I was alone at home that afternoon, tidying up the kitchen after lunch, when the doorbell rang. My husband had mentioned something vague about his boss needing help, but I didn't think much of it. I smoothed down my sundress and opened the door to find Mr. Anil Garg standing there, my husband's stern-faced boss from the office. He looked tired, his broad shoulders slumped a bit under his suit jacket. I opened the door with a polite smile.
"Sir? What a surprise. My husband isn't home right now—he's out on that errand you sent him on. Can I help you with something?"
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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