The glass room

 



The Glass Room

Psychological Thriller | Karachi Noir

By Faraz Parvez
Professor Dr. (Retired) Arshad Afzal
Retired Faculty Member, Umm Al-Qura University, Makkah, KSA
(Pseudonym of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal)


“There are two kinds of silences: the peaceful one, and the kind that watches you.”

After retiring early from a decades-long career in forensic psychology, Dr. Irtiza Arif moved into Qasr-e-Tasneem Towers, an upscale yet oddly quiet apartment complex near Clifton’s sea breeze zone. The building was the kind that drew in Karachi’s elite—lawyers, surgeons, artists—but all shared one thing: they didn’t talk much.

Irtiza thought retirement would be peaceful. Instead, it became a descent into uncertainty, paranoia, and self-doubt.


I. The Woman with the Velvet Voice

On his second night, he met Maham Mirza, a woman in her 40s with the poise of someone who had seen everything. She curated art shows and hosted elegant, wordless dinners with neighbors who avoided eye contact. Over chai one evening, she said:

“Don’t walk the corridor after midnight. The glass… reflects more than your face.”

She laughed, but her hands trembled. And Irtiza, a man trained to read people, noticed.


II. Journal of the Unseen

At 12:07 AM that night, Dr. Irtiza couldn’t sleep. His old habit kicked in—observation, notation. He started a journal to document small anomalies:

  • Missing voices in elevator CCTV.
  • A child crying in the vents.
  • His door slightly ajar despite being locked.

Then came the entry dated a week ahead, written in his own handwriting:

“She was right. The glass remembers.”

Irtiza hadn’t written it. Or had he?


III. Surveillance and Shadows

He started noticing things—his kettle boiling without being turned on, Maham crying in her flat but denying it the next day, and a man who looked like him, walking the corridor, reflected in the glass walls.

Worse still, footage of that night showed nothing. No reflection. No movement.

Only silence.

Maham finally confessed:

“You once treated a prisoner named Azeem Jalali, didn’t you? The one with mirror psychosis?”

Yes. Azeem believed mirrors could steal identity. He vanished after his release.

But Maham knew more:

“This building was his. He bought it. He lives inside the walls.”


IV. The Doctor Becomes the Patient

The deeper Irtiza went, the more disconnected he became from time. His old patient files were deleted from his laptop. Maham stopped answering her door. He called the police. They had no record of her living there.

One morning, he found a letter under his door.

"Welcome back, Doctor. Ready for another session?"
– AJ


V. The Final Entry

The journal ends abruptly.

The last line reads:

“I am not sure who I am anymore. Am I Irtiza… or am I the ghost he created?”

The apartment now lies vacant. The new tenant? A young woman named Maham Mirza. The same name.

And she’s already hearing footsteps in the hallway.


🕯️ Weekend Reflections:

In a world where digital surveillance, mental trauma, and identity are constantly manipulated, “The Glass Room” holds a mirror to how fragile sanity can be. When the mind begins to question what is real, even the most rational men can become prisoners of their own reflections.


🖋️ Enjoyed the story? Share it with those who enjoy psychological thrillers rooted in South Asian noir.
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By Faraz Parvez
Professor Dr. (Retired) Arshad Afzal
Retired Faculty Member, Umm Al-Qura University, Makkah, KSA
(Pseudonym of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal)



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