Main Leads.

ʚїɞ  SHREE RAO  (20 year's old) ʚїɞ

       (Hacker)

Shree's POV

I never liked being underestimated. But honestly, it was useful.

People looked at me and saw a child — twenty, clumsy, sarcastic, and apparently 'too soft' to be taken seriously. Cute, right?

Except they didn't know I was ranked in the top five hackers in the country. They didn't know my plans started exactly where their brains shut off. They didn't know firewalls were my playground and secrets were my favorite currency.

Let them think I'm harmless. It makes teaching them lessons so much easier.

I could handle anything — systems, security, chaos, even people. The only thing I couldn't handle was my own heart. It stuttered whenever it wanted, thanks to the arrhythmia I'd been stuck with since sixteen.

But death? Pain? Fear?

I stopped caring about those long ago. Living is punishment and death is release. But grief- grief is the real antagonist.

Then there was him.

"He didn't smile not because he couldn't but because once upon a time he did... and he lost everything."

He wasn't calm. Calm is gentle. He was controlled the kind of silence that could command a room without ever raising a voice.

People called him cold-hearted. I don't think that was true. Cold is the absence of warmth; he was the aftermath of losing it. A man doesn't shut his heart unless someone taught him to.

He never smiled. Not because he was incapable of it, but because the last time he did, it cost him something he could never win back. I could see it in the way his eyes refused to soften.

Where I was chaos, he was discipline. Where I rushed, he calculated. Where I burned, he froze. He steadied the world around me without even touching me.

I don't know what he is to me yet—danger, contradiction, or accidental peace. But whatever it is, he makes the noise in my head go quiet for the first time in years.

And maybe that's exactly why I don't know whether he's my cure... or my catastrophe.

  ʚїɞ VEER RANA ( 25 year's old) ʚїɞ

                                                          (CBI Officer)

Veer's POV

They say grief makes you human. I disagree. Grief made me a ghost.

I used to feel. I used to breathe like a man with a future. But that mission... it didn't just take her it took everything. My wife. My warmth. My reason. One bullet rewrote my existence.

Now I walk corridors of crime and corruption with a badge that weighs heavier than guilt. Cold. Ruthless. Efficient. That's what they call me. But they don't know that I'm just a corpse wearing a uniform. A shell trained to hunt monsters while becoming one.

I don't smile. I don't flinch. I don't mourn. Because expression is weakness. And weakness costs. I've already paid the price.

"I wasn't built for peace. I was built for control."

"And then she came-wild untamed strom wrapped in sunlight that I never saw coming."

She appeared like a spark in the darkness.
A mess of energy, chaos, and defiance. Everything I thought I had controlled... she disrupted.

I shouldn't notice her. I shouldn't care.
Rules, discipline, years of pain — all screaming at me to stay detached.
And yet... I notice.

Her laughter is reckless. Her mind is sharp. She moves through systems, codes, and people with the same fearless rhythm I thought only I had.
She irritates me.
She fascinates me.
And for the first time in years... I feel a crack. Not in her. In me.

I don't touch. I don't smile. I don't allow attachment.
Because attachment costs. I've already paid that price once.
But she... she doesn't follow rules.
She doesn't fear death. She doesn't fear me. And somehow, I can't stop watching her.

She is chaos. I am control.
And yet... I feel the world pause when she's near.

My little strom.

My peace.