The Woman in the Window

A long, empty corridor. Motion-sensor lights flick on ahead of RIYA (late 20s), the night caretaker. Cardigan over workwear, hair tied back, keys on a belt loop. She pushes a MOP BUCKET with one hand, FLASHLIGHT in the other, WALKIE-TALKIE clipped to her shoulder.

Bas, last round. Phir ghar.

She moves. The corridor stretches unnaturally long under pale moonlight from tall windows.

School raat ko itna lamba kyun lagta hai, yaar?

Her flashlight sweeps across classroom doors. Locked. Locked. Locked.

The WALKIE-TALKIE crackles.

WALKIE-TALKIE (V.O.)

All okay?

Haan, sab theek hai.

She passes a tall WINDOW. In the glass reflection, a WOMAN stands behind her.

RIYA stops.

Nahi... reflection hoga.

She turns.

The hallway behind her is empty.

Okay. Cool. Great. Thakaan.

She walks on, forcing a laugh.

Arre wah, school bhi overtime kar raha hai.

She reaches the same WINDOW again as the motion lights blink ahead. The WOMAN is there again in the reflection, still and staring.

RIYA freezes.

Mazaq mat kar.

She points the flashlight at the glass. The beam flares. For a second, a faint female face. Then only moonlight.

WALKIE-TALKIE crackles with static.

Bas hawa hai.

She continues, now alert. Checks each door handle.

One, two, three...

She stops at ROOM 3B. A different key dangles from her belt loop.

Aha. Yeh wali.

She looks toward the window. The WOMAN is still there, watching.

Theek hai. Main dekh leti hoon.

She inserts the key. The lock clicks. Door opens.

Darkness. Dust. Empty desks. Chalkboard at the front. RIYA enters cautiously, flashlight up.

Hello? Koi hai?

Silence.

Of course. Empty school. Empty room. Empty life.

She scans the room. No one.

RIYA turns back toward the door, then stops.

The WINDOW now shows only her reflection.

Okay. So that happened.

A faint CHALK SCRATCH.

RIYA turns slowly toward the BLACKBOARD.

On the board, fresh white chalk writing:

“Riya,

kal 10:17 PM par wapas aana.”

RIYA stares.

Nope.

She steps closer, shaken.

Mera naam...?

She spots a CHALK PIECE on the floor, picks it up. Fresh dust on her fingers.

The WALKIE-TALKIE crackles again.

WALKIE-TALKIE (V.O.)

Kal 10:17 PM par wapas aana.

RIYA goes pale.

Maine nahi bola.

The voice crackles again—this time it sounds like her own.

WALKIE-TALKIE (V.O.)

Maine nahi bola.

RIYA drops the chalk.

The hallway lights outside begin to switch off one by one.

RIYA rushes to the door, then stops dead.

In the WINDOW reflection, the WOMAN stands behind her again.

Only now the face is clearer.

It is RIYA.

Same cardigan. Same tied hair. Same fear.

Main...

The reflection smiles, but RIYA does not.

RIYA backs away, clutching the flashlight.

Nahi. Nahi, nahi, nahi.

The reflection raises one finger and points to the board.

RIYA looks back.

The chalk message has changed.

Now it reads:

“Kal nahi. Aaj.”

A beat.

RIYA’s breath catches.

Aaj kya?

The room goes dark.

Only the moonlight through the window remains.

In the glass, the WOMAN is gone.

RIYA is still there.

Then, from somewhere behind her, a soft CHALK SCRATCH.

RIYA turns.

RIYA (V.O.)

Kal 10:17 PM par wapas aana.