“Just refreshed,” he said. “Sometimes you need a clean slate to see what’s really there.”

And from that day on, he never hit refresh without wondering what else might reload—besides the page.

Arjun’s throat went dry. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but he believed in deadlines. He clicked it open.

“If you’re reading this, you hit F5 at 2:17 PM on Oct 12. Don’t send the report. The CEO’s email has been hacked. Call IT first.”

Instead, he pressed —the hard refresh. Clear the cache. Wipe the illusion.

His office door burst open. Maya from IT ran in. “Don’t open any files from the CEO! His account’s compromised. How did you know?”

Arjun stared at his screen, his reflection a ghost in the blue glow. The quarterly report was due in an hour, and the spreadsheet had frozen for the third time. Numbers were stuck mid-calculation, the little spinning wheel mocking him.