Ayaan didn't blink.
The Rehan in front of him took a step forward, and the hanging one swayed slightly in the tree, as if moved by some unseen wind.
"No…" Ayaan whispered. "No. You're not him."
The standing Rehan tilted his head. "I'm what he left behind. Pieces. Fears. Truths he won't admit."
"I know Rehan," Ayaan snapped. "He wouldn't say something like that."
A smile formed on the fake Rehan's face—a crooked one. "You're right. He wouldn't. But maybe that's because he's still pretending none of this is real. Just like you."
Then, without warning, it shattered.
The image of the hanging Rehan broke into a thousand pieces—like glass—and disappeared into the wind.
The other one?
Gone too.
The forest went dead silent.
Ayaan backed away slowly. The bark of the strange tree was still pulsing faintly, like it was breathing. He turned and ran.
---
Rehan wasn't far, but he wasn't moving.
He stood near a small stream, looking down into the water. When Ayaan reached him, he didn't turn.
"I saw something in the water," Rehan said quietly.
"What?"
"My father. Sitting in the hospital. The night he died." He turned slowly. "I was here, but it felt like I was there. Like it wanted me to remember. Not just what happened… but what I felt. Like it's feeding on that."
Ayaan didn't say anything. His throat was tight.
They both stood there, silent, listening to the stream.
Then Rehan whispered, "What if Sameer's still here… but not whole anymore?"
---
Meanwhile, in the city...
Naira had locked every window and door, but the silence in the house felt wrong. Too loud.
She pulled out the old notebook Sameer had once doodled in. It was blank—she was sure.
But tonight, something was written on the first page.
"It remembers you."
She flipped the page. Her fingers trembled.
Another line.
"You shouldn't have let them go back."
She dropped the book.
That's when the light outside her window flickered again.
She slowly pulled the curtain back—
A face was pressed against the glass.
But it vanished the second she blinked.
---
Back in the forest...
They were deeper now.
They hadn't seen the moon for hours.
Only a faint, blue glow came from the moss on the trees.
Then they heard it.
Footsteps.
Human.
Running.
Rehan raised his flashlight. "Sameer?"
They turned toward the sound—heart hammering.
A figure burst from the trees, clothes torn, face scratched, eyes wide with madness.
"RUN!" he screamed.
It was Sameer.
They didn't ask. They turned and ran with him.
Branches whipped against their faces. The ground was slick. Ayaan slipped once, then caught himself.
"Where were you?" Rehan shouted as they ran.
But Sameer didn't answer.
Not yet.
They reached a clearing—a different one. This time, there was a structure.
A wooden doorframe. Just standing alone. No walls. No roof.
Just a door, in the middle of nowhere.
Sameer stopped, panting. "It's… a way out."
Rehan stared at it. "Are you kidding? A door in the middle of the forest?"
"I've used it before," Sameer whispered. "But… it doesn't take you where you want. It takes you where you need to go."
"Sameer, what happened to you?"
Sameer looked at them. His voice cracked. "I don't think I ever left the forest."
---
They argued, hesitated, circled the door.
But they were running out of time.
Shadows moved between the trees—not walking, not crawling. Slithering.
Rehan grabbed the handle.
It turned with a soft click.
A gust of wind blew from inside—warm, and familiar. He saw a glimpse of his house. His sister crying. His name written in red.
Ayaan saw a hospital hallway. Flickering lights. His mother screaming.
Sameer didn't look.
He stepped in.
Gone.
Rehan and Ayaan looked at each other.
Then the wind grew colder.
They stepped through.
---
And somewhere far away...
The forest was silent again.
But not empty.
Leaves rustled softly.
Then a voice whispered from nowhere:
"One step across... and it begins again."
---