3:03 A.M.

Rohan had recently moved to Mumbai for a new job. The apartment was cheap, surprisingly spacious, and located in an old building that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the 1980s. The landlord had been eager—almost desperate—to rent it out.

“You won’t have any disturbances,” the landlord had said with a thin smile.

That should have been a warning.

On his first night, Rohan couldn’t sleep. The city noises were different from his hometown. Distant horns. Dogs barking. The hum of traffic below.

At exactly 3:03 a.m., his phone vibrated.

It was a WhatsApp notification.

From an unknown number.

The message read:

“Are you comfortable in my room?”

Rohan frowned. Probably a wrong number.

He replied:

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

The typing dots appeared instantly.

“No. You’re in my room.”

A chill crept down his spine.

He checked the number’s profile picture.

It was blank.

But the status…

The status said:

“Last seen: 3:03 a.m.”

That was… right now.

Before he could think further, another message came.

“Don’t open the wardrobe.”

Rohan’s eyes slowly moved toward the old wooden wardrobe standing in the corner of his bedroom. It had been there when he moved in. The landlord had told him to use it.

He hadn’t opened it yet.

Trying to stay calm, he typed:

“Who is this?”

The reply came.

“I used to sleep where you’re sleeping.”

His heart started pounding.

This is a prank. It has to be.

He stood up, walked to the wardrobe, and grabbed the handle.

His phone vibrated violently.

“I SAID DON’T OPEN IT.”

He froze.

His hands were sweating now.

Anger replaced fear.

“This is stupid,” he muttered.

He pulled the wardrobe open.

Inside were only hangers.

And at the bottom…

Scratch marks.

Deep scratch marks on the inside of the door.

As if someone had tried to claw their way out.

His phone buzzed again.

“You let me out.”

The lights flickered.

Then went out completely.

The entire apartment plunged into darkness.

Rohan’s breath became heavy. He turned on his phone’s flashlight.

The wardrobe was still open.

Empty.

But the air in the room felt… heavier.

Colder.

His phone buzzed again.

He looked down.

There was a photo.

A photo sent from the unknown number.

It was a picture of him.

Standing in front of the wardrobe.

Taken from behind.

Just seconds ago.

His hands started shaking uncontrollably.

There’s someone in the apartment.

He spun around, shining the flashlight across the room.

Nothing.

The door was still locked from inside.

Windows shut.

No balcony.

Nowhere to hide.

The phone buzzed again.

“Turn around slowly.”

He didn’t want to.

He couldn’t.

Another message.

“I don’t like being ignored.”

The flashlight began flickering.

Then it went off.

Complete darkness.

In the silence, he heard something.

A faint dragging sound.

From inside the wardrobe.

But… it was empty.

Wasn’t it?

His breathing grew louder in his own ears.

He forced himself to shine the light again.

The wardrobe door was closed.

He was sure he had left it open.

His phone vibrated again.

But this time…

It wasn’t a message.

It was a WhatsApp call.

From the same number.

With trembling fingers, he declined it.

Immediately, a voice whispered behind him:

“Why won’t you answer?”

He felt breath on his neck.

Cold.

Rotten.

He tried to scream.

But something tightened around his throat.

Invisible hands.

Dragging him backward.

Toward the wardrobe.

The door slowly creaked open on its own.

Inside…

It wasn’t empty anymore.

There was darkness inside the wardrobe.

Not normal darkness.

It looked deep.

Endless.

As if it led somewhere else.

His phone fell to the floor, screen still glowing.

Another message appeared.

“Last seen: 3:03 a.m.”

The next morning, the landlord unlocked the apartment.

The bed was empty.

The room looked untouched.

Except for the wardrobe.

It was slightly open.

Inside, new scratch marks covered the wood.

And carved deeply into the back panel were three words:

“THIS IS MY ROOM.”

Later that day, the apartment was listed again.

Cheap rent.

No disturbances.

And at exactly 3:03 a.m.,

The next tenant received a message:

“Are you comfortable in my room?”