The Woman in the Window Across
🕯️ Introduction
It was just a woman across the street.
She always appeared in the window around 11 p.m., standing behind pale curtains, sometimes waving, sometimes just staring. I live on the 6th floor of a residential block in Pune, and her building faces mine, only a few meters away.
At first, I thought she was just a night owl like me. But after two weeks of nightly waves — never missing a day — I began to feel something was… off.
Because no one else ever seemed to see her.
🪞 She Never Blinked
I started noticing that she never moved much. Her head would tilt slightly, her hand would wave, and then… nothing.
She would stand there, frozen, for minutes — sometimes an hour — as if paused in time.
One night I waved back.
She tilted her head further and smiled.
A small, stretched, unblinking smile.
🕳️ The Building Manager’s Answer
Curious (and admittedly spooked), I went to the building across to ask about her. The security guard was confused when I described the flat.
“Sir, that flat has been locked for almost a year now. No one inside.”
I insisted I saw someone every night. He allowed me to check the records — the flat had been vacant since the death of the previous tenant: an elderly woman named Mrs. D’Souza, who had lived there alone for decades.
She died in that very room.
🩸 I Took a Photo
The next night, I waited with my phone.
11:04 p.m. — she appeared again. Just as always. Pale curtains. Long hair. Staring.
I took a photo.
The moment the flash blinked — she disappeared.
Gone in an instant. Curtains still fluttering like someone had just moved behind them. But no one was there.
When I looked at the photo, she wasn’t in it. But my window reflection was — and behind me, in my own apartment…
a faint shape was standing.
🕷️ Conclusion: She Still Watches
Since that night, I’ve kept my curtains closed.
I haven’t looked across the street in weeks. But sometimes — when I forget — I catch something in my peripheral vision.
The same still figure. Same smile.
And now, I don’t know which side of the window she’s on anymore.
