At exactly 12 AM, Rohan was driving home along a deserted road surrounded by dark fields. There were no houses, streetlights, or other vehicles for miles.
Suddenly, he saw an old man standing in the middle of the road.
Rohan stopped.
The man slowly approached the window and whispered, “Please give me a lift. I need to go to the old bridge.”
Something about his voice made Rohan uncomfortable, but he unlocked the door.
The old man sat silently in the back seat.
After several minutes, Rohan looked into the rearview mirror.
The back seat was empty.
His heart began pounding.
Then a cold voice whispered directly beside his ear, “You passed the bridge.”
Rohan slammed the brakes.
When he looked outside, the old man was standing beside the car.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
Rohan immediately drove away.
A few minutes later, he reached a small village and stopped at a tea stall. Shaking, he told the owner what had happened.
The owner's face turned pale.
“That old man died twenty years ago,” he whispered. “He was killed on that road while waiting for someone to take him home.”
Rohan looked toward the road.
The old man was standing there again, smiling.
Then his phone rang.
The caller ID displayed Rohan's own number.
A whisper said, “You forgot to take me home.”

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