Maya walked down the desolate road, her footsteps muffled against the cracked asphalt. Towering trees flanked both sides of the highway, their dense canopies weaving a tapestry of shadows that danced ominously under the faint moonlight.

The rustling of leaves whispered through the air, accompanied by the occasional creak of branches swaying in the wind. The eerie symphony sent a shiver down her spine.

The road felt heavier tonight, as though it carried a presence of its own. Maya's heart quickened when the wind suddenly hushed, leaving only the sound of her own breathing.

She paused mid-step, glancing around. Nothing. Yet, an unseen energy seemed to coil around her, like an uninvited companion lurking just out of sight.

She adjusted her mask, her fingers trembling slightly, and picked up her pace. It's nothing, she reassured herself. Just your mind playing tricks again.

But the sensation lingered, a prickling awareness at the back of her neck, as if unseen eyes were watching her every move.

The road stretched ahead, seemingly endless. The farther she walked, the quieter the forest became. Even the usual nocturnal chirps and distant howls were absent tonight. The eerie silence wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket.

Maya clenched her fists, her resolve hardening.

"You've walked this path countless times. Don't let fear get to you," she muttered under her breath, the sound of her own voice a small comfort.

Yet, the invisible presence didn't fade. It lingered, trailing her steps like a shadow she couldn't shake. Every instinct in her body screamed to run, but she knew better. Running would only make it worse-whatever it was.

A sudden snap of a twig made her whirl around. Her eyes darted through the dense foliage, scanning for movement. For a moment, it felt as though the darkness itself had come alive, shifting and breathing. But there was no one there, no movement-only the swaying branches and the heavy, still air.

Maya inhaled deeply and turned back, forcing herself to focus on the faint glow of lights ahead. The garage wasn't far now.

The thought steadied her nerves. She quickened her steps, the hum of fluorescent lights and the clang of tools waiting for her just beyond the trees.

Whatever unseen force haunted her steps tonight, it would remain out here, swallowed by the forest.

Her shoulders straightened as she stepped into the light spilling from the garage, leaving the heavy, haunting road behind.

But as she pushed the door open, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that whatever had followed her was still out there, waiting.

Unbeknownst to Maya, a figure concealed within the shadows trailed her, his eyes sharp and predatory.

The stalker pulled out his phone, dialing a number with steady fingers, and waited for the voice on the other side to answer.

"Sir," he whispered, his gaze fixed on Maya's retreating form. "She's heading to the garage. Should I execute the plan?"

On the other end of the line, a voice as cold as steel responded.

"No. Not yet," the man said, his tone dripping with a calculated malice.

"Just follow her. Report her every move. I want to know everything."

"Yes, sir," the stalker replied before the line disconnected. With one last glance toward Maya, he slipped back into the shadows and left, his task for the night complete.

In another part of the city, far removed from Maya's modest struggles, the man on the other end of the call reclined in a luxurious bathtub.

The dim lighting reflected off the marble walls, the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. Steam rose lazily around him as he leaned back, his fingers tracing the rim of a glass of wine perched on the tub's edge.

His eyes fell on a photo frame resting on a nearby table. The glass fogged slightly from the steam, but the picture inside was unmistakable-it was Maya.

Her innocent, hopeful smile stared back at him, contrasting starkly with the sinister smirk that played on his lips.

"Oh, my sweet, naive Maya," he murmured, his voice laced with venom and mockery. He reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of the photo frame as if he could feel her through the glass.

"Still trying to piece together a life, aren't you? So determined, so brave... but so pitiful."

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating off the marble walls like a predator's growl.

"You thought you could run from your fate. From me. But no one escapes me, Maya. No one."

His hand tightened around the frame, his smirk fading into a menacing glare.

"I will strip away every last shred of hope you have. I'll make sure you understand what it means to live in a world where I am the one who decides your fate."

Setting the frame down with deliberate care, he leaned back in the tub, his expression calm but his eyes burning with dark intent.

The ripples in the water mirrored the storm brewing within him as he muttered, almost to himself,

"The game is only beginning."

The flicker of a faint smile returned to his lips, one that promised chaos and destruction. And in that moment, it became clear that Maya's life was no longer her own-it had become a pawn in the hands of a man who thrived on control and ruin.

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The faint creak of the garage door echoed in the quiet evening as Maya pushed it open, stepping inside. The sharp scent of oil and metal greeted her like an old acquaintance.

Overhead, the flickering yellow bulbs cast long, wavering shadows across the rows of vehicles and tools, the heart of Salim Chacha's garage.

A cluster of workers sat at the corner, their voices subdued as they lazily worked on minor repairs. The sound of clinking tools and murmured conversations blended into the hum of the evening.

Salim Chacha, an elderly man with a thick, graying mustache, stood near a table, scribbling something into his register. His keen eyes darted up the moment he heard Maya's footsteps.

"Maya, Beti, finally you've come," Salim Chacha called out, his voice gruff but kind. He set the register aside, walking toward her with a faint limp.

"I'm sorry, Chacha, for coming late. Prachi had some doubts regarding her project, that's why," Maya explained quickly, pulling off her cap and adjusting her black jacket. Her face, partially hidden under the shadows, carried a hint of exhaustion that she masked with a faint smile.

Salim Chacha waved her apology off. "It's okay, Beti. Even if you come late, no one will be able to see your face in this darkness while you're walking here," he said, his attempt at light humor softening his otherwise serious demeanor.

Maya managed a small smile, her eyes glancing briefly around the garage. She noticed Sachin fiddling with a tool cart in the far corner, peeking at her curiously as always.

Salim Chacha's expression turned firm as he turned back to Maya.

"Listen carefully. A big Saheb's car has come for repair. It's parked in the big hall. The car needs to be ready by tonight. Tomorrow morning, his driver will come to collect it, and I don't trust these lazy boys to handle such important work." He paused, pointing toward Sachin. "Sachin will assist you, but you'll take the lead on this. Understood?"

"Okay, Chacha. I'll start right away," Maya replied with quiet determination, her tiredness forgotten as the task ahead became her sole focus.

Salim Chacha's gaze softened momentarily.

"Beti... did you get selected for any job today?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

Maya hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

"No, Chacha. Today they didn't even allow me to give the interview."

A flicker of sadness passed through the old man's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a nod.

"Don't worry, Beti. Hard work never goes to waste. Now, go on. Finish this job, hmm?"

"Yes, Chacha," Maya said firmly, stepping toward the large hall where the luxury car awaited her attention.

As she walked across the dimly lit garage, Sachin bounced up from his spot, grinning as he fell into step beside her.

"Didi, you're late again. What happened? Any job interviews?"

"Forget about all that, Sachin. How were your exams? Were the notes I gave you helpful?" Maya asked, brushing off his question with a gentle smile as they reached the car.

Sachin's grin widened. "Super helpful, Didi! My exams went suuuuperrrr!" he declared dramatically, earning a soft laugh from Maya.

"Good. Now enough talking. Let's get to work," she said, pulling on her gloves and stepping up to the gleaming car.

The hum of the garage became their background music as Maya and Sachin began their task, the world outside slipping away as they focused on the intricate work that awaited them.

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The metallic clink of a wrench echoed through the dimly lit garage as Maya worked intently on tightening the nuts of the car's wheel.

The scent of oil and grease lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the life she had built for herself.

Salim Chacha stood nearby, glancing at the old clock mounted on the wall, its hands inching towards 8:30 PM.

"Maya, it's already 8:30. Go home, Beta. Prachi is waiting for you," he said, his voice tinged with concern as he crossed his arms.

Without looking up, Maya replied,

"Almost done, Chacha. I just need to tighten these nuts, and the car will be ready." Her tone was calm yet resolute, as always when she was focused on her work.

Salim Chacha sighed, shaking his head.

"Sachin! Come here and help your Didi finish up," he called out, motioning toward the young boy cleaning tools in the corner.

"Yes, Chacha!" Sachin replied, hurrying over with an eager grin.

"And Maya, tomorrow is Sunday," Salim Chacha continued, his tone suddenly firm. "So, it's a holiday for you."

Maya's hands stilled for a moment.

"Holiday? Why, Chacha? I'll get bored at home. Please let me come. Please, please, please, Chacha," she pleaded, turning to him with an exaggerated puppy-dog expression.

Salim Chacha gave her a mock glare.

"No means no. You'll stay home tomorrow and spend time with Prachi. That's final. I won't hear another word about it."

"But, Chacha-" Maya started to protest.

"Complete the work and go home, Maya. That's all I'll say," Salim Chacha declared, walking away with a dismissive wave of his hand, effectively ending the conversation.

Sachin chuckled as he watched the exchange.

"Didi, you know once Chacha says something, it's like a stone etched in place. If he says you have a holiday, then you have a holiday. No use arguing."

Maya sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I know. If it weren't for Salim Chacha, I don't know how Prachi and I would have survived. I'll always be grateful to him, no matter what."

Sachin's expression softened at her words, but he quickly masked it with his usual playful demeanor.

"Didi, the work is done. You go home; I'll clean up here."

"No, let me help," Maya insisted, already reaching for a cloth.

"Didi, I said I'll do it. Now go home, or I'll call Chacha back. Do you want to get scolded again?" Sachin teased, shooting her a mock glare.

Maya laughed, raising her hands in surrender.

"Okay, baba, I'm going! Don't call Chacha. Goodnight!"

She removed her gloves, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the garage door.

The road stretched out ahead of her, lined with towering trees whose branches formed a canopy above, their leaves rustling in the cool night breeze.

Maya walked slowly, savoring the rare moments of quiet. The soft sounds of nature mingled with the crunch of gravel under her feet, offering a fleeting sense of tranquility.

As Maya walked through the road, her thoughts drifted to the past-the moment that had changed her life forever.

She could still feel the searing pain as acid splashed across her face, the burning agony that left her screaming in despair.

The memory of lying in the hospital bed was vivid: the heavy bandages on her face, the pitying looks from the nurses, and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that made her want to give up.

She had wanted to end it all. The thought of facing a world that only judged her by her scars felt unbearable. But then, there was Prachi.

Her little sister, had held her hand tightly, her tear-streaked face filled with fear and love. It was for Prachi that Maya had decided to survive, to fight against the odds.

When society turned its back on her, refusing to offer her even the most basic dignity, it was Salim Chacha who extended his hand.

He didn't see her scars as a mark of shame; he saw her strength, her potential.

He taught her everything about car mechanics, patiently guiding her through every bolt, nut, and engine part. His trust in her abilities gave her the confidence she had thought she had lost forever.

Maya smiled faintly, recalling how Chacha had insisted on giving her a salary of ₹20,000-a generous amount for someone working at a garage.

"This is not charity," he had said firmly when she tried to refuse.

"You're earning this because you're good at what you do. Use it to take care of Prachi and yourself. One day, when you get the job you deserve, you can thank me."

Those words had stayed with her, giving her the strength to keep going. Every rupee went toward their household needs and Prachi's education. Prachi was her everything-her reason to wake up each day and face a world that often tried to drag her down.

Even now, as she walked home under the quiet canopy of trees, Maya reminded herself why she kept fighting. For Prachi. For the chance to give her a better future.

For the family she had found in Salim Chacha and the small group of people who had chosen to love her for who she was, not what she looked like.

But tonight, the shadows seemed darker, the air heavier. An unseen energy lingered, watching, waiting. Maya was too lost in her thoughts to notice the faint rustle in the trees behind her, or the figure that slipped away into the night, unseen but not unnoticed by fate.

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Sunday morning greeted Maya with the sound of distant thunder and the soft patter of raindrops. The clouds hung low, their heavy gray shadows mirroring the weight in her heart.

Standing alone on the veranda of their modest home, she gazed out at the rain, letting the cool breeze brush against her skin.

The air smelled of wet earth, fresh yet bittersweet, a fragrance that awakened memories she often tried to bury.

As the rain intensified, she stretched out her hand, feeling the droplets kiss her fingertips. A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it never reached her eyes. For a moment, she closed them, surrendering to the rain’s gentle embrace.

“At least these drops don’t reject me,” she murmured softly, her voice swallowed by the steady rhythm of the rain.

“Not like everyone else... not like him.”

The thought of him brought an ache she couldn’t name. He had been her first taste of love, fleeting but unforgettable. She had met him on a rainy day, much like this one, before the acid attack, before her life shattered into jagged pieces.

Back then, she had been whole—not just physically, but emotionally. There was hope in her eyes, dreams she dared to believe in, and a heart unscarred by betrayal.

It had been such a simple moment, yet so profound. She had been standing at a bus stop, drenched and shivering, when he appeared, an umbrella in hand. Without hesitation, he had offered it to her, flashing a warm, disarming smile.

“You’ll get drenched,” he had said, tilting the umbrella over her.

Their conversation had been light, playful even, but something in the way he spoke made her feel seen, like she mattered.

She had laughed with him, feeling alive in a way she hadn’t in years. Before they parted, he had looked at her with eyes that seemed to hold promises of a future.

But the future had other plans. The attack had taken not just her face but also the fragments of her hope.

And he—he had vanished, like a phantom of the rain, leaving her with nothing but memories and the echo of a life she could no longer touch.

Now, standing under the same rain years later, Maya felt the weight of rejection pressing on her chest. It wasn’t just him—it was everyone.

Her parents, who had discarded her like a broken doll. The employers, who couldn’t see past her scars to recognize her worth. The strangers, who mocked her existence as if she were an aberration.

But the rain? The rain was different. It didn’t judge her, didn’t flinch away from her scars, didn’t remind her of the girl she could never be again.

It simply fell, cleansing everything in its path, washing away the grime of a world that had turned its back on her.

Maya sighed deeply, letting the rain drown her thoughts. Her heart felt heavy yet light, burdened yet free. Maybe the rain didn’t heal wounds, but at least it didn’t deepen them.

It was a companion, a witness to her pain, and perhaps the only thing in her life that didn’t expect her to be anything other than herself.

“Di, what are you doing?” Prachi’s voice jolted her from her reverie. “You’ll catch a cold. Come inside!”

Maya blinked, startled, as her hand dropped to her side. She turned to her sister with a faint smile.

“I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Prachi asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

Maya shook her head and stepped back into the house, brushing the rain off her arms.

“Nothing. Just... the rain. It makes me feel lighter.”

Prachi didn’t press further, but as Maya retreated into the kitchen, her thoughts lingered on the raindrops, their gentle rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos of her life.

And for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the rain could wash away her pain and give her the strength to carry on.

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After the rain had washed away the morning, Maya and Prachi ventured into the bustling market.

The earthy scent of wet ground mingled with the aroma of fried snacks and spices, carried on the breeze that weaved through the narrow, crowded lanes.

For Maya, the market had always been a battleground—every visit an ordeal marked by hushed whispers, sidelong glances, and the sting of judgmental eyes.

As the sisters moved from one stall to another, carefully selecting vegetables, an all-too-familiar voice sliced through the air like a shard of glass.

"Oho, Maya!" The woman’s tone was dripping with mockery, her voice deliberately loud to draw attention.

She stood near a fruit stall, arms crossed and eyes gleaming with malice.

"Still jobless, huh? Or should I ask—how many more rejections this week? Oh, silly me, why bother? Rejection and you are best friends, aren’t you? From your parents, from him, from companies... from life itself!"

Maya paused, her hands tightening around the bag in her grip. She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the venom being hurled her way.

Silence was her armor, her only defense in a world that seemed hell-bent on tearing her apart.

But the woman wasn’t done. Emboldened by Maya’s refusal to respond, she raised her voice further.

"I have a suggestion for you, Maya. Send this Prachi to the orphanage where you both crawled out from, and do us all a favor—strangle yourself, end it. Trash like you doesn’t belong in this world. You know what happens to trash? It gets thrown away."

The words hit Maya like a slap, but she stood her ground, her head low, her body still. Beside her, Prachi’s fists clenched.

"That’s enough!" Prachi’s voice rang out, sharp and steady. She stepped forward, placing herself between the woman and Maya.

Her gaze was fierce, unwavering.

"Aunty, you might be older, but that doesn’t give you the right to humiliate my sister. You want to talk about rejection? Let’s talk about your son. You gave him everything, didn’t you? And yet he abandoned you, left you alone for a life abroad. Maybe before you point fingers at us, you should look at the mess in your own life!"

The woman’s face turned crimson, a mix of rage and humiliation. For a moment, the market fell silent, all eyes on the confrontation. Maya quickly stepped forward, her voice soft but firm.

"Prachi, enough." She placed a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. Turning to the woman, she bowed her head slightly.

"I’m sorry, Aunty, for anything that might have upset you. Please forgive us."

Before the woman could respond, Maya tightened her grip on Prachi’s hand and walked away, her steps brisk and deliberate.

"Di, why did you apologize to her?" Prachi’s voice quivered with frustration.

"She insulted you in front of everyone! You didn’t deserve that!"

Maya didn’t respond immediately, leading Prachi to a quieter corner of the market. When they finally stopped, she turned to her sister, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"What should I have done, Prachi? Fought her? Yelled back? And then what? What if they retaliated? What if something worse happened? We live alone, Prachi. I can’t risk your safety. I’ve already lost everything—I won’t lose you too."

Prachi’s anger melted into heartbreak as she wrapped her arms around her sister.

"Di, you’re all I have. I don’t care what they say about us. Promise me you’ll never think about leaving me. Promise me, Di."

Maya wiped her tears and cupped Prachi’s face, a faint, bittersweet smile breaking through.

"I promise, Prachi. I’ll always be here for you."

The moment of warmth was short-lived. They returned to their errands, but the air was thick with tension.

Suddenly Sachin came running back, his face pale and his breathing uneven.

"Di! Some- something’s wrong!" he panted.

"At Salim Chacha’s garage... there’s a rally—people shouting, breaking things!"

Maya’s heart sank, fear tightening in her chest.

"What rally? Who’s there?"

Sachin struggled to catch his breath.

"They’re saying something about closing the garage... throwing things, breaking equipment. Chacha’s trying to stop them, but there’s a big crowd."

Maya’s hands trembled, but she quickly steeled herself. Turning to Prachi, she spoke with calm authority.

"Prachi, go home with Sachin. Don’t leave the house until I get back."

"But, Di—"

"No arguments," Maya cut her off, her tone firm but her eyes pleading.

"I’ll handle this. Sachin, take her home. Don’t let her out of your sight."

Sachin nodded reluctantly, guiding a protesting Prachi away.

Maya turned towards the garage, her heart racing as fear and determination warred within her.

She pushed through the crowded market, her mind racing with possibilities. What if they hurt Chacha? What if they destroy everything?

The sound of angry voices grew louder as she approached, the scene ahead chaotic.

Men with sticks and banners surrounded the garage, shouting slogans, their faces twisted with anger.

Salim Chacha stood in the middle, trying to reason with them, but his voice was drowned out by the crowd’s roar.

Taking a deep breath, Maya stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited her. Her fear was palpable, but so was her resolve. She wouldn’t let another part of her world be destroyed—not without a fight.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿..