The night before she left the city, Amara had a strange and frightening dream. In the dream, she stood alone on a dark lane.
The Voice of Wind Wooooshhh... Wooooshhh
blew around her. It did not sound like ordinary wind; it whispered her name, over and over, as if it were a voice. Ahead of her was a large, old house with broken windows and heavy wooden doors The wind grew stronger and banged those doors..
Dhaaadd...Dhaaad...
so hard that the sound echoed through the valley. The doors swung open by themselves, revealing only darkness inside.
Then she woke up, heart racing..
thump..thump..thump...
the sound of the banging still in her ears.
The dream stayed with her all day as she packed her bags. Her Hand Was Shaking, She was leaving the busy city because she needed a quiet place to heal.
Her aunt had written about an empty estate in a village. Amara decided to move there and start over. She did not tell anyone about the dream; she felt it was a private warning.
When she reached the village,
Amara looking for taxi and auto rickshaw,
Hello there Taxi.. Taxi.. Taxi
Driver Stopped the taxi and Looked at her,
"The old place? No cars go there, i will only Drop you at post office" he said and dropped her off at the post office.
Amara walked up the lane alone. The sky was heavy with clouds. The same cold wind from her dream blew across the fields and whispered through the trees.
As she climbed the hill, she saw the house from her dream. It sat at the end of the lane, covered in ivy, its walls dark and wet. The wind pushed against the heavy front doors, making them slam open and shut, just as she had dreamed.
She was looking at the Old House Standing Front of the Door...
She stepped through the open doorway. The wind moved through the house like a living thing, slamming shutters and making old doors bang against their frames.
Dhaam, Dhaam, Dhaad...
The sound was loud and angry. She stood still and listened. Among the bangs and creaks, she could hear the wind whisper again, as if it carried someone's voice. It made her skin prickle.
Inside, the house was cold and full of dust. The large hall had a grand staircase. Doors opened to rooms on either side. Each time the wind blew, another door banged somewhere in the mansion.
Amara walked through the house, calming herself by touching old furniture and paintings. She told herself the sounds were just wind and old wood.
She chose a bedroom upstairs, "Yaar.. its So dusty here" She Stood and then Tied her Hair up, and found the Broom
Sighed... Huuusshhhh...
Well "Amara, no need to Worry let's Clean...
and began to clean it. The wind rattled the windows, and sometimes doors slammed in far rooms, making her jump. She laughed at herself but could not shake the feeling that the wind was trying to tell her something.
As evening fell, rain began to pour. The wind grew even stronger. It howled down the chimney and pushed at the doors.
Amara lit a candle and sat by the window. She felt both lonely and watched Suddenly, she heard footsteps, slow and heavy, from downstairs.
They did not sound like the wind or the banging doors. They were someone walking. The footsteps climbed the stairs. A soft knock came at her door.
Amara felt a mix of fear and curiosity. "Who is there?" she called.
The wind whistled in the hallway but no one answered.
Knock... Knock... Knock..
The knock came again, louder, as the wind banged another door at the end of the hall. She opened the door.
A young man stood there, he had stepped out of the storm itself. Rain had plastered his dark hair to his forehead and left small rivulets running down the sharp lines of his face. He wore a weathered leather jacket over a thin, button‑down shirt and dark jeans that clung to his long legs.
The jacket, though soaked, still held its shape, hinting at the strength of the shoulders beneath it. His skin was a warm bronze, his jaw defined by a few days' stubble, and his high cheekbones gave him a striking, almost noble look. Grey eyes—clear even in the dim light—met hers with a steady, thoughtful gaze. Despite the wildness of the wind and rain around him, there was a quiet confidence in the way he stood, and the water glistening on his eyelashes and collar only added to the rugged handsomeness that made Amara catch her breath.
She Asked Him, Who?
My Name is Ravi..
"I live Near the Estate... He Told her...
That he explained her..
he had lived near the estate as a child and thought the house was empty. The wind blew behind him, making the doors along the hall bang again. Amara saw something gentle in his eyes and decided to trust him.
They went down to the kitchen. Amara found dry wood and they lit a fire. The wind still beat against the house, and doors banged in distant rooms. Every time there was a loud bang, they stopped talking and listened.
Amara Sighed.. and looked at Ravi's Face...
The sound gave the house life, like it was breathing or speaking...
"my mom said living in this house could feel very lonely"
She thought the wind carried the voices of those who had lived there before. Amara wondered if that was what she had heard in her dream and now.
Amara Said, Let's go to the Kitchen i'll make you Some tea..
Sure.. Ravi looked at her and walked with her..
While they drank Tea and waited for the storm to pass, the banging suddenly stopped. The house grew very still.
Dhaaaaaaammmmm.....
Then there was a crash upstairs...
They ran to her room. Her suitcase had fallen, and her clothes were scattered. On the wall, in the dust, words appeared:
"You are not alone."