The Whispering Wall

The house was always quiet at night, but lately the silence felt wrong—too heavy, too aware.

Riya first noticed it when she began hearing a soft, steady breathing coming from inside

the walls. At first she blamed the wind or the old pipes, but the sound was

too human. Slow inhale. Slow exhale. Like someone trying to match her own

rhythm. She pressed her ear to the wall one night, telling herself

she was being stupid, and nearly jumped when the breathing paused—exactly as she did.

Over the next few nights, the sound grew bolder. Sometimes it whispered her name,

dragging it out in a voice that wasn’t quite male or female. Sometimes it giggled.