The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed overhead as Nisha hurried through the glass doors, her heels clicking frantically against the marble floor. It was 9:15 AM—fifteen minutes late, and she knew Mr. Malhotra wouldn't let it slide. Her heart raced from the dread of facing her stern boss. He ran a construction company, and tardiness was a cardinal sin in his book.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
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