The Room That Answered Back

The room was never part of the house.

At least, that’s what Sameer believed.

He had lived in the rented apartment for almost a year before he noticed it. A narrow door at the end of the hallway, painted the same dull white as the walls, always closed. At first, he assumed it was a storage closet. Landlords liked hiding unfinished spaces.

But one night, while returning late from work, he saw light leaking from beneath the door.

That was strange.

Sameer was certain he had never opened it. He stood there for a moment, listening. No sound. Just light. Soft, yellow, steady.

He knocked.

Nothing.

He opened the door.

Inside was a small room, barely large enough for a single bed. No windows. No furniture. Just a chair in the center and a mirror mounted on the far wall. The mirror was old, its edges darkened with age, as if something had slowly bled into the glass over time.

The light came from above, though Sameer couldn’t see a bulb.

A cold feeling settled in his chest.

He closed the door and told himself it was exhaustion playing tricks on him.

The next morning, the door was gone.

In its place was a blank wall.

Sameer laughed nervously and blamed stress. He worked long hours. Slept poorly. Hallucinations happened, right?

But that night, he heard something.

A sound that didn’t belong.

A soft tapping.

Coming from the hallway.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Sameer opened his bedroom door.

The door was back.

This time, it was slightly open.

A voice whispered from inside.

“Come in.”

Sameer froze.

The voice sounded like him.

Same pitch. Same tone. Same hesitation.

His heart pounded as logic fought instinct. He should have run. He should have left the apartment. Instead, curiosity pushed him forward.

The room was exactly the same.

Chair. Mirror. Light.

Except now, the mirror reflected more than it should have.

Sameer saw himself standing there—but the reflection was smiling.

He wasn’t.

The reflection raised a hand.

Sameer didn’t.

“Sit,” the reflection said gently.

Sameer’s legs moved without permission. He sat on the chair, breath shallow, palms sweating.

“You’ve been tired,” the reflection continued. “You don’t sleep. You don’t talk to anyone. You barely exist.”

Sameer tried to stand. His body refused.

“You don’t belong out there anymore,” the reflection whispered. “But I do.”

The mirror began to ripple, like disturbed water. The smiling version of Sameer leaned closer, pressing a hand against the glass from the inside.

“You were never meant to stay,” it said. “You were just the draft.”

The light flickered.

Sameer screamed.

He woke up on his bed, drenched in sweat, heart racing. Morning light streamed through the window. The hallway was normal. No door. No room.

A nightmare.

He called in sick that day. Tried to laugh it off. Tried to forget.

But things began to change.

His reflection lagged slightly when he moved. Smiled when he didn’t. Sometimes blinked out of sync.

People at work told him he seemed… different. Quieter. Sharper. Less tired.

Stronger.

One evening, as Sameer washed his face, the bathroom mirror fogged over on its own.

Words appeared in the steam.

THANK YOU FOR THE ROOM.

Sameer backed away, shaking.

That night, he found the door again.

Wide open.

The room was empty now.

No chair.

No mirror.

Just darkness.

A note lay on the floor.

“You can rest now.”

The next morning, neighbors reported seeing Sameer leave the apartment smiling, confident, finally well-rested.

They didn’t notice that his reflection in the elevator mirror never blinked.

And they didn’t hear the soft tapping from inside the walls of the empty apartment.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Waiting.