantly.
Darkness swallowed the apartment.
Hamza cursed loudly.
“What the hell?!”
Outside, thunder exploded across the sky.
Ahsan’s breathing became rapid.
Then—
the phone rang again.
Not from his pocket.
From inside the apartment.
The sound echoed through the darkness.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Hamza turned pale.
“That’s not your ringtone.”
No.
It wasn’t.
This phone sounded older.
Sharper.
Like an old keypad mobile.
The ringing came from the kitchen.
Slowly, Ahsan turned on his flashlight.
The beam shook violently in his trembling hand.
Together, they walked toward the kitchen.
The ringing continued.
Louder now.
Closer.
When the flashlight beam finally crossed the counter—
both men froze.
An old black phone rested there.
Wet from rainwater.
Mud clung to its edges.
The screen glowed brightly.
Incoming Call — Sara
Ahsan’s blood turned to ice.
“That’s impossible,” Hamza whispered.
Ahsan recognized the phone immediately.
It was Sara’s actual phone.
The one buried with her.
The ringing stopped.
Then a new notification appeared.
1 Video Message Received.
Ahsan slowly pressed play.
The screen flickered.
Static.
Darkness.
Then shaky footage appeared.
Someone was recording while moving through a narrow concrete corridor.
Heavy breathing echoed from behind the camera.
Ahsan’s heart nearly stopped when Sara’s face appeared briefly in frame.
Pale.
Terrified.
Alive.
“Oh my God…” Hamza whispered.
The video continued shaking violently as Sara ran through the corridor.
Behind her, distant footsteps echoed.
Men shouting.
One voice yelled:
“Find her before she reaches him!”
Sara looked back at the camera, crying now.
“Ahsan, if you see this, you need to leave—”
A loud metallic crash interrupted her.
She screamed.
The camera fell sideways onto the floor.
Only darkness and footsteps remained visible now.
Then slowly—
another figure entered the frame.
Tall.
Wearing dark clothes.
Its face hidden.
The figure bent down toward the fallen phone.
And for one horrifying second, the camera captured its face.
Ahsan stopped breathing.
It was the hospital doctor who pronounced Sara dead.
The video ended.
Silence filled the apartment.
Only rain and thunder remained outside.
Hamza backed away slowly.
“No,” he whispered. “No way…”
Ahsan’s mind raced violently now.
The hospital.
The empty grave.
The calls.
The doctor.
None of this was random.
Sara had never died.
Someone had taken her.
Then suddenly—
three knocks echoed from the apartment door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Both men froze instantly.
A deep voice came from outside.
Calm.
Controlled.
“Ahsan.”
Neither moved.
The voice spoke again.
“We know she contacted you.”
Ahsan’s pulse hammered painfully in his ears.
Then the voice said something that made his entire body go numb.
“Open the door… if you want to see Sara alive again.”
