His sleep was disturbed by an irritating itch on his arm. Still half-asleep, he rubbed it absentmindedly. A sudden longing to hug his wife overtook him. Without opening his eyes, he turned and stretched his arm to pull her close—
But his arm fell onto the cold bed.
Confused, he patted the mattress, searching.
Empty. The bed was empty.
Opening his eyes, he saw Indra standing a few steps away, brushing her hair in silence. Relief swept through him. Smiling sleepily, he got up and walked over, wrapping his arms gently around her from behind.
“My love... it’s still early. Let’s go back to bed,” he whispered, brushing her hair aside and planting a soft kiss on her shoulder.
She giggled.
The sound made him smile—and he continued trailing kisses along her shoulder and back. But something changed. Her giggles grew louder, then stranger. Twisted. Unnatural.
A chill crept up his spine.
He paused. The laughter continued—louder now, warped and echoing. Then he noticed it: her back was wet, glistening in the dim light.
Red.
His heart skipped a beat. He pulled back, startled. His lips felt wet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—and stared in horror.
Blood.
“Indra…?” he whispered, voice shaking.
She didn’t respond.
The eerie laughter filled the room, echoing from every corner. He followed her gaze—and saw it.
She was standing in front of the mirror.
He looked up at the reflection. His breath caught.
It was her.
But not Indra.
It was Chandra—her face twisted in a wild grin, eyes filled with madness—laughing. Then suddenly, silence.
And in that silence, one word:
“Chandra…”
A piercing scream shattered the stillness—and the mirror exploded.
Shards of glass flew like knives. He threw his arms up to shield his face, and agony tore through his skin as the glass slashed him. The pain was sharp, unbearable—
And then—
He opened his eyes.
Bright morning light filled the room. He was still in bed. Gasping for breath, his body soaked in sweat, he realized…
It was just a dream.
He ran a trembling hand across his face, exhaling in relief. But then—
A soft humming sound.
He turned—and froze.
Indra was standing there, brushing her hair.
He shot up from bed, heart racing, and rushed to her side. Grabbing her shoulder, he turned her to face him.
“Indra! Why is it here? Why?!”
“I don’t know…” she said, startled. “When I woke up… it was already here.”
His voice faltered. He looked past her—and saw it.
The mirror.
Just like in the dream.
Indra noticed the fear in his face and reached for his arm to comfort him—but then she gasped. Her hand pulled away, stained red.
“Vikram… your arm—what happened?” she cried, panic rising as she turned his arm to inspect it. Deep cuts lined his skin, still bleeding.
He winced. The pain was real.
The wounds… from the dream?
Before either could speak, the same twisted laughter echoed through the room.
Both of them froze.
He turned to look at Indra—her face pale, her eyes wide. She heard it too.
Her hand trembled in his.
Slowly, together, they turned to face the mirror.
And there she was.
Chandra.
Her reflection was laughing wildly, her eyes glowing with madness.
“HAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
………
After that terrifying incident, Indra fainted and soon fell ill with a cold. Seeing how deeply it had affected her, Vikram didn’t waste a moment—he sent an urgent message to Mano, asking him to return home immediately.
Two days later, news arrived of Mano’s return. That same morning, Indra finally regained consciousness, but something was off. Her memory was hazy. She seemed to have forgotten the entire incident. Watching her smile again, Vikram chose not to bring it up.
When Mano arrived, he was confused. The urgency in his brother’s message had made him rush back—but now, Vikram looked calm and composed.
“Brother, what happened—” Mano began, but Vikram quickly raised a hand, gesturing for silence. He nodded toward Indra, who was distracted by the conversation.
“Mona, you’ve come home!” she said cheerfully. “I’ll ask Mother Sika to cook something special today.” She looked at Vikram, gave a warm nod, and left to give them some space.
“We’ll talk tonight,” Vikram said quietly, his expression troubled.
……
“Ow… ever since I recovered from the cold, I’ve felt like I’ve forgotten something. Why does my memory feel so disturbed?” Indra murmured to herself as a sharp pain shot through her head. She paused to rub her forehead, then continued walking toward her room.
The hallway was quiet—eerily quiet. No one was around. But she welcomed the stillness. It felt like the perfect time to take a long, soothing bath before bed. Humming a soft tune to herself, she began planning her peaceful evening.
She was just a few steps away from her room when a gentle voice called from behind.
“My lady…”
She turned to see a short woman dressed in a maid’s uniform standing in the shadows.
“My lady, the King is asking for you.”
……. 
That night, after dinner, Vikram led Mano to a private room. He was nervous, unsure how to explain what had happened. He feared Mano might not understand—or worse, not believe—the seriousness of the situation.
“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” Mano asked, clearly tired of waiting.
“…Chandra,” Vikram said quietly.
Just hearing the name sent a shiver down Mano’s spine.
Why bring up the name of the dead? he wondered.
“What about her?” he asked cautiously.
“She’s back,” Vikram said, lowering himself into the chair in front of the table.
Mano exhaled sharply, folding his arms.
“How can someone who’s dead come back? Are you losing your mind? Why can’t you let go of her, Vikram? You’re married now—to Indra.”
His voice rose with frustration. The thought of his brother still being haunted by Chandra made his blood boil. He stood up and began pacing the room.
“You don’t understand—” Vikram started, but Mano cut him off.
“What is this doing here?” Mano asked, suddenly noticing a large object covered in cloth in the corner. He yanked the cloth down.
It was the mirror—the very one that had been locked away deep within the palace.
Vikram’s face went pale. “It’s already happened twice. Every time we try to hide the mirror, it finds its way back.”
Mano stared at the mirror, stunned.
“She’s back,” Vikram whispered, “but not as a human…”
The words hit Mano like a blow. The cloth he had been holding slipped from his hands and fell to the floor.
“That’s why… you didn’t want Indra to be here,” he said, his voice trembling.
Knock. Knock.
A sudden knock echoed through the room.
Both men froze.
A chill ran down their spines as the door creaked open… slowly.
……. 
“Are you new here?” Indra asked the maid who was leading her to the King’s room.
“No, my lady… but I was on a long leave,” the maid replied softly.
They continued walking in silence. Indra’s curiosity grew—why had the King summoned her when he had just asked her to rest?
“My lady, we’ve arrived,” the maid said, stopping beside a closed door.
Indra stepped forward and knocked twice.
“Thank you for showing me the way… You have such uniquely colored eyes,” she added with a warm smile as she opened the door.
But the moment the door opened, she froze. Inside, Vikram and Mano looked completely stunned.
“My love, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting,” Vikram said, concerned in his voice.
Indra’s brows furrowed. “But… my love, the maid told me you needed me here,” she said, stepping into the room.
“Which maid?” Mano asked quickly, curious.