Chapter 1: The Silence After the Storm
Advik moved into the old house at the edge of town with only two things: a suitcase of clothes and a story he swore he would never tell.

It had been a year since Mira died.

Everyone had a different version of what happened: accident, suicide, overdose. But none of those matched the truth that lived like a parasite in Advik’s chest. He had written her into existence. Or at least… that’s what it felt like.

And when he stopped writing, she disappeared.

So he stopped altogether. No books, no stories, no notebooks. He deleted his Scrivener, burned his journals, and swore to never touch a pen again.

But pain has a funny way of resurrecting the very things you bury.

One night, a storm cracked open the sky. Lightning cut through his window like a scream, and thunder shook the floor beneath him. With the electricity gone and his phone dead, Advik found himself face-to-face with the thing he feared most.

A blank page.

It called to him from a drawer he hadn’t opened since moving in. There it was: a crisp, untouched notebook with a black leather cover. Mira had gifted it to him the week before her death.

He opened it.

And before he knew what was happening, he wrote:

“The girl in the mirror doesn’t blink when you do. She waits. Watches. And when you’re not looking… she writes.”

He didn’t remember writing it.

But the words were there.

And they had his handwriting.

Chapter 2: Mira 2.0
The next morning, Advik made coffee with shaking hands. He told himself it was just sleep deprivation. The storm had messed with his head. That’s all.

But then his laptop buzzed.

He hadn’t touched it in months.

The screen flickered to life, and there it was—a document titled: Mira2.0.docx

He hovered over it.

Opened it.

It contained only one line:

"You killed me once. Let’s try again."

He slammed the lid shut.

“This isn’t real,” he muttered.

But his heart didn’t believe it.

Later that evening, he checked the hallway mirror. Not because he wanted to. Because he felt watched. That uncanny weight on the back of his neck. He looked.

And there she was.

Not Mira. But something that wore her face.

She smiled.

And the mirror cracked.

Chapter 3: The Writer’s Curse
Advik started writing again.

Not by choice.

He woke up with ink stains on his fingers. Pages appeared next to his bed—written in his style, with his signature, but things he couldn’t remember drafting. Conversations Mira never said, places they never visited, arguments they never had.

And always, always ending with her voice:

“Finish the story, Advik.”

At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Sleepwriting. Losing it.

So he installed cameras.

He set them up to record him every night.

The next morning, the footage showed him sitting at the desk, wide awake, typing rapidly.

But his face… wasn’t his.

It was smiling. Not the smile of someone creating.

The smile of something possessing.

Chapter 4: Reality, Unwritten
The deeper he wrote, the more the world shifted. Street names changed. His neighbor—old Mrs. Kaveri—suddenly vanished one morning, and in her place was a young woman who claimed to have lived there for three years.

Advik knew that wasn’t true.

But when he checked the records online—there she was. Listed. Documented.

Like he was the one who forgot.

His old journals began rewriting themselves. Crossed-out lines uncrossed. Sentences he remembered deleting reappeared in red ink.

Mira was rebuilding her story.

And she was changing the ending.

He went to the police. They found nothing.

“Maybe you just need to rest,” they said. “Maybe you’ve been writing too much.”

He laughed bitterly. He hadn’t written a word on his own in weeks.

Everything was being written through him.

Chapter 5: The Mirror Test
Advik decided to test the boundaries.

He sat at the mirror one night and asked out loud:

“If you’re real… write something only you would say.”

The mirror fogged over slowly. And then, word by word, the message appeared:

“You didn’t just write me, Advik. You loved me. And when the story turned dark, you chose to end it.”

He staggered back.

The last story he wrote—the one before Mira died—did end in a death. He hadn’t meant it to be symbolic. It was just fiction… right?

But what if…?

What if Mira believed her entire existence depended on being written?

And when he ended her story, she ended her life?

Chapter 6: The Final Draft
He couldn’t let it happen again.

He needed to finish the story—give her peace. Or maybe… let her go.

He sat at his desk and opened a new document.

Title: Mira's Goodbye

He wrote like a man on fire.

Pages bled out of him. Their first meeting. Her broken childhood. Her fears. Her love. Their pain. The arguments. The silences. The night she stood on the edge.

And then—

He rewrote the ending.

"Mira looked at the sky, the stars flickering like tiny bruises. She turned around—not toward the void, but toward the light. She chose to stay. To heal. To live."

As he finished the last word, the lights flickered.

A breeze passed through the room.

And a voice—her voice—softly whispered:

“Thank you.”

The mirror no longer showed her face.

Just his.

Alone. Alive. Free.