The House on Westminster
In Westminster, the rain had not stopped for three days.
It fell endlessly over the quiet streets, soaking the old stones and whispering against shuttered windows. Mist clung low to the ground like a hidden memory that refused to fade. In this town, people believed in only two things—love and silence.
Love, because it gave meaning to their otherwise lonely lives.
Silence, because some stories were too painful to be told.
Imli arrived on such a night.
She came from far away, carrying a single suitcase and wearing a long raincoat. Her heart was full—of memories, of loss, of something she had never truly escaped. The house on Westminster stood before her, tall and still, as though it had been waiting.
The landlord had warned her.
"People don't stay long here."
Imli had only given a faint smile.
"Neither do I."
That night, as rain tapped softly against the windows, she unpacked in silence. Among her belongings lay a photo frame. She picked it up for a moment… then turned it face down without looking.
Some memories were better left unseen.
At exactly 2:00 a.m., the silence broke.
A faint sound echoed through the house.
Zzz… zzz… zzz…
Imli froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
The voice that followed was soft. Familiar.
Too familiar.
Fear crept into her bones as darkness pressed heavily around her. The house felt colder than it should have been, as though the night itself had seeped into its walls. For a moment, she stood trembling.
Then she forced herself to breathe.
I can face this, she told herself. I have to.
Morning came like a lie—bright, calm, and almost peaceful, as if the night had never happened.
That was when she met Carter.
He stood by the fence outside, repairing a piece of broken wood with quiet focus. There was something distant about him, something unfinished.
"You moved into that house?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes," Imli replied.
He paused, then said quietly, "You shouldn't stay there."
Imli smiled lightly. "Why? Ghost stories?"
He didn't smile.
"Some stories don't end."
She studied him for a moment, curiosity flickering in her eyes. There was something in the way he spoke—something real. But she brushed it aside with a small smile.
The days passed.
The house was large—four rooms, a wide hall, and long corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly. Yet it never felt full. Only empty.
Too empty.
By the second night, strange things began to happen.
Doors creaked open on their own.
Footsteps echoed in empty rooms.
And sometimes… her reflection in the mirror lagged behind, as if reluctant to follow her.
But the most unsettling part always came between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m.
That was when the voice returned.
One night, Imli decided not to ignore it.
She followed the sound.
It led her to the basement.
Cold air wrapped around her as she stepped down. The walls felt damp, the silence heavy. Then her eyes fell upon something carved deep into the wooden wall.
Words.
Words that stole her breath.
Imli & Rohan
Her heart shattered.
Rohan.
The name she had buried.
The love she had lost.
The man who once promised—
"Even if I die, I will never leave you."
He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.
And now…
His voice had found her again.
Imli staggered back, panic rising within her.
"This isn't real," she whispered. "This can't be real…"
"He's not."
Carter's voice came from behind her. Calm, steady—but his eyes held something broken.
"The house feeds on grief," he said. "It gives you what you miss the most… and traps you with it."
Imli shook her head, tears forming.
"No… I heard him. I felt him."
Carter stepped closer.
"That's how it begins."
That night, Imli did not run.
She waited.
The clock struck again. The air grew cold.
"Rohan…" she whispered into the darkness. "Is it you?"
A shadow formed.
A voice answered.
"I told you… I would never leave you."
Tears streamed down her face.
For a moment, love felt stronger than death.
But something was wrong.
It felt like love.
It felt like hunger.
The realization crept in slowly, painfully.
This wasn't him.
This wasn't love.
The next day, Carter told her the truth.
"My sister lived in that house," he said quietly. "She heard the man she loved. She believed him."
Imli's voice trembled. "What happened to her?"
Carter looked away.
"She never came back."
That night, everything changed.
The voice grew stronger. The shadow clearer.
"What do you want me to be?" it whispered, twisting unnaturally.
The room shook violently.
"You cannot leave me."
For the first time, Imli saw the truth clearly.
This was not love.
This was possession.
She stood frozen, tears falling silently.
"What do I do?" she cried.
The answer came—not from the shadow, but from somewhere deep within her heart.
Simple.
Clear.
Painful.
"Let me go."
The silence that followed felt endless.
Then—
Morning came.
Sunlight poured into the house, soft and golden. The shadows were gone. The whispers had faded.
Everything looked… normal.
As if nothing had ever happened.
But Imli knew.
Some stories never truly end.
And some loves must be released… to finally rest