Some chains are made of iron. Others—of blood, desire, and deception.

She is the perfect illusion. A quiet, harmless and delicate girl—at least, that’s what she wants the world to believe. But beneath the fragile mask lies something far more terrifying—a woman who does not beg, does not plead. She takes. She owns. She destroys.

Her obsession? Malang. A man bound by duty, chained to a love that was never his choice. His past is a tragedy, his present a debt. But what happens when an unstoppable force sets its sights on something it cannot have?

One by one, the obstacles in her path begin to vanish—some by fate, others by force. The girl who stands in her way drowns in her own illusions. And when the game reaches its final act, She does the unthinkable. She steals what cannot be stolen.

A man. A life. A love that was never meant to be.

Now, the world searches for a missing boy. But She already knows the truth.

He was never missing. He was simply taken.

The night was a raging beast, its fury unleashed in relentless sheets of rain. The highway stretched ahead, empty and slick, swallowed by the darkness beyond Malang’s headlights. The rhythmic swipe of the wipers barely kept up with the downpour, their mechanical hum the only sound inside his car. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as a distant flash of lightning illuminated the road ahead.

And that’s when he saw her.

A lone figure stood drenched in the rain, shrouded in darkness, her slender frame barely visible under the glow of his headlights. Her clothes clung to her body, her veil concealing her face, making her seem ghostly, fragile—helpless. She didn’t move, didn’t wave for help. She simply stood there, as if waiting for him.

Malang’s foot eased off the accelerator. His brows furrowed in concern. A woman, alone, in this weather? Something wasn’t right.

He slowed down and rolled down his window slightly, letting the cold wind whip against his face.

"Hey! Are you alright?" he called out over the roar of the storm.

She lifted her head, and through the veil, he glimpsed a pair of hauntingly wide, terrified eyes. She took a step closer, rain dripping from her trembling hands.

"P-please... help me..." her voice quivered, barely audible over the rain.

Malang’s heart clenched.

"What happened?" he asked, scanning the deserted road behind her.

"They’re chasing me..." her voice cracked, and she turned her head as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. "Please... save me..."

There was no hesitation. No second thoughts.

"Get in," he said, unlocking the door.

She hesitated for a second before slipping into the backseat, her wet clothes leaving dark stains on the leather. Malang glanced at her through the rearview mirror—she was shivering, curled up, almost disappearing into herself.

"Where to?"

She whispered an address, her voice barely above a breath. He recognized it—the outskirts of the city, where the dense forest began. A strange location, but he didn’t question it. He just drove.

The rain thundered against the car, the wipers fighting to keep the road visible. Silence filled the space between them.

"Who was after you?" he finally asked, eyes flickering to the mirror.

She didn’t answer. She only hugged herself tighter.

Something about this felt... off.

A sense of unease crept up his spine. But Malang shook it off. She needed help, and he wouldn’t turn his back on her.

The drive stretched on, and soon, the city lights faded behind them, swallowed by the dense forest that lined the narrow road.

Then, the mansion appeared.

A towering structure, ancient yet eerily beautiful, stood in the middle of the woods. Ivy crept up its stone walls, its windows dark and lifeless. The moment Malang stopped the car, a realization settled deep in his gut.

This wasn’t right.

Before he could react, a soft giggle echoed from the backseat.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, he turned his head—just in time to see the veil slip away, revealing a smiling face he never expected.

"Veronica?"

Her obsidian eyes glowed with something unreadable.

"Finally," she whispered, her lips curling into a smirk.

Malang reached for the door handle, but before he could move—a sharp sting at his neck. His body froze, his vision blurred.

The last thing he heard was her soft voice, whispering in the dark.

"You belong to me, Malang. Always have. Always will."

And then—darkness.

Malang wasn’t just the heartthrob of the university—he was its standard, its ideal.

He had the kind of presence that drew people in without effort. Sharp, disciplined, and dangerously focused, he wasn’t just a top student; he was a name that professors praised and competitors envied. A young entrepreneur, already making waves beyond the campus walls.

Yet, despite all this, Malang was a man of few words.

He had never cared for social games or fleeting friendships. His world was small, controlled, and unshaken—with only Kahani Malhotra as his close companion.

At least, that’s how it had always been.

Then Veronica entered their lives.

At first, she was just another transfer student—soft-spoken, polite, and easy to overlook. She didn’t push her way in, didn’t demand attention. She simply appeared, lingered, and stayed.

What began as casual encounters—a shared table at the library, a polite conversation in class—slowly turned into something more. Kahani liked her. And once Kahani liked someone, she kept them close.

Before long, Veronica and Kahani became inseparable.

They laughed together, gossiped about the latest trends, and moved in perfect sync. If Kahani was the fire, Veronica was the wind that fueled it. She never outshined her, never competed—only enhanced.

She was the perfect wingman.

If Kahani wanted something, Veronica made sure she got it.

If someone even looked at Kahani the wrong way, Veronica’s presence alone was enough to make them back off.

And just like that, she became part of their world.

The trio was always seen together—attending lectures, grabbing coffee, hanging out after class. But if Kahani and Malang were a couple, Veronica was their ever-present shadow. Always smiling. Always supportive. Always there.

Malang should have been indifferent.

Veronica was harmless, after all. A good friend. Kind, sweet, and almost too perfect.

And yet, for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt something off about her.

It wasn’t an attraction. It wasn’t love. Just curiosity.

She never asked too much. Never demanded attention. Yet, somehow, she always had it.

She was soft yet commanding, invisible yet unforgettable. A presence that didn’t beg to be noticed—it simply couldn’t be ignored.

And for the first time in a long while, Malang found himself watching someone. Not because he wanted to. But because he couldn’t help it.

Still, he pushed the thought aside.

Veronica had done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.

If anything, she had proven to be the best friend Kahani could ask for.

And if Kahani had enemies, they were Veronica’s enemies too.

Kahani had two major ones,

Neha Sharma—the self-proclaimed queen of the campus, who believed Malang belonged with her instead.

The basketball team bullies—led by Vibhav and Abhinav, who took an unnatural dislike to Malang for no real reason.

Whenever Neha or the bullies crossed Kahani’s path, Veronica was always there.

She never raised her voice. Never confront them outright. But the moment she stepped in, they quieted. They hesitated. They left.

And Kahani?

Kahani had never felt more protected.

For Malang, it was just another normal day. Another normal life.

But for Veronica?

This was only the beginning.