Akash lives alone in his flat. Suddenly, at two o'clock in the morning, the landline in his studio started ringing. The line had been disconnected long ago, so there was no reason for the phone to ring. Yet, it kept ringing relentlessly. Trembling with fear, Akash picked up the receiver. There was no human voice on the other end, only the sound of heavy sighs and the voice of his grandmother, who had passed away years ago—"Open the darkroom in the studio and look inside."
Shaking, Akash walked toward the darkroom. There was no one there, but an old lamp kept on the table was glowing on its own. By its light, he saw a new door on the wall at the back of the darkroom—a door that had never been there before. It was slightly ajar, and the sound of weeping was coming from within. As soon as Akash opened the door fully, he saw himself lying inside, his body slowly turning gray and fading like a photographic negative. Then, suddenly, everything went silent—the room slammed shut. The landline rang again, but this time, the voice on the other end didn't say, "Open the darkroom." Instead, it whispered, "Why did you enter the room and trap me?"