The Neighbor Who Never Existed:

I moved into the building on a quiet avenue in Karachi, drawn by means of its faded allure and the promise of solitude. The lease changed into cheap, the friends polite, and the view from the 1/3 ground overlooked a sleepy park wherein children performed till dusk.

It became best — until I met the neighbor in 3B.

I first saw him on my 2nd night. i was locking my door whilst he stepped out of his rental. Tall, skinny, dressed in a charcoal kurta, he nodded at me however said not anything. His eyes have been darkish, unreadable. I presented a well mannered smile. He didn’t go back it.

From then on, I noticed him often. always at abnormal hours — midnight, three a.m., simply earlier than dawn. He never spoke, never carried groceries, in no way had site visitors. however I heard him. Footsteps pacing. A chair scraping. every so often, a low hum, like someone singing to themselves.

One night time, I heard knocking. no longer on my door — on his. Rhythmic, sluggish, persistent. i peeked through the peephole. nobody changed into there. but the knocking persisted.

I asked the building manager about him. “3B?” he said, frowning. “That condominium’s been empty for years.”

I laughed nervously. “No, a person lives there. I see him all the time.” The supervisor shook his head. “impossible. The final tenant left after his brother died. no one’s rented it since.”

I pressed him. He grew uncomfortable. “look, I don’t recognise what you’re seeing. however 3B is locked. constantly has been.”

That night time, I waited. At 2:17 a.m., the door to 3B creaked open. The neighbor stepped out, glanced at me, then walked down the corridor. I followed quietly, heart pounding. He became the corner — and vanished.

I checked the hallway. No exit. No open doors. just silence.

the next morning, I tried the door to 3B. It turned into locked. I knocked. No answer. I placed my ear in opposition to the timber. nothing.

but that evening, the humming again.

I commenced documenting the whole thing. instances, sounds, sightings. I even recorded audio — faint footsteps, a whisper I couldn’t decipher. I showed it to a pal. He listened, then paled. “There’s a second voice,” he stated. “a person’s answering him.”

I played it once more. He turned into right. I faced the supervisor. “I want to see inner 3B.” He resisted, but I insisted. in the end, he agreed. We unlocked the door together.

The apartment turned into empty. dirt covered the ground. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. No furnishings, no signs of lifestyles. but inside the corner, a unmarried chair faced the window.

I stepped closer. at the wall in the back of it, scratched into the plaster, have been words: “I by no means left.”

The manager grew to become pale. “We need to head.”

I agreed. however as I stepped out, I saw him once more — the neighbor, standing at the give up of the corridor. watching. I blinked. He became gone.

I moved out days later. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t assume. The sounds observed me — footsteps, humming, whispers.

Weeks surpassed. I tried to forget about. however one night time, I received a message. No sender. just textual content: “You noticed me. that means I’m real.”

I deleted it. but it lower back. again and again. Now, anywhere i'm going, I test the windows. I listen for humming. I look ahead to shadows.

because once you see the neighbor who by no means existed… he by no means stops seeing you.