Unraveling the storm Shruti and Druve's first collision

Shruti walked through an endless expanse of darkness, each step dragging her deeper into an uncertain place. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but a feeling—a tug at her heart—kept pulling her forward. It was as if there was something, someone, just out of reach. Yet, no matter how far she walked, the answer evaded her.

The air around her felt thick, heavy with unspoken words, and every movement felt like a dream—distant, unreal. She didn't know where she was, or why she had come, but her feet carried her onward, as if they knew what she needed even when she didn't. The ground beneath her was soft, almost comforting, yet her chest felt tight with a longing she couldn't place.

She wandered aimlessly, the path stretching endlessly before her. The world around her was nothing but shadows, but there was something familiar about the way it felt—something she couldn't quite grasp. Her steps were slow, hesitant, as though waiting for something to happen, for something to reveal itself.

Then, as if summoned by the very air around her, a figure appeared in the distance. A silhouette—shrouded in a soft, distant light. The face was obscured, but the presence was undeniable. The figure stepped closer, moving with purpose, and a voice, warm yet distant, reached her ears.

"Are you tired?" it asked, the words carrying a strange weight. "What's wrong?"

Shruti's heart stuttered, the words pulling something inside her. The voice was familiar in a way that unsettled her. It was a comfort and a mystery, an echo from the past, a thread she couldn't trace. She wanted to reach out, to ask, but the figure was too far, too hidden in the shadows to touch.

A strange recognition flickered in her mind—something about the way the voice held a certain kindness, a calm reassurance that made her feel... safe. It was a warmth that reminded her of someone, someone important, someone she couldn't remember, yet could almost feel.

She took a step closer, feeling an inexplicable connection. Her breath hitched, and the figure's outline seemed to shift, sharpening, becoming clearer—until it was like the figure was not just a stranger but someone who had always been there, someone who belonged.

"Who are you?" she whispered, but her voice was swallowed by the dark air. The answer felt so close, yet miles away. The image before her rippled, like a dream on the verge of breaking apart, but there was still something pulling her toward it.

And then, as if the very thought of him brought him closer, the figure's face became clearer—just for a moment. The outline of a face she knew too well, someone she had been searching for without even realizing it. The last piece of a puzzle that didn't belong in the place she was now.

She inhaled sharply, and the vision flickered, pulling her deeper into the space between sleep and wakefulness. A name echoed in her mind, though she couldn't remember it clearly, only a feeling—Dhruv.

A weight pressed on Shruti's chest, the kind that felt like it belonged to someone else—someone she could never quite remember. She tried to move, but the air around her was thick, pulling her deeper into the fog. Faces blurred past her, voices calling out in the distance, but none of them felt real. Her world was a haze, the edges of reality curling inwards like smoke.

Suddenly, the haze shifted. A figure emerged, sharp and distinct against the fading backdrop of her dream. His eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—fixed on her in a way that sent an unfamiliar chill down her spine. The world around them seemed to shrink until there was only him, and for a moment, Shruti couldn't breathe.

She found herself in a classroom, though it was unfamiliar. She felt the pull of something—someone—guiding her there, but it was as if she were a mere observer in her own mind.

The classroom buzzed with the noise of students scrambling to find their seats, preparing for the upcoming lecture. Shruti, sitting at the back, had always been the quiet type—her focus was on her studies, and her attention never strayed far. That day, however, her eyes were drawn to someone who seemed to be an outlier.

Dhruv sat in the front row, detached from everyone else. His expression was cold, and his disinterest in the chaotic energy around him was palpable. He was the type of person who could command attention without trying, with an air of indifference that made him almost untouchable. Tall, confident, with sharp features and eyes that seemed to pierce through the mundane, he was not someone who blended into a crowd.

Shruti noticed him before he even noticed her. She couldn't help but observe the way he carried himself—the almost invisible aura of power and isolation around him. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

When the professor began to call on students for a group project, Shruti wasn't expecting to be paired with him. But she was. The professor's announcement came as a surprise, and before she could even process it, she found herself walking over to his desk.

"Hi, I'm Shruti. I guess we're partners," she said, offering a polite smile.

Dhruv didn't look up immediately. His gaze was focused on the papers in front of him, as if he were trying to ignore the situation entirely. After a few moments, he finally lifted his eyes, meeting hers for the first time. His gaze was direct, almost as if he was assessing her.

"Great," he replied, his voice detached, with no enthusiasm.

Shruti's smile faltered, unsure how to proceed. She tried again, her voice softer this time, "We can go over the project details together, or—"

"I don't need help," Dhruv interrupted, his tone cutting through the air. "I work alone."

Shruti blinked, slightly taken aback by his bluntness. She wasn't used to such coldness, but something about him intrigued her. Despite the apparent wall he'd put up, there was an intensity in his eyes that she hadn't seen in anyone else. He was like a storm, brewing silently.

She wasn't one to give up easily. "Well, I thought we could at least discuss our approach," she said, trying to keep the conversation going.

Dhruv's frustration became apparent. "I said, I work alone," he repeated, his patience wearing thin. "Just stay out of my way."

But as Shruti stood there, unwilling to back down, something unexpected happened. For a split second, Dhruv's mask cracked—his eyes flickered with something like vulnerability, a brief moment where the harshness softened. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold detachment once more.

"Fine," Shruti said, taking a step back. "I'll do my part, you do yours."

She left him alone to work in silence, but in her mind, the encounter lingered. There was something magnetic about him, something that tugged at her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

The days passed, and Shruti found herself caught between reality and the lingering fragments of her dream. Each time she sat in class, her eyes would drift to Dhruv, and she'd find herself studying him without meaning to. He was always the same—quiet, distant, and somehow unreachable. The world seemed to bend around him as though he were existing in his own separate reality.

It wasn't that Shruti wanted to get involved with him. No, it was more like an invisible force pulling her closer, even as he kept pushing her away.

The next meeting on their project arrived sooner than Shruti had expected. She had barely slept, caught between the weight of her thoughts and the growing sense of connection with Dhruv, though she couldn't understand why. But today was different. She wasn't about to let him get away with brushing her off.

As usual, Dhruv was already seated at their designated corner of the library, papers scattered in front of him. He barely looked up as she approached.

"Are we going to actually do something today, or are you going to keep ignoring me?" Shruti asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

Dhruv didn't flinch. "I don't need your help. Just follow what I say, and we'll be done quickly."

Shruti's eyes narrowed. She wasn't the type to let anyone dictate things without a fight. "I'm not your assistant, Dhruv. You can't just tell me what to do and expect me to agree without saying a word."

His gaze finally lifted, meeting hers with a cold, unamused stare. "I said, I don't need your input. Stay out of my way."

Shruti crossed her arms, refusing to back down. "No, that's not how this is going to work. We're partners in this, and if you want my help, you're going to have to listen to me."

The tension hung thick in the air as Dhruv let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to argue, to push her aside as he always did with others, but for some reason, something in her stance made him hesitate. She wasn't backing off, and that frustrated him more than he cared to admit.

"We don't have time for your games," Dhruv snapped. "Just follow the plan, and let's finish this."

"Games?" Shruti scoffed. "You're the one treating this like a power play. I'm not your servant, Dhruv. Either you start respecting my opinion, or we're done."

Dhruv's expression hardened, but instead of snapping at her again, he clenched his jaw. He could feel his control slipping. Shruti wasn't afraid of him. It was... unsettling.

"Fine," he muttered, as if conceding reluctantly. "What do you want to do?"

Shruti's lips curled into a small, victorious smile. "First, we need to reorganize this. It's all over the place."

The next encounter happened the following week, and Shruti had a feeling this wasn't going to be any easier. She entered the library, searching for Dhruv. As usual, he was in his usual spot, but this time he was staring intently at his phone, barely noticing her approach.

"Really? You're going to act like you didn't hear me last time?" Shruti said, walking up to his desk with purpose. "You can't keep shutting me out like this."

Dhruv didn't look up, his voice low and dismissive. "I told you already—work alone, or don't work at all."

Shruti wasn't having it. "You really think you can just command me around? I don't take orders from anyone, especially not you." Her tone was firm, but there was an edge of something else, something that urged him to acknowledge her words.

She leaned closer, her frustration rising. "You're not the only one who's capable here. I know you're trying to push me aside, but I'm not going anywhere. You'll need me for this project, whether you like it or not."

Dhruv stared at her, his eyes cold, but there was something else in the depths of his gaze—something that made Shruti feel like she was breaking through to him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"I don't need anyone," he muttered under his breath.

Shruti wasn't deterred. "I don't care what you think you need. I'm not backing down, and I'm not doing things your way if it's just going to be your way or the highway."

They locked eyes for a moment, the silence between them thick and charged. Dhruv felt the familiar, icy wall rising, but for once, he didn't want to build it so high.

"Fine," he said, his voice tight with restraint. "We'll meet at my place to finish this."

Shruti raised an eyebrow, surprised by his agreement. "Oh? So, you've finally decided to let me in? Or are you just trying to get rid of me faster?"

Dhruv gave her a hard look. "It's where we'll get the work done. No distractions."

Their final encounter before the big meeting at Dhruv's place took place in the hallway after class. Shruti caught up to him as he was walking toward the exit.

"So, you're finally letting me help you?" she teased, not hiding her amusement.

Dhruv glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Don't make this into something it's not. We're just finishing what we started."

"Sure, sure," Shruti smirked. "I know I'm a pain, but you're the one who agreed to this. Don't back out now."

Dhruv's lips twitched as if he was about to say something sharp, but he held himself back. "I'm not backing out. We'll meet tonight. Get ready."

"Don't worry, I'm always ready," Shruti said with a grin, watching him walk away, the unease in her chest growing with each step. She had no idea what was about to unfold, but something told her it wouldn't be just another boring project night.

As Shruti entered Dhruv's apartment, the first thing that hit her was how sterile it felt. The space, though spacious, lacked the warmth she had expected from someone her age. There were no personal touches—no photos, no art, just sleek furniture and cold, metallic fixtures. It felt more like a showroom than a home.

Dhruv had already moved toward the desk, his expression unreadable. Shruti glanced around and then back at him, sighing inwardly. Not what I was expecting, she thought.

"Sit," Dhruv ordered without looking up, his eyes already glued to his laptop screen. Shruti, standing near the door, didn't immediately comply. She studied him for a moment—his sharp jawline, the intensity in his eyes even when they were hidden behind his computer screen. He was so focused, so cold. But there was something else, something she couldn't quite place, lurking underneath all of that.

She crossed her arms. "You know, you could try being a little less... detached. We're not strangers. At least not anymore."

Dhruv didn't respond, but Shruti didn't mind. She had learned long ago that his silence was his way of staying in control. But tonight, she wasn't going to let him retreat into his own world.

"So, tell me," she said, her voice soft but teasing, "Do you always work like this, or is it just when you're trying to impress someone?"

At this, Dhruv's gaze flickered up briefly, his lips tightening as though he didn't appreciate the question. But he didn't say anything—he just nodded toward the chair across from him. Shruti didn't sit, though. Instead, she walked around the room, still trying to figure him out.

She couldn't help herself. "Your place... it's a bit too clean. Like you're afraid of... feeling anything."

This caught him off guard. He closed his laptop with a small snap, finally looking at her, his eyes narrowed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or annoyance—but it quickly vanished. His cold expression returned.

"You're wrong," he said quietly, his tone much more measured. "I don't need warmth."

Shruti raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe you should try it. You never know what you might be missing."

There was silence between them, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. For the first time, Shruti noticed a subtle shift in Dhruv. The way his posture relaxed, the way his gaze softened as he looked at her. For a moment, just a moment, she saw something in his eyes—something that reminded her of a time long gone, a time when he had been cared for, when someone had taken care of him.

Before she could say anything more, Dhruv's attention shifted, his gaze flicking toward the window. He froze, his expression hardening. Shruti didn't notice it at first, too focused on the strange warmth that had briefly filled the room, but then she saw it—the subtle tension in his body.

"Dhruv?" she asked, confused. "What's—"

He stood up abruptly, his eyes scanning the room with a sharpness that made her blood run cold. There was something about him now—something raw, frantic even, that she couldn't place.

"Get down," Dhruv said, his voice low but urgent. "Stay low."

Shruti frowned, but she didn't have time to question him before the door to his apartment burst open. Footsteps thundered in, heavy and deliberate, followed by the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked.

The attackers were here.

Dhruv immediately moved, his hand shooting out to grab her and pull her behind the desk. But the second the sound of footsteps filled the room, a tremor passed through him. His hand on her arm was unsteady for just a moment—his grip tightening, his knuckles white.