Woh Kaun Thi? - Maaneet SS - Chp 3 / 31 Jan 2025 pg 1

Prompt Credit - @Mystic_Muse

~ Woh Kaun Thi? ~

PROLOGUE

The silence of the old manor was deafening, broken only by the whisper of the wind that carried secrets from another time. Geet Handa had lived alone for as long as she could remember, her days shrouded in a quiet melancholy that no one dared to question. When Maan Singh Khurana entered her life, everything began to shift...the air grew heavier, the nights darker, and the past refused to stay buried. Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, Maan couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath her serene smile lay a truth that defied understanding. And as their worlds collided, he found himself asking - Who was Geet Handa? and why did she feel both so familiar and so far away?

CHAPTER 1

The train screeched to a halt, its metallic groan echoing across the desolate platform. Maan Singh Khurana stepped onto the weathered stones, his boots crunching against the gravel. The town, nestled in the folds of the hills, was wrapped in an unsettling silence, as though time itself had paused to watch his arrival. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the kind of cold that crept into your bones and lingered.

He had come for work - a property dispute case requiring his expertise. It was a simple enough assignment, or so he thought. The quiet isolation of this town seemed a world away from the chaos he was used to. Yet, as he walked through the narrow, cobbled streets, a strange heaviness settled in his chest, an unshakable feeling of being watched.

The locals were reserved, their eyes filled with something Maan couldn’t quite place. Fear? Curiosity? It was hard to tell. Their hushed voices followed him as he made his way to the estate that would serve as his temporary residence - a sprawling, dilapidated manor perched at the edge of the forest.

The moment he saw it, he stopped in his tracks. The structure stood like a sentinel against the twilight sky, its once-majestic facade now weathered by time. Ivy crept up its walls like veins, and the windows, shrouded in dust, reflected nothing but the gray clouds above. It was as if the house itself was alive, waiting.

Inside, the air was cooler, the silence oppressive. His footsteps echoed through the vast, empty halls as he explored the space. It wasn’t long before he felt it...a presence, faint but undeniable. Shrugging off the unease, Maan dismissed it as fatigue from the journey. But the feeling lingered, growing stronger as the hours passed.

The next day, HE met HER.

She was standing by the edge of the forest, her figure illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Her saree fluttered gently in the breeze, and her hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. When she turned to face him, Maan felt the world tilt. Her eyes, deep and unyielding, held a sadness he couldn’t ignore, as if they carried the weight of countless unshed tears.

“You must be Maan Singh Khurana” she said softly, her voice like the whisper of leaves rustling in the wind.

He nodded, momentarily at a loss for words. There was something otherworldly about her, a quiet grace that set her apart from anything he had ever known.

“I’m Geet” she continued, offering a small, enigmatic smile. “I live nearby. I thought I’d welcome you… not many people stay here for long.”

Her words, though polite, carried a weight he couldn’t decipher. “Why’s that?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Her smile faltered, just for a moment. “This place has… stories. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

She turned to leave, but Maan couldn’t let her go so easily. “Do you believe in those stories?” he called after her.

Geet paused, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ve lived here long enough to know that every story has a grain of truth. Perhaps you’ll find yours, too.”

And with that, she disappeared into the forest, leaving Maan standing there with more questions than answers.

That night, as he lay in bed, her words echoed in his mind. The wind howled outside, and the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch and shift. Sleep came slowly, and when it did, it brought with it dreams he couldn’t understand - dreams of a woman crying by the edge of the forest, her voice calling his name, her silhouette fading into the mist.

Maan woke with a start, his heart pounding. The room was deathly silent, but the feeling of being watched had returned, stronger than ever. And somewhere, faint but unmistakable, he thought he heard it...a soft, sorrowful melody drifting through the night.

Geet’s voice. Or was it?

Maan rose from the bed, the unease gnawing at him. The manor seemed colder now, its vast emptiness closing in on him. He grabbed his flashlight and stepped into the corridor, his instincts sharp. The beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the cracked walls and peeling wallpaper. Everything was still...too still.

The sound came again, faint yet distinct, like a melody hummed by someone far away. It was hauntingly beautiful, filled with longing and sorrow. Maan’s feet moved before his mind could stop them, guiding him toward the source. The sound seemed to echo from the grand staircase that spiraled down into the heart of the manor.

As he descended, the air grew heavier, pressing against his chest. The song became clearer now, weaving itself into his senses, pulling him forward like an invisible thread. He reached the main hall, and his flashlight flickered. A chill ran down his spine.

“Is someone there?” he called out, his voice firm, masking the unease creeping in.

The melody stopped abruptly, plunging the room into silence. He scanned the area, his flashlight catching nothing but shadows. And then he saw it...just for a fleeting second...a figure standing by the large window at the far end of the hall.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, moving toward it.

The figure didn’t respond, but as he got closer, it became clearer - a woman draped in white, her back turned to him. Her presence was unsettlingly familiar, yet he couldn’t place it.

“Geet?” he called softly, his voice betraying his confusion.

The figure turned, but before he could make out her face, the flashlight flickered violently, and the room was plunged into darkness. When the light stabilized, she was gone.

His breath quickened as he stood there, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. Logic dictated that it was a trick of the mind, exhaustion playing games with him. But his gut told him otherwise.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the room, chasing away the shadows of the night. Determined to shake off the unease, Maan decided to explore the town. Perhaps there was more to this place than met the eye.

The town square was bustling with life, yet Maan couldn’t ignore the way people stole glances at him. Their hushed conversations stopped abruptly when he passed, and their guarded expressions made him feel like an outsider in every sense.

He spotted an elderly man sitting on a wooden bench, his weathered face creased with years of wisdom. Something about him seemed approachable.

Maan walked up to him, offering a polite nod. “Chacha Ji. I’m staying at the manor on the edge of town. Kuch puch sakta hu uske baare mein?”

The old man’s eyes darkened, and he shook his head gravely. “That house is cursed” he muttered, his voice low. “No one stays there for long.”

“Cursed?” Maan asked, his brow furrowing. “Why do people say that?”

The man hesitated, glancing around as if to ensure no one else was listening. “It’s not the house itself” he said after a moment. “It’s HER.”

Maan leaned in, his curiosity ignited. “Her? Who are you talking about?”

The old man sighed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The woman who lingers there. They say she’s been around for years, though no one knows where she came from or why she stays. Some claim she’s searching for something...or someone.”

A chill ran through Maan, but he kept his composure. “And you believe this?”

The man looked him straight in the eye, his expression grim. “Belief doesn’t matter, beta. What matters is that she’s there. And anyone who gets too close to her never leaves the same.”

Maan’s grip tightened on the bench, his mind flashing back to the figure in the hall, the melody, and Geet. He stood abruptly, nodding his thanks to the old man before walking away.

As he made his way back to the manor, his thoughts raced. Who was Geet? Why did the villagers seem to fear her? And what was it about this place that made it feel like he was unraveling a thread tied to something far greater than himself?

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire and ash, Maan stood at the edge of the forest where he had first met her. He waited, unsure of what he was looking for, but knowing that she would come.

And she did.

Geet emerged from the shadows, her presence as ethereal as ever. She smiled at him, the kind of smile that hid more than it revealed.

“You came back” she said, her voice soft, almost sad.

“I had questions” he replied, his gaze fixed on her. “And I think you’re the only one who can answer them.”

Geet tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Some answers are best left unknown, Maan.”

But he couldn’t leave it at that. “Who are you, Geet? What are you hiding?”

For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes reflecting a pain so profound it felt like a physical weight. Then she whispered, “I am exactly who you think I am, and yet… I am not. Do you really want to know the truth, Maan?”

His heart thundered in his chest. “I do.”

Her smile faltered, and her gaze turned toward the distant horizon. “Then prepare yourself, Maan Singh Khurana. Because the truth has a way of unraveling everything you hold dear.”

The wind picked up, carrying her words into the gathering night. And for the first time, Maan wondered if he was ready for the answers he so desperately sought.

CHAPTER 2

The night was restless. Maan tossed and turned, his mind tangled in the enigma that was Geet. Her words had clawed their way into his thoughts, refusing to let go. Who was she really? Why did her presence stir something deep within him - something that felt forgotten yet familiar ?

The wind outside roared, slamming against the old manor like a beast demanding entry. The air inside felt charged, humming with an energy that made his skin prickle. And then, just as he was drifting between the edges of sleep and wakefulness...he heard it.

The melody.

Low, sorrowful, weaving through the walls like a forgotten prayer. But this time, it wasn’t distant...it was near. Too near.

Maan shot up, his breath uneven, his pulse hammering against his ribs. The sound was coming from inside the manor. Inside his room.

His fingers instinctively reached for the flashlight, but before he could switch it on, the air around him shifted. A shadow flickered near the window...a presence barely visible in the dim moonlight. His breath hitched as he forced himself to look.

There SHE was.

Geet.

She stood with her back to him, her white saree flowing like liquid silk, her long hair swaying with an unseen breeze. But something was wrong. The very air around her shimmered, as though she wasn’t entirely there.

"Geet" he called, his voice tight.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t speak. She simply stood there, staring out at the darkened forest beyond the glass.

A chill coiled around his spine. "Geet" he tried again, this time firmer.

Slowly, too slowly, she turned.

His breath left him.

Her face - so hauntingly beautiful, so heartbreakingly sad - was streaked with something dark. Tears? No. Blood

Maan lurched forward, grabbing her shoulders. "What the hell is happening?" he demanded. "Why are you..."

Before he could finish, she vanished.

One blink, and she was gone.

The room fell into suffocating silence, as if nothing had happened. But Maan knew better. His skin was still cold where he had touched her. His heart still pounded from the weight of the unexplainable.

This was real.

Something was happening to him, to this place...to HER. And he was going to find out what.

~~

Morning arrived, but it brought no comfort. The manor’s walls felt even more suffocating, the light filtering through the windows cold and dull. Maan needed answers, and he knew exactly where to start.

The town.

He walked through the marketplace, his sharp gaze taking in the people who avoided looking at him. They knew something, and they weren’t saying it. But someone would crack.

He spotted an elderly woman sitting by a makeshift stall, stringing marigolds into garlands. Her frail hands trembled slightly, her cloudy eyes darting toward him before looking away.

Maan didn’t hesitate. He crouched down in front of her. "Geet Handa" he said, his voice steady. "Amma, tell me what you know about her"

The woman flinched. "No one speaks of her" she whispered.

"Why?"

She hesitated, then sighed, as if surrendering to a weight too heavy to carry. "Because she shouldn’t be here."

Maan’s body tensed. "What do you mean?"

The woman’s eyes, old and weary, met his. And in them, he saw a fear that ran deep. "Because, beta" she murmured, her voice barely audible, "Geet Handa died years ago"

.

.

Maan stared at the old woman, his mind refusing to accept what he had just heard.

Geet Handa died years ago...years ago...died...Geet

The words echoed through him, cold and sharp like a dagger twisting in his chest. His rational mind revolted against the absurdity of it. He had seen her, spoken to her, touched her. How could she be dead?

His jaw tightened. “That’s impossible.”

The woman shook her head, her gnarled fingers knotting into the garland she was making. “Not impossible. Just unbelievable.”

Maan exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the wooden counter between them. “Tell me everything.”

She hesitated, glancing around nervously as if the very air carried secrets. Finally, in a hushed voice, she began, “Geet Handa was the daughter of this town. Kind, innocent… and deeply loved. But fate wasn’t kind to her. One night, many years ago, she disappeared.”

Maan frowned. “Disappeared?”

The woman nodded. “No one knew what happened. Some say she ran away. Some say she was taken. And some…” Her voice wavered. “Some say she never left at all”

A shiver ran down Maan’s spine. “What do you mean?”

The old woman’s lips pressed together, her eyes dark with something ancient. “They say she still walks these lands, tied to something she cannot leave behind. Bound to the sorrow she once bore.”

Maan’s heart pounded. Bound to sorrow? He thought of her eyes - haunted, distant, longing. He thought of the melody in the night, her blood-streaked face, the way she vanished into thin air.

His breath came out slow and measured. “How did she die?”

The woman flinched, her gaze dropping to her trembling hands. “No one knows.”

Maan clenched his jaw. This wasn’t just a ghost story. There were holes in this tale, secrets buried too deep. And if there was one thing Maan Singh Khurana never did...it was let unanswered questions rest.

He turned away, his mind racing. If no one knew how Geet had died, then maybe… maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was trapped in something far worse than death.

And he was going to find out the truth.

~~

That night, the manor felt different.

The silence was heavier, pressing against the walls like an unseen force. Maan stood by the window, his fingers curling around the glass as he stared into the vast darkness beyond.

Would she come again?

He didn’t have to wait long.

A whisper of wind curled through the air, though the windows were shut. A familiar presence crept into the room, making his skin prickle. He turned...and she was there.

Geet stood in the center of the room, her gaze meeting his, as unreadable as the night sky.

“You went looking for answers” she murmured.

Maan crossed the distance between them, his pulse hammering. “And I found something.” His voice was steady, but his emotions swirled in chaos. “They say you died, Geet.”

A flicker crossed her face. Pain? Fear? Or something else entirely?

Maan stepped closer. “Tell me they’re wrong.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, her gaze softened...so full of sorrow, so inexplicably broken, that it made his chest ache.

Then, softly, she whispered, “Would it change anything if they weren’t?”

Maan felt the ground shift beneath him. His fists clenched, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

“Geet...”

But before he could finish, she lifted her hand… and placed it over his heart.

A coldness spread through him, sharp and piercing, seeping into his very soul. Images...fragments of something ancient, something forgotten...flashed before his eyes.

A bloodstained forest.
A pair of trembling hands.
A scream that tore through the night.
And her...falling, fading...vanishing into nothingness.

Maan gasped, stumbling back, his breath coming in ragged gulps. His hands flew to his chest, but the sensation was gone.

Geet stared at him, her eyes glistening. “I never wanted you to know” she whispered.

Maan took a step forward, his voice raw. “What… are you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. And then, in a voice so soft, so painfully broken, she whispered...

"The past you forgot… and the future you were never meant to have."

The room shattered into silence.

Maan stood there, his mind spinning, his heart clenching with a truth too terrifying to grasp.

Because deep down, he knew.

This wasn’t just a mystery.

This was fate itself unraveling.

CHAPTER 3

The night stretched endlessly, wrapping around Maan like a suffocating shroud. His mind was a storm...flashes of her touch, the visions, and her haunting words clawed at his sanity.

The past you forgot… and the future you were never meant to have

What did she mean?

He sat by the dying fireplace, the dim embers casting eerie shadows across the walls. His fists were clenched, his heartbeat refusing to settle.

She wasn’t real. She couldn’t be.

And yet, he had touched her. Felt the chill of her presence seep into his bones. Seen the sorrow in her eyes, a sorrow too deep to belong to the living.

The past you forgot… and the future you were never meant to have

The words gnawed at his soul. What was she trying to tell him?

With a frustrated sigh, he rose from the chair and reached for his coat. There had to be something...anything...that could explain this madness.

--

The town was deathly silent at this hour, the streets bathed in an unsettling silver glow from the moon. As he walked, he noticed how people avoided even mentioning Geet’s name. Fear clung to their voices, as if she were a forbidden secret no one dared awaken.

Determined, Maan made his way to the only place where the past still breathed...the town library. If Geet Handa had lived and died here, there had to be a record of it.

The air inside was thick with dust and forgotten stories. The elderly librarian regarded him warily as he approached.

“I need to see old records” Maan said, his voice leaving no room for refusal.

The librarian hesitated but eventually nodded. “What are you looking for?”

Maan exhaled. “Geet Handa.”

A visible shudder passed through the old man. His fingers trembled as he flipped through ancient ledgers before stopping at a page...yellowed, fragile. He slid the book toward Maan and stepped back, as if the very ink carried something cursed.

Maan’s eyes scanned the page, and his breath hitched.

Geet Handa.
Born: 1995.
Died: 2017.

He gripped the paper tightly. 2017… The year felt strangely significant, like something buried deep in his memory.

His gaze dropped lower...to the cause of death.

The space was blank.

No explanation. No accident report. No murder file. Nothing.

His pulse roared in his ears. How could someone’s death be erased from history?

"Why isn’t the cause of death recorded?" he demanded.

The librarian's expression was grim. "Because no one knows how she died."

Maan’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

The old man’s eyes darkened. "One night, she was just… gone. And the next morning, people whispered that they had seen her...standing at the edge of the forest, her white saree drenched in something dark. But when they searched for her body, there was nothing. No remains, no trace."

Maan’s fingers tightened over the pages. No body.

Then where had she gone?

Before he could press further, a gust of wind slammed the library doors open. The lanterns flickered wildly, and the temperature dropped in an instant.

And then....

A whisper

A voice so soft, so familiar, it sent an icy tremor down his spine.

"Maan..."

His head snapped up.

She was there.

Standing by the entrance, bathed in moonlight, her eyes locked onto his.

Geet.

But this time… something was different.

She wasn’t just sad.

She looked afraid.

Maan’s breath faltered.

Geet stood in the dim glow of the flickering lanterns, her white saree rippling as though caught in an unseen current. Her face...so hauntingly familiar...held something new this time. Fear.

The silence between them was thick, suffocating. He wanted to speak, to demand answers, but something in her eyes warned him - not yet.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Maan clenched his jaw. “You expect me to ignore the fact that...” He swallowed hard. “That you shouldn’t even exist?”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but it was sad, broken. “And yet, I do.”

He took a step closer, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. “Tell me the truth, Geet.” His voice was low, desperate. “What happened to you?”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not ready to know.”

“Then make me ready.”

She looked up, her eyes shimmering with something close to agony. And then...

The library shook.

The glass panes rattled, books tumbled from their shelves, and a cold wind howled through the room. Maan braced himself, his body coiled in instinctive defense.

A whisper curled through the chaos, slithering along the walls like an unseen serpent. “Leave. Leave before it’s too late.”

Maan turned sharply, scanning the library. No one else was there. Only him. Only Geet. And yet… the voice had not been hers.

When he looked back at her, she was trembling.

“Who else is here?” he asked slowly.

She exhaled shakily. “Not who. What.”

Maan felt a chill crawl down his spine. “Tell me.”

Geet hesitated before whispering, “The past is not just forgotten, Maan. It is buried. And if you keep digging…” Her voice broke. “…something else will rise.”

Before he could respond, the light snapped off.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

Then....a scream.

A sound so guttural, so inhuman, it ripped through the silence and sent Maan’s blood running cold.

It wasn’t Geet.

It was something else.

Something that had been waiting.

And now, it knew he was here.

--

The scream was not human.

It tore through the darkness, rattling the walls, shaking the ground beneath Maan’s feet. He reached for Geet, but the moment his fingers brushed her arm...

A vision exploded in his mind.

A different time. A different life.

He stood at the threshold of a grand haveli, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingering in the air. The place felt familiar, but his mind screamed that it was wrong.

Then...laughter.

He turned.

And there she was. Geet.

Not in the ghostly white saree, not with haunted eyes, but alive...radiant. Dressed in a deep red bridal lehenga, her eyes filled with mischief as she threw a handful of rose petals at him.

“You’re late, Khurana Ji.”

His breath caught. Khurana Ji?

“I....” His voice wavered. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

But then...a weight on his hand.

He looked down. A ring. A mangalsutra.

His chest tightened. This wasn’t just any memory. This was their wedding.

The truth struck him like lightning. Geet wasn’t just someone from the past.

She had been his wife.

--

Maan gasped, stumbling backward, his vision blurring as the library came back into focus. His breathing was ragged, his body drenched in cold sweat.

Geet was still in front of him, but her expression had changed.

She knew.

“You remember.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Maan pressed a hand to his temple, his head throbbing with the weight of realization. “We were… married?” His own words felt foreign, as if he were speaking about someone else’s life.

Geet nodded, her eyes glistening with something between relief and sorrow. “Yes.”

His chest ached. “Then how...” His voice broke. “How did you die?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to remember.”

Anger surged through him. “Why, Geet?” His voice was hoarse. “Why was I made to forget you?”

Before she could answer, the room shuddered again. The cold intensified, and an unseen force slammed Maan against the wall.

Geet let out a strangled cry. “No!”

Something dark was in the room.

Something angry.

Maan tried to move, but it was as if invisible hands pinned him down. The air thickened, turning suffocating, pressing against his chest.

And then....a voice.

Not Geet’s.

Not human.

"Some things are better forgotten, Maan Singh Khurana."

A sickening realization crept into his bones.

Someone didn’t want him to know the truth.

And whoever...or whatever...it was, would do anything to stop him.

reserved for chapter 4

just in case i plan to write more.

1

congrats for new story

suspense story

maan feels that some one is watching him him but invisible to him

maan experience scary night

old man from village share little scary things of manor

hope maan is safe with finding answer regarding manor n geet

Congrats on the SS!

Intriguing prologue.... awesomely written

looking forward to the story

Great start to an eerie story. Thank you! Yes, who or what is Geet? She is either a ghost or pretending to be one. Can’t wait to find out! I have no idea how people manage to stay in a large haunted mansion all on their own. It’s only fair that they should encounter ghosts... lol.

Prologue

Sounds very mysterious. Looks like there are buried secrets just waiting to come out.