Anjali is an office worker in Gurugram, living alone in a high-rise apartment. Her life, like everyone else’s, is peaceful.

That evening, Anjali finished work late. When it struck 9 o’clock, she entered the elevator. There was only one person in the elevator—Mr. Sharma, her neighbor on the floor below. He was in his seventies, thin, with cloudy eyes, and a quiet demeanor, and the children in the apartment building often teased him by calling him “old man.”

The elevator door had just closed when he suddenly reached out to press the emergency stop button. The red light was flashing.

Anjali panicked:
“What are you doing?”

Mr. Sharma turned, his eyes blurry, but urgent:
“Don’t go home! You… run!”

Anjali was stunned, her heart pounding. “What did you say? Is something wrong with my house?”

Mr. Sharma trembled, his voice almost a whisper:
“I heard strange noises beneath your door… not human noises… trust me, don’t go home.”

Anjali laughed awkwardly. The neighbors were still saying she was hallucinating. But before her smile could fade, Mr. Sharma held her hand tightly, his voice a whisper:
“Trust me! Your life is in danger!”

Door of a Stranger’s Apartment

The elevator shook loudly and continued moving. The door opened on Anjali’s floor. Mr. Sharma was still shaking his head, his words coming out repeatedly:
“Don’t go in… don’t go in…”

Anjali walked out, disheartened. But when she stood in front of the door, she trembled slightly: beneath the crack, a faint blue light flickered as if someone was moving inside. But it was clear she lived alone.

At that very moment, the door to the apartment opposite opened. Mrs. Patel, an elderly neighbor, poked her head out:
“Anjali, are you back? Come in, it’s cold outside.”

Her voice was familiar, her eyes kind. Anjali felt more secure. She opened the door.

Click! The door opened. It was dark inside, no blue light. Anjali turned on the light; everything was still fine. She breathed a sigh of relief and put down her bag. But then, when she turned to close the door, she was stunned: on the shelf lay a pair of strange leather shoes, clearly not hers.

Shadows in the Bedroom

Anjali broke into a cold sweat. Before leaving for work, she remembered well that the house was empty. Whose shoes were these?

Suddenly, there was the sound of a chair being pulled out of the bedroom, “Creak…creak…” Anjali shuddered and picked up her phone, intending to call the police. But as the screen lit up, an unread message appeared:

“Don’t come home.”

From: Unknown number.
Time: 8:57 pm – right when she was in the elevator.

The bedroom door creaked. A tall, fierce-faced man stepped out. He held a shiny knife in his hand.

“You’re finally home…” – he laughed. Anjali screamed and ran for the door. But the security lock had been locked for a while, and it couldn’t be opened. He went closer.

Two words: Save my life.

At that very moment, the main door was suddenly kicked open. Mr. Sharma and the apartment building’s two security guards rushed in. Before they could react, they were knocked down and captured.

Anjali burst into tears. It turned out that, as soon as they got out of the elevator, Mr. Sharma called security to report seeing a black man enter Anjali’s apartment. He was a retired police officer with weak eyes and ears, but his instincts were never wrong.

The stranger was arrested, and he turned out to be a criminal wanted for armed robbery, who had chosen Anjali’s apartment as a hideout. If she had returned later, he would have left. But she returned just in time, and found herself a target.

A Warning

After that horrific night, Anjali came to thank Mr. Sharma. The old, trembling man suddenly became a benefactor. But when she took his hand, he simply shook his head:

“I did what I had to do. Remember, sometimes people think I’m crazy… but death is never a joke.”

Anjali was silent, tears welling up in her eyes. That night in the elevator, he saved her life with two words: “Don’t come back.”

Part 2: From “Old Man” to Silent Hero
The Next Day – News Spreads

After that fateful night, the story of Anjali’s near-death and her rescue by Mr. Sharma and the security guard quickly spread throughout the apartment.

Before, Mr. Sharma was remembered simply as “Old Man”: weak-sighted, hard-of-hearing, and often muttering to himself in the hallway. Children often made fun of him, and many adults looked at him with pity, sometimes annoyance.

But this time, when everyone heard that he—the old man—was the one who had warned Anjali, called the security guard, and was directly involved in stopping the killer, the entire building was stunned.

Respect replaced ridicule.

Those who used to look down on Mr. Sharma began to change their way of speaking to him. Instead of laughing at the “madman,” there was a respectful call:

“Sharma ji, are you okay? Thank you for saving that girl’s life.”

Children, who previously hid their slippers or imitated his slow gait, now ran to greet him with folded hands:

“Hello, Sharma Uncle!”

Anjali herself had told him many times at resident meetings:

“If it weren’t for him that day, I probably wouldn’t be standing here. We are grateful to him.”

The Apartment Management Board intervened

The building management invited Mr. Sharma to the weekend resident meeting. In front of hundreds of residents, the manager took the microphone:

“Sharma ji used to be a policeman. Yesterday, despite his advancing age and frailty, he performed his duty to save others’ lives. Let’s give him a round of applause.”

The entire hall erupted in applause. Mr. Sharma was embarrassed, his blurred eyes filling with tears.

A young resident suggested:
“We should add Mr. Sharma to the building’s volunteer security team. His experience and intuition are more valuable than we thought.”

Everyone agreed.

Another “old man” in society’s eyes

Since that day, whenever Mr. Sharma passed by, the hallways were no longer filled with uproarious laughter. Instead, people often stopped and asked:
“Have you eaten?”
“Do you need medicine?”

Even young families, who once worried that their children would be “upset” with him, now let their children visit him and ask him to tell stories about his workday. The children listened spellbound, unable to take their eyes off him.

Anjali and the Promise

One afternoon, Anjali arrived at Mr. Sharma’s small apartment with a basket of fruit. She took his hand and whispered:
“Before, I thought you were strange too. But now, I promise I’ll be your granddaughter, someone you can trust. I’ll visit you often.”

Mr. Sharma smiled slightly, placing his trembling hand on Anjali’s: “I just hope everyone doesn’t consider me a burden anymore. I’m old, I don’t have the strength anymore, but my heart still knows how to care for others.”