For the first time since Meera appeared…
she was nervous.
Actually nervous.
No jokes.
No floating upside down.
No biscuit stealing.
Raghav got scared immediately.
“You’re acting normal,” he said carefully.
“That bad?”
“Yes.”
Meera sat near the window quietly.
Rain outside again.
Apparently weather also supported drama.
Raghav sat beside her.
“…What happened?”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then sighed.
“You ever wonder how I died?”
Raghav froze.
Honestly?
Yes.
Daily.
Aggressively.
But somehow…
he never asked.
Because the apartment already had enough emotional damage.
Meera smiled faintly.
“See? That face. That’s exactly why I never told you.”
“I’m just preparing mentally.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Ghost murder? Haunted banana peel? Supernatural tax fraud?”
She laughed softly.
“There you are.”
Then silence again.
Gentler this time.
“I was twenty-four,” she said quietly.
Raghav listened carefully.
No jokes now.
Only her voice.
“I lived alone.”
Pause.
“Horrible cooking. Worse life decisions.”
“Relatable,” Raghav muttered.
She smiled slightly.
Then continued.
“I worked too much. Slept too little. Thought loneliness was temporary.”
Raghav looked at her.
Something about that sentence hurt.
“One night,” she said softly,
“I got really sick.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Not ghost-cold.
Lonely-cold.
“I thought it was nothing.”
She laughed weakly.
“Classic human confidence.”
Raghav stayed quiet.
For once…
he didn’t interrupt.
“I fainted here.”
She looked around the apartment slowly.
“Right near that stupid sofa.”
Raghav immediately looked at the sofa.
Then slowly moved his legs away from it.
Meera blinked.
“…What are you doing?”
“Respectfully distancing myself from death furniture.”
She burst out laughing.
Full laughter.
Head thrown back.
Ghost chaos restored.
“You IDIOT,” she wheezed.
“That sofa has history!”
“It has trauma!”
Raghav smiled in relief.
“There she is.”
Meera wiped imaginary tears.
“I’m trying to tell emotional story and you’re fighting furniture.”
“The furniture started it.”
She laughed again.
Then quieter this time:
“Nobody found me for two days.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Raghav’s smile disappeared slowly.
Meera looked away casually.
Too casually.
Like she practiced sounding okay.
“I think…” she said softly,
“that’s why I stayed.”
“Stayed?”
“As a ghost.”
Raghav frowned.
“I was lonely when I died,” she whispered.
“And somehow…”
her eyes moved toward him,
“…you felt exactly the same.”
Raghav looked down immediately.
Because feelings were disgusting.
Meera smiled faintly.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“You’re the first person who made this place feel alive again.”
Raghav’s heart malfunctioned instantly.
So naturally…
he panicked.
“You know what else is alive?” he said suddenly.
“Cockroaches.”
Meera stared.
“…Excuse me?”
“I saw one yesterday.”
“You interrupted emotional intimacy for insect discussion?”
Raghav pointed aggressively.
“Trauma makes people unpredictable.”
Meera laughed again.
Softly this time.
Affectionately.
Dangerously.
Then she leaned closer.
“You really can’t handle feelings, can you?”
“No.”
“Pathetic.”
“Correct.”
She smiled.
And for one second…
she looked less like a ghost.
Less like a haunting.
More like someone who simply wanted to stay.
Raghav swallowed carefully.
“…Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Being… like this.”
Meera thought for a moment.
Then shrugged.
“Not anymore.”
Pause.
Then quietly:
“Not when you’re around.”
Raghav stopped breathing emotionally.
So obviously…
he ruined it.
Again.
“You know,” he muttered nervously,
“technically this is the weirdest relationship in human history.”
Meera grinned instantly.
“Wrong.”
“What?”
“I’m dead. This relationship is post-human.”
Raghav groaned loudly.
“There she is.”
And that night…
for the first time…
Raghav understood something painful.
Meera wasn’t haunting the apartment.
She was haunting loneliness itself.
And somehow…
he had become her home too.