"Wires are tied to the soul, yet the mind is a maze,
In this city of data, a question now stays.
Every wall of logic will slowly decay,
When the ashes of fate slip out of your way."
---
Rudh stared at his laptop screen.
His mind—usually wired in binary and patterns—was now on the verge of a crash.
That strange script crawled across the screen like a snake.
He tried to force shut down, hit Ctrl + Alt + Del—
but the machine didn't respond.
"Seriously? What now?" Rudh snapped, slamming his hand on the keyboard.
"Such expensive hardware… and performance like a cheap calculator."
The laptop fans roared louder and louder—almost like a jet engine.
Then suddenly—
the screen went completely black.
Rudh exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair.
"Burnout," he muttered to himself.
"I've been running on nothing but coding and coffee for two weeks. My brain's just creating hallucinations and tech glitches now."
---
He checked the time.
Monday.
School time.
But right now, his brain wasn't in any condition to deal with math theorems.
He picked up his phone and sent a quick WhatsApp message to his class teacher:
"Ma'am, severe migraine. Won't be able to come to school today. Sorry."
---
Being a topper had its perks.
Within two minutes—
"Take rest, Rudh."
---
He told his parents he needed a break.
Said he wanted to visit his cousin in Delhi for a few days.
"The cold weather might cool my mind too," he added with a light smile.
They agreed without much questioning.
To them, he just looked tired.
---
The next morning, Rudh stepped out of Delhi airport—
and right in front of him stood Kabir, leaning casually against his car.
Kabir—the perfect definition of a Delhi boy.
Protein shaker in one hand, adjusting his Ray-Bans with the other.
"Oye Einstein! Over here!" Kabir shouted, casually grabbing the attention of half the airport.
Rudh adjusted his bag and gave a faint smile.
"Kabir bhai… a little quieter. People are staring."
"Let them stare! Mumbai's humidity has dried out both your brain and your body," Kabir laughed, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Come on, Mami's made chole-bhature for you. I'll feed you so many calories your 'logic brain' will shut down for a while."
---
Rudh got into the car.
Kabir started talking—non-stop—about new gyms, vlogs, and Delhi's gedi culture.
Strangely… it felt comforting.
This was real.
This was normal.
Last night's vision now felt like a cheap sci-fi trailer.
---
"Bro, you listening? There's a bodybuilding competition next month—your boy's gonna absolutely destroy it. No cap!" Kabir said, tapping the steering wheel.
"Of course, just make sure your brain grows along with those muscles," Rudh replied, smirking.
"Oye! You haven't changed at all," Kabir laughed, turning on the radio. A trending pop song filled the car.
---
Rudh looked out the window.
Delhi looked… normal.
People fighting over autos.
Street food stalls crowded.
Traffic making its usual chaos.
He glanced at his bag—his laptop resting inside.
He made a decision.
He wouldn't open it for the entire trip.
---
"Bro, want me to show you that new gaming café on the way?" Kabir asked.
"Nah… I just want to go home and sleep," Rudh said, stretching lazily.
"Haven't slept properly in Mumbai for days."
Kabir sped up the car.
"Done, Einstein. First food, then sleep, and in the evening—we chill. We'll reboot your system here in Delhi."
---
Rudh smiled.
Maybe this was exactly what he needed—
a normal life…
where words like destiny didn't exist.
---
As Kabir parked the car in his driveway, Rudh casually took out his phone.
The screen lit up.
And something… blinked.
Not a message.
Not a notification.
Just a number—inside his Steps Counter app.
Frozen.
Unchanging.
---
"13,000 steps to the Anchor."
---
Rudh slipped the phone back into his pocket and stepped out of the car—
convincing himself it was just another glitch.