Chapter 1
Silence.
Silence.
Pure silence.
The kind that presses against your eardrums. The kind that feels like the world is holding its breath.
Location? Deserted.
Light?Not a chance. Midnight, bro.
Then?
Wait... wait... wait...
Countdown begins—3...2...1...
BOOOOOOOM.
The emptiness shattered. Not of things—there was plenty of that.
But of people. No soul in sight.
Now? The ground was ablaze. Red. Orange. Blue. Flames danced like possessed spirits, licking the air, devouring the silence.
And just two meters from the inferno—A figure.
Draped in black.
Black hoodie. Black jeans. Black mask. Arms folded across the chest.
A smirk. Not visible. But felt. Like the fire was in on the joke.
Like it was grinning too.
Next Morning - 8 A.M.-
Arohini stood at her dresser, fingers flying as she tied her hair into a ponytail. Her gaze? Fixed.
Not on her face—on her eyes. Calm. Cold. Calculated. Like she was reciting a silent mantra only she could hear.
White tank top. Blue-and-white striped shirt—unbuttoned, sleeves rolled. Baggy blue jeans hugging her frame like they belonged there.
Kohl. Lipstick—nude pink. Minimal. Effortless. Yet bold in its own quiet rebellion.
She slung her peach bag over one shoulder. One last glance. Expression unreadable. And then—she walked out.
Lift. Silence. Doors slid open. Emotion? Gone.
She stepped outside. Approached her car. Reached for the door—
Two soft palms covered her eyes.
Arohini froze. Then smiled.
“Samriddhi,” she whispered, voice bubbling with joy.
The girl behind giggled, spun her around, hands dropping. Two smiles bloomed—Arohini’s radiant. Samriddhi’s toothy and mischievous.
They hugged like time hadn’t passed. Like nothing had changed.
“Devi ji, kaise darshan diye?” Arohini teased, eyes twinkling.
“Bas man hua... aa gayi,” Samriddhi shrugged, casual as ever.
“Oh please! Jab lawyer-giri se fursat mile tab na darshan dena,” Arohini narrowed her eyes.
“Jaise tu roz milti hai,” Samriddhi retorted, arms crossed. “Software engineers bhi no-life hote hain, but I’m busier than you. Still, I show up. Tum? Ek mahine mein ek baar bhi mil jaaye toh badi baat.”
Arohini scoffed, flipping her hair. “Okay fine, maan liya. But that ‘ek din’ line? Pls don't dramatize.. Last month we met five times, Miss Exaggeration.”
Samriddhi raised a brow. That best-friend look. The one that said, Really?
She glanced at the car. “Kahaan ja rahi hai?”
“Narak,” Arohini deadpanned. “Chalogi?”
“Ghanta narak!” Samriddhi laughed. “AC cabin, coffee, comfy chair—yeh tera narak hai? Fine. If that’s hell, take me there.”
Arohini chuckled. “Chhodo yaar. Tum kahaan ja rahi ho?”
Samriddhi pointed upward. “Upar.”
“Hain??” Arohini blinked.
“Yahin. Building ke upar.”
Arohini frowned. “Sorry yaar, I really have to go.”
Samriddhi rolled her eyes. “Relax. Tere apartment mein nahi jaa rahi.Aur karungi bhi kya?”
She paused. Grinned.
“Maine bhi yahaan ek apartment le liya hai.”
Arohini turned, stunned. “Kya?!”
“Kal hi liya. Samaan shift ho raha hai.” Then, with a sparkle— “Guess what? Tere saamne waala hai.”
Arohini gasped. “Ooooo...”
She stepped toward her car. “I’m really getting late.”
Samriddhi nodded. Arohini slid into the driver’s seat.
...
Half an hour later, her car glided to a halt in front of Kryptence Technologies—a monolith of glass and steel that sliced through the skyline like a blade. Its mirror-finished windows caught the morning sun, scattering light like shards of brilliance.
Arohini stepped out, adjusting the strap of her peach bag. Her gaze flicked upward, just for a second.Then she walked toward the entrance.
The sliding doors hissed open at her approach. Inside, the air was cool, crisp—filtered ambition.Familiar faces passed her by. Some smiled politely. Others nodded, respectful but distant.
She didn’t slow.Straight to the elevator.A tap on the panel.The lift whooshed open.
She entered alone. Watched the numbers blink past—10... 11... 12...13.
The doors parted.
She stepped out onto polished marble, turned right, and entered her cabin—minimalist, pristine, tucked into a corner with a panoramic view of the city. The chair welcomed her with a soft creak. The hum of the AC whispered in the background. Beyond the glass walls, the office buzzed faintly—like a distant hive.
Her work computer sat untouched. Files stacked neatly beside it. But she reached for her personal laptop instead.
It opened with a click. Her fingers flew. Lines of code spilled across the screen—fluid, sharp, surgical. Her brows furrowed. Eyes locked. Focused.
Ping.
A message blinked onto the screen.
“We need to talk. Now.”
No name. No ID. Just five words.
The cursor blinked. Waiting.
She smiled.
Her fingers hovered, then typed:
“Who are you mister?”
Another message popped up:
“Is this how you talk to your senior?”
She smirked.
“Sorry, but I don’t know you, mister! 😉 No ID, no number—how am I supposed to guess?”
The reply came fast.
“Be serious, Raven.”
Her smile faded slightly. Tone shift. She sensed it.
“Is it urgent?”
“Do you think I’d message like this if it wasn’t?”
She leaned back, one brow raised.
“What is it?”
A beat.
Then—
“Have you lost your mind after yesterday’s blast? Did it fry a nerve or two? You want to talk about serious stuff—on a phone?”
She chuckled, fingers dancing again.
“Sad to say, the blast didn’t touch me. But your age? Clearly doing a number. You’re calling me something you shouldn’t—digitally. What if someone hacks this?”
“No one can hack your phone or laptop. Not ours. You forget, miss.”
“Then you lose, Mister 45. If no one can hack, why worry? Say it now, or don’t. Because getting out of here isn’t easy.”
She paused.Then typed again.
“Yahan ki CEO—pata nahi kya lagav hai mujhse—nazrein mujhpe hi rehti hain.Kaise bolun unse—‘Madam ji, mujhe aap chhutti de dijie. Aap paise bhejte rahiye, main ghar se kaam kar lungi.’Kyunki mere dusre boss apni hi dhun mein rehte hain.Do-do logon ke liye kaam karo, aur piso baith ke. If it’s really urgent, then call me. Otherwise, let me breathe.”
The reply came, dry and sharp.
“Stop being dramatic, Arohini. If you’re free, come here. One hour.”
She closed the laptop. Stood. No words.Just motion.
As she exited her cabin, a colleague stepped in front of her.
“Arohini, boss is calling you in her office.”
She hummed in acknowledgment and moved towards the lift.
Pressed the button to the 17th floor.
The lift began its silent ascent.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. Arohini stepped out and walked toward the cabin at the far end of the hallway—sleek, imposing, and bathed in morning light.
She paused at the door. Knocked once.
“Come in,” came a poised, feminine voice.
She entered.
Behind the grand mahogany desk sat a woman in her mid-thirties. Hair in a neat bun. Minimal makeup. Sharp-cut blazer.
Her aura?Intimidating. Not loud—just quietly powerful.
“Sit, Arohini,” she said, gesturing to the chair.
Arohini smiled politely and sat.
This was Sudha Chakrawarti—CEO of Kryptence Technologies. Her smile was subtle. But it held weight.
“Miss Arohini Rajput,” she began, voice smooth but edged with command, “you’re exceptional. Punctual. Efficient. Your work in ethical hacking and cybersecurity has been... impressive.”
Arohini nodded, smile steady.
“You’ve handled immense responsibility. But I’ve been thinking—”Sudha’s fingers interlaced.“—it’s time to promote you.”
Arohini’s smile faltered. Just a flicker.Still composed.But inside?
“Phle hi ye post mili hai, ab aur upar? He Krishna... aur kya sambhalun?”
She blinked slowly. Still smiling.
Sudha’s tone shifted.
“But...”Her eyes narrowed.
Arohini straightened. Here it comes.
“I’ve heard whispers. Office gossip.”She paused. “And I’ve noticed it myself.”
Sudha leaned back, arms folded.
“You disappear during office hours.”
Arohini’s brows lifted slightly.No words.
“I don’t micromanage,” Sudha continued, “but when someone with your access vanishes mid-day... it becomes a matter of interest.”
She tilted her head.
“Can I know the reason behind your unusual disappearances, Miss Rajput?”
Silence.
The hum of the AC. The distant clatter of keyboards. And Arohini—still calm.
She spoke, voice low and measured.
“With due respect, ma’am... my work has never been delayed. If I step out, it’s always balanced—either before or after.”
She smiled politely.
“As long as Kryptence isn’t suffering, I didn’t think twenty minutes would be... unusual.”
Sudha’s lips twitched.
“Touche. But I’d still like to know where you go.”
That did it.
Arohini’s smile sharpened. Not rude. Not submissive.
She leaned forward.
“If this is about the promotion... I’m fine staying where I am.”
Sudha arched a brow.Then smiled—tight, knowing.
“Very well, Miss Rajput.”She flipped open a file.“But don’t forget—everything is monitored.”
Arohini stood, adjusted her bag.Face blank.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to leave.But then—her mind clicked.
Khuraphati mode: activated.
She turned back, smile soft.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry if I seemed rude. But I don’t need a promotion right now. I try to finish early because... something urgent is going on.”
Sudha waited. Silent.
(Author be like: Dekhte jao, abhi school ki yaad dilati hun 😉)
Arohini took a breath.
“One of my friend’s father is ill. She’s out of town. I step out sometimes to help. I’m sorry if that violates any guidelines.”
Sudha’s expression softened.
“It’s okay, Arohini. As long as your work is done. But next time, just inform me.”
Arohini nodded, grateful.
“Of course, ma’am.”
She turned—then paused.Two steps back.
“Actually... I got a call earlier. Uncle’s condition is critical. May I go now?”
(Author: Sharam karo Arohini, jhoot pe jhoot... 😌
Arohini: Han han, aap to maze se likh rahi ho. Yahan mai fasi hoon. Wahan mahashay bula rahe hain, yahan jhooth bolun to bhi aapko problem hai.)
Sudha leaned back, smiling faintly.
“Of course you can go. Even if it’s just been half an hour...”Her tone—teasing, not cruel.
“If it’s really critical, I won’t stop you. Just return soon.”
Arohini nodded.
“Okay, ma’am.”
She walked out—this time, her steps light.Determined.
Back in her cabin, she grabbed her peach bag, checked her phone once...And left.
