Rohan was in his mid-thirties. He lived alone in his apartment for one week.

The nights were too quiet.

One night, at 2 AM, he woke up hungry.

He searched the fridge — empty. He opened the shelves — nothing.

At last, he found one yellow packet of Maggi.

Happy, he started cooking. The smell filled the kitchen.

He poured it onto a plate and sat at the table.

Then… he froze.

Across the table, another man was sitting.

That man was himself.

Same face. Same clothes. Same tired eyes.

And that man was eating Maggi.

Rohan whispered, “Who are you?”

The other Rohan didn’t answer.

He just kept eating.

When he finished, he stood up slowly, looked at him once, and said in a low voice:

“You are late. I was hungry.”

Then he walked to the bedroom and disappeared.

Rohan sat there shaking.

He thought it was a dream.

But in the morning, he saw the dirty plate still on the table.

He told his friend Amit about it.

Amit laughed loudly.

“Bro, stop watching horror movies at night. You’re scaring yourself.”

Rohan tried to laugh too, but his stomach felt tight.

Three nights later, it happened again.

Rohan boiled water, broke the noodles, added masala.

Just as he turned off the stove—

He turned.

The other Rohan was already there, sitting at the table.

This time, the other one looked straight at him.

His lips were red with masala.

Rohan asked, his voice shaking, “Why… why are you here?”

The other Rohan smiled.

His teeth glistened.

“I eat when you don’t. I live when you don’t. You left me here.”

“Now… I am hungry again.”

Rohan dropped the plate from his hand.

It crashed on the floor.

But when he looked up, the other Rohan was gone.

The kitchen was empty.

Only the smell of hot Maggi remained.

In the morning, there were two dirty plates in the sink.

Since that night, Rohan never bought Maggi again.

But sometimes, very late, when the house is quiet,