Ravi, 26, was considered as “the wise man with vision”—the type who wasn’t into young girls or bewitched with superficial beauty. What interested him were older, experienced women.
So when Ravi married Meera, 44, everyone was amazed.
She had once been a creative director who is elegant, confident, with a graceful charm. Her conversations were rich and attentive, and she seemed to know men better than they understood themselves. Just two months into dating, Ravi said yes to becoming her husband.
“Others loved 18-year-old girls. Me? I married someone 18 years older. And I have zero regrets!”
“She’s full-grown, she’s wise…”
“She knows me like no one else!”
Ravi proudly confirmed it at their wedding.
Wedding night.
The bedroom was exotic, softly lit with scented candles. Ravi, feeling worried and excited, transformed into his nightwear and waited on the bed.
Meera entered elegantly, wearing a long white silk nightgown. Her makeup was still beautiful, her curled hair fell like waves. She sat at the edge of the bed… smiled muted… and said nothing.
No touching. No talking. No movement.
Ravi cleared his throat:
“Um… would you like to talk first?”
She nodded slightly, still smiling, but said nothing.
Ravi thought, Maybe she wants me to take the lead…
Just as he was about to reach for her, she muttered:
“I’m tired. Let me sleep first.”
Then she turned to the wall and went silent.
3 a.m.
Ravi woke up, needing to use the restroom. He quietly fell off the bed and tiptoed toward the bathroom. As he passed the full-length mirror by the wardrobe, something attracted his eye—and left him sh0ck.
The white lace nightgown Meera had been wearing…
…was hanging neatly on a hook.
Ravi slowly turned his head to look at the bed.
Meera was still there—facing the wall, long hair draped over the pillow.
Her wedding ring still on her finger.
But if Meera was in the bathroom… then who was lying in that nightgown?
Just then, the light above fluttered.
The figure’s arm fell down the edge of the bed…abnormally light—like it was empty.
Ravi scared and hurried over.
He jerked the blanket off—
A full-sized silicone mannequin lay still.
Its face was bizarrely lifelike, still holding the same serene smile from earlier.
Its left arm, connected by a sticky hook, had disjoined and suspended roughly.
Ravi shrieked:
“WHAT IS THIS?! MEERA?!”
The bathroom door creaked open.
Meera stepped out—makeup removed, hair tied in a bun, completely calm.
“Oh… you’re up?” she asked gently.
“I don’t usually sleep next to strangers on the first night… so I let my ‘little sister’ take my place.”
“Wasn’t she sweet? Didn’t argue, didn’t ask for anything…”
Ravi asked surprisingly:
“T-that… that thing… is fake?!”
Meera said:
“You said you loved experienced women… so you’ll have to get used to some… creative sleeping arrangements.”
From that night on, Ravi had a new midnight panic:
“My wife might be in the bathroom…but the one sleeping next to me?
I’m no longer sure she’s real.”