The PSR building towered over the city, a sleek structure of steel and glass that gleamed under the morning sun.

Its reflective surface mirrored the bustling world below, while inside, the environment was one of disciplined calm and precision.

The lobby was pristine, with polished floors and walls lined with modern art, a testament to the power and prestige the company held.

Every detail spoke of ambition and success, designed to impress upon anyone entering that this was no ordinary corporation.

On each floor, employees worked with a mechanical efficiency. Rows of desks were lined neatly, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, shuffling of papers, and the occasional murmur of voices blended into a steady hum.

It was a world of focus and drive; everyone knew the standards set here were high, and expectations, even higher. Mistakes were not an option.

At the very top floor, beyond the regular hustle of the office, was a secluded, exclusive space-a floor that contained only one room.

The door stood tall, sleek a polished plaque labeled "CEO" adorned the door, but it wasn't the actual owner, it was HIM, who occupied this office.

For everyone knew that Ajit, HIS trusted partner and the public face of PSR, was the one in command here.

This was the domain of Ajit, a man whose presence commanded both respect and fear.

Inside the premium office, sunlight spilled through expansive windows that framed a breathtaking view of the city.

The room was luxuriously appointed, with dark wood furnishings and modern, minimalist decor that spoke of quiet power.

In the center of it all sat Ajit, his gaze cold and unwavering, as an employee stood nervously before him, clutching a report that was anything but complete.

Inside the cabin, an uneasy silence hung between Ajit and a young employee standing before him, shifting nervously on his feet.

The employee's gaze darted from the floor to Ajit, whose expression remained impassive, cool, and severe.

Ajit's piercing eyes tracked the man like a hawk watching prey, betraying no hint of leniency.

"Mr. Kapoor," Ajit began in a dangerously calm tone, his voice like ice. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"Do you realize what you've done?"

The employee swallowed, his mouth dry.

"S-sir, I... I apologize. The report wasn't finished because-"

Ajit raised a hand, silencing him instantly.

"Because of what?" he demanded, his voice low but razor-sharp.

"Because you thought a half-finished report was acceptable in my company?"

The employee's face paled.

"No, sir... I just-"

Ajit stood up, his movement smooth and controlled, each step bringing him closer until he was looming over the man. He spoke slowly, his words dripping with barely contained anger.

"When you walk through these doors, you represent this entire company. Every report, every detail is a reflection of us." He leaned in, his gaze unwavering.

"A single weak link damages the whole chain. Are you that weak link, Mr. Kapoor?"

The employee's throat bobbed as he tried to find his voice.

"No, sir... I'll fix it right away. I promise."

Ajit let the silence stretch for a few excruciating moments, watching the man squirm under his intense stare. Finally, he gave a curt nod.

"See that you do. Because here, excuses mean nothing. Results are everything." His voice softened, but his eyes remained fierce.

"And if you think you can deliver anything less, you're mistaken. Understood?"

The employee nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good." Ajit's tone grew colder. "Now, get out of my sight-and don't return until that report is flawless."

The employee practically stumbled backward, nodding as he hastily made his exit. The door closed, and Ajit returned to his chair, a faint, satisfied smile curving his lips as he resumed his work.

This is Ajit Mehta-the face of PSR, the one who represented everything the towering corporation stood for. With his commanding stature and an air of quiet authority, Ajit's presence could silence an entire floor.

To the employees, he wasn't just a leader; he was a force to be reckoned with, someone who could shatter their illusions of comfort with a single, steely glance.

His words carried weight, and his expectations were mercilessly high, yet always met with a strange respect and an edge of fear.

But Ajit wasn't just a powerful figure within the company; he was the trusted hand of the real power behind PSR.

The employees spoke about HIM in hushed tones, never quite daring to say HIS name too freely.

HE was the architect of PSR's empire-a figure who remained in the shadows, rarely seen, but whose influence was unmistakable. This unseen force was revered, feared, a silent figure whose very absence seemed to amplify HIS authority.

And Ajit was his closest confidant, the one who knew HIM better than anyone. To the world, they were business partners, but to those who knew them well, Ajit was like a brother to HIM.

They had grown together, bonded through years of loyalty, secrets, and ambition.

In Ajit's hands lay the responsibility of managing PSR's public face, his steady composure concealing the depths of knowledge and strategy that the two shared.

To the employees, Ajit was formidable, but it was the unspoken presence of HIM that made them truly cautious.

Everyone knew that Ajit spoke on HIS behalf, that he held the trust and confidence of a man whose silence commanded as much respect as his words.

This unseen force was felt in every corner of the company, an almost mythical presence who shaped every decision, every policy, and every success.

Ajit was their link to HIM-a bridge between the visible and the invisible power, between the familiar and the unknown-and through HIM, everyone felt the weight of HIS authority, the SILENT KING who ruled from the shadows.

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"Prachi, hurry up!" Maya called, zipping up the small tiffin box and placing it carefully in Prachi's worn school bag.

"Coming, Di!" Prachi called back, rushing into the room while trying to tame her unruly hair into a braid. She was huffing with the effort, her fingers clumsy as they hurriedly twisted and tied each strand.

Maya couldn't help but smile, reaching over to give her sister a quick hug. "Got everything?" she asked, glancing over Prachi's uniform and the books stacked in her arms.

"Yup, all set!" Prachi grinned, eyes shining with her usual energy. "But hurry, Di, or we'll both be late. And I'll never hear the end of it from you!"

Maya chuckled, shaking her head as she went to get ready herself. She changed into her white shirt and black pants, her professional outfit modest yet neat. She checked her reflection in the cracked mirror, her fingers lightly grazing the scarred half of her face.

The scars, her silent yet loud companion, always there to remind her of battles she'd rather forget but had no choice but to live with. She forced her gaze away, adjusting her collar and taking a steadying breath before grabbing her bag.

Together, they hurried to the bus stop, weaving through the morning crowd. Once on the bus, Maya clutched her small handbag tightly in her lap, her mind already running through the day's schedule.

Prachi sat beside her, chattering away with excitement about her school day ahead, filling Maya's heart with a warmth that made the morning feel a little brighter.

When they finally reached the school, Maya held onto Prachi's shoulder for a moment, watching her little sister adjust her bag before turning to face her.

"Have a good day," Maya said softly, smoothing down a stray strand of hair from Prachi's face.

"Don't worry about me, Di! And hey, don't forget to eat the lunch I packed for you," Prachi replied, grinning. "You know how you get when you skip meals."

Maya nodded, feeling a surge of pride as Prachi gave her one last hug and dashed through the school gates, waving energetically as she disappeared into the bustling crowd of students.

But as Maya turned away from the school, making her way back toward the bus stop, she felt it-the weight of stares and whispers. People passing by glanced her way, their eyes lingering a little too long on her scarred face.

She could feel their curiosity, the silent questions, the pity in their expressions, and, worse, the judgment. Some looked away quickly, uncomfortable with even a momentary connection to her pain, while others let their gaze rest, their eyes tracing her scars openly.

Maya's grip tightened on her bag, and she straightened her shoulders, refusing to let those looks burrow into her heart. She kept her gaze forward, her chin held high as she moved past the onlookers, focusing on the path ahead.

But beneath her calm expression, her heart clenched. She couldn't deny that each stare still felt like a prick against her soul, like an invisible weight pressing down on her with each passing glance.

She could feel the world judging her by her face alone, failing to see her strength, her dreams, the life she'd rebuilt against impossible odds.

Yet even in those moments, when the world's gaze felt suffocating, Prachi's laughter echoed in her mind-the memory of her little sister's excitement, the warmth in her voice when she spoke of simple things like packing lunch and telling her stories.

Those small, precious moments reminded Maya of her purpose, of the reason she kept moving forward, no matter how many stares she had to endure.

The bus pulled up, and Maya took a steadying breath as she stepped inside, finding a quiet seat by the window.

The city streets blurred by as she watched, her thoughts both heavy and hopeful as the day stretched ahead.

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Maya sat quietly, waiting, her heart heavy with anticipation, her mind clinging to the faint hope that today might be different.

She had given her best, done everything she could to prepare for this interview. But as the minutes slipped by, her hopes began to waver.

Then, the manager stepped out. Maya immediately stood, looking at him with quiet determination, but he didn't meet her gaze fully.

With a slight frown, he cleared his throat and said,

"We've already selected our five deserving candidates, Ms. Verma. Better luck next time."

The words struck her like a familiar blow, one she'd felt over and over. Yet this time, the sting was sharper, cutting deeper, because she hadn't even been given the chance to interview.

Before, they'd at least let her speak, allowed her to try to prove herself. But here she was dismissed outright, rejected before even getting a chance to show her capabilities.

Maya gave a polite nod, hiding the emotions clawing at her.

"Thank you sir," she whispered, managing to keep her voice steady, though inside, something fragile felt like it was breaking.

As she walked out, the weight of countless rejections pressed down on her, each one a reminder of doors closing, of opportunities slipping away.

Some days, it was hard to keep going, to keep trying despite the odds stacked against her. She felt like a shadow drifting through a world that couldn't see her beyond her scars.

Her mind flickered back to darker days, to that moment when she was in the hospital after the attack, lost in pain and despair, wondering if she'd ever want to live this life.

There had been days when she'd felt like giving up entirely, like slipping into silence and letting it all end.

But each time, the image of Prachi's young, hopeful face had kept her here, grounded her when she thought she might drift away.

Now, with nothing left but her sister to live for, she walked forward, hoping that one day, things would change. That maybe there was still a chance for a new beginning-even if it was just a whisper of hope in the darkness.

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The evening sun cast a warm glow over the small, cozy space Maya and Prachi called home.

Stepping inside, Maya felt a familiar sense of relief wash over her, leaving the weight of the outside world behind.

Her eyes landed on Prachi, who was hunched over her school project, focused and determined.

"Di, you're back!" Prachi's face lit up as she hurried over with a glass of water.

"How was your day?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Maya took a sip, letting the coolness ease the day's weariness.

"It was... well, a lot like every other day," she started, but then paused, her thoughts lingering.

"But something was different this time," she added thoughtfully.

Prachi's eyes widened, intrigued.

"Really, Di? What happened?"

Maya shared the events of the day-the familiar sting of rejection at the job interview.

"He said 'no' to you, Di? Don't worry-one day, they'll realize they missed out on the best person they could've hired!" Prachi said with unwavering faith.

Maya chuckled, a hint of warmth returning to her expression.

"Thanks, Prachi. Now, what about your project? Need any help?"

Prachi shook her head with a grin.

"We'll get to that later, Di. First, go freshen up. I'll get the food ready. We'll eat together."

Maya arched an eyebrow.

"Prachi, how many times do I have to remind you? You shouldn't be skipping meals waiting for me," she scolded gently.

"Uff, Di, you know I can't eat without you," Prachi replied with a playful pout. "Now, don't give me that look! Go get ready; I'll set up everything."

As Maya headed to take a shower, she couldn't help but smile.

"This girl is truly a crazy," she thought, shaking her head fondly.

The cool water felt refreshing against her skin, washing away the stress. She changed into a comfortable black T-shirt and sweatpants, ready to join Prachi.

When she returned, she found that Prachi had laid out their simple meal on the floor-dal, rice, and enough leftover sabzi to share.

"Prachu, wait five minutes, and I'll make us some tomato chutney and fried potatoes," Maya said, heading to the kitchen.

"Yay! Let me help you chop the tomatoes and potatoes," Prachi said eagerly.

In minutes, they had whipped up the chutney and fried potatoes to add to their meal. As they sat down to eat, Prachi sighed happily.

"Di, this simple food tastes like heaven."

Maya smiled. "Good food is less about fancy ingredients and more about sharing it with the right people."

After their meal, Prachi brought up her project, seeking Maya's help. They worked through it together, laughter and conversation filling the room. Hours slipped by, and when Maya finally checked the clock, she realized it was nearly 5 p.m.

"Prachu, finish the sums using the midterm rule like we discussed. If you need help, I'll check it when I get back," Maya said hurriedly, rushing to get changed.

She slipped into her garage attire-a black full-sleeved shirt, black pants, a cap, and a mask. With her face mostly covered, she felt shielded from the world's prying eyes.

"Take care, Prachu. I'll be back soon," Maya called as she headed for the door.

"Bye, Di. Be careful," Prachi replied, her voice filled with quiet concern and a touch of pride.

The door closed, and Maya stepped out into the night, her mind already focused on the shift ahead.

The path was quiet, the shadows of trees stretching along the road as she walked forward with purpose, resilient as ever, carrying both her hopes and her responsibilities.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿..