Rain whispered secrets on the tin roof of a half-dead railway station.

  ACP Aarav Reddy adjusted the collar of his long coat and stepped onto the deserted platform. Rust flaked from signs. Fog snaked between the tracks. Whispers of "haunted train" echoed through local legends. People disappeared here. Ghost sightings, unexplained screams, shadows with no source.

  But Aarav didn't believe in ghosts. He believed in lies dressed as legends.

  He crouched near the edge of the platform. Tire tracks. Not train tracks—rubber. Recently made. His gloved fingers brushed over fresh footprints, far too precise for random visitors.

  He tapped his IR-activated specs. In the ghostly mist ahead, two heat signatures flickered—crouched low, making hand signals.

  Aarav (into comms):"Alpha Team, prepare to intercept at Checkpoint K. Confirm Code Phantom. We're going in."

  The haunted train had returned tonight. And so had he.

  Two years ago, Aarav chased a similar case. Same train line. Same fog. But that time, the train vanished—with four passengers, including a young woman. Only a ripped doll was found near the tracks. The media storm, the CM's pressure, the boy who cried at his feet begging for his mother back… Aarav never found her. The only case he'd truly lost.

  Tonight, he wouldn't.

  The train rolled in, wailing like a mechanical ghost. Its doors creaked open.

  Aarav boarded alone.

  Inside, the air was cold and heavy. Seats were torn, curtains fluttered unnaturally despite no breeze. In the corner of the compartment, an old man with a newspaper sat facing the window.

  Aarav took the seat opposite, unbothered.The man's eyes finally met his.Old Man (smiling, monotone):

  "The dead don't like delays."

  Aarav (coldly):

  "They'll hate what comes next."

  The lights snapped off. Silence. Then a whisper. Then… breathing.

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  When they flickered back on, the old man was gone.

  In his place sat a woman—skin pale, lips smeared red, wearing a torn bridal saree. Her head jerked slightly, unnaturally, and her grin widened slowly… painfully.

  Ghost Woman (whispering):"He told me I'd be safe... like you did.But now I wear my smile… until I forget how to scream."

  Aarav blinked once.

  Aarav (low, chilling):"Checkmate"

  The train screeched to a halt. Smoke exploded from vents. Shadows moved in the fog—but this time, they weren't ghosts. Team Alpha breached the compartments with military precision.

  THUD THUD THUD — boots hit the steel floors.CLICK — triggers pulled back.SHOUTS — "CLEAR LEFT! MOVE!"

  A muffled gasp escaped a gagged woman. Another sobbed as she was untied, her wrists raw from rope burns. The air in the storage car reeked of ammonia, diesel, and mold.

  Officer Viraaj (tech expert):"Movement in storage car. Heat sigs confirmed. They're packed in like cargo."

  False seat panels were torn off. Behind them—crates of drugs, counterfeit IDs, and five unconscious women.

  And one child.

  A boy, barely eight, hidden beneath a rug, eyes wide with terror. He flinched at the light.

  Officer: "We've got a minor!"

  The boy was pulled gently out. He clutched a school ID tag, stained and bent. When he saw Aarav, recognition lit his face.

  Boy (softly):"I saw you… on the TV. You saved my papa... Please don't let them take me again…"

  Aarav knelt beside him.

  Aarav (firm but kind):"You're safe now. No one's taking you again."

  Behind him, Viraaj murmured while scanning recovered tech:

  Viraaj (skeptical):"So the 'ghost train' was a moving smuggler's den? Clever. They built the legend, faked the fear. Who'd inspect a haunted train?"

  Aarav (grimly):"Ghosts don't smuggle women and heroin. Monsters do."

  Later that night, Aarav returned to his office.

  The storm outside hammered the windows. He walked in, paused. His glass of water was moved slightly, and the window… unlocked.

  He turned. A rock smashed through the glass, landing on his desk. Attached: a pendrive.

  No note. Just dread.

  He inserted it.

  Static. Then the screen lit up with flickering video. A man stood in a dark room, wearing a porcelain white mask carved into a sickening smile.

  Smiling Man:"Smile if you're guilty.Some puzzles open minds…Others open coffins."

  A curtain fell behind him.

  There she was.The missing Bollywood star.

  She was tied to a chair, eyes hollow, lips stretched in a smile she clearly didn't want to wear. Tears flowed, her body shaking, smile twitching on command. It was as if joy and despair were trapped in a silent war on her face.

  Smiling Man:"She smiled for the world. Now she'll smile forever...unless you do better this time, Detective."

  He leaned in. Cold eyes behind the mask.The tone dropped to a whisper:

  Smiling Man:"Let's see if you can crack a real haunting…Before the next one cracks you."

  The screen cut to black.

  Aarav sat frozen, the ghost of a memory crawling over his spine.

  Same station. Same timing.Same man.Only now… the stakes were smiling back.

  Did the twist hit you?

  What did you think of Aarav Reddy's entrance? And that Smiling Man—chilling or what? ??

  superstition and strategy, hauntings and human horror. Every chapter will peel back a new layer of the case… and of Aarav himself.

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