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   पहली नजर में ही, वो आँखें दिल को भा गईं, 

   जैसे एक अनजान राह पर, मंज़िल दिखा गईं। 

   न जाने क्या था उन आँखों में, 

   कि उनका जादू दिल पर असर कर  गया।

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The midday sun blazed overhead, its golden rays streaming through the half-opened blinds of the cabin where Adrisha stood. Beads of sweat clung to her skin, but they weren’t just from the heat—anticipation coiled inside her like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Outside, the muffled but relentless cheers of the audience reached her ears, the sound seeping through the thin walls, making her body shiver with an electrifying thrill.

God, this was what she lived for.

She exhaled sharply, flexing her fingers at her sides as her nerves hummed with adrenaline. Then—BANG! A loud gunshot echoed across the arena, the official signal for the racers to take their places.

Adrisha’s heart pounded inside her chest, loud and insistent, a war drum heralding the battle she was about to face. This was the biggest underground bike racing championship she had ever participated in, a dream that had once seemed impossible. But fear? That was for the weak. And she wasn’t weak.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she turned toward the wooden table where her racing essentials lay.

Her custom-made leathers awaited her—midnight black with accents of fiery red, sleek and formidable, much like her. They weren’t just protective gear; they were her second skin, her armor against both the physical dangers of the race and the unseen battles she had fought all her life.

She slid into them with practiced ease, the snug fit molding to her body, offering both flexibility and strength. The scent of fresh leather mixed with the sharp tang of gasoline, a heady combination that sent a fresh wave of exhilaration coursing through her.

Beside her gear rested her helmet—a masterpiece in its own right. Its matte-black surface bore the emblem of a stylized phoenix, wings spread wide, flames dancing along its curves. A symbol of rebirth, defiance, resilience.

Adrisha let her fingers trace the intricate design, her breath catching for a split second. This phoenix… it was her.

Since childhood, she had borne the weight of expectations that weren’t hers to carry. She had heard the hushed murmurs, the careless remarks thrown like daggers—‘It would’ve been better if they had a son.’

Not from her parents.

No, they never voiced such words. But then again, they never voiced anything at all.

They were never there, always lost in their own world, a world where she simply… didn’t exist. At least, that’s what little Adrisha used to believe. Maybe, she had been wrong. Maybe, she wasn’t unwanted.

Or maybe… maybe she had just never been a priority.

She had learned the hard way that craving their attention was a battle she would never win. As a child, she used to cry herself to sleep in the cold dormitory of her boarding school, wondering why they sent her away when she had done nothing wrong. But as she grew older, the tears dried up, replaced by a quiet, aching indifference.

She stopped hoping. She stopped caring.

They didn’t know where she was now. Didn’t know what she was doing. They weren’t even aware that she had lied about the nuclear science workshop to come miles away from Delhi, all for this one race.

They didn’t know how desperately she had once longed for their love.

They didn’t know she had been bullied.

They didn’t know she had spent years alone—until Suhana Kapoor had stormed into her life like a hurricane, dragging her out of the darkness she didn’t even realize she was drowning in.

Suhana, her best friend.

Suhana, her savior.

If Suhana hadn’t pushed her, she wouldn’t be standing here today—bold, outspoken, fearless.

And her Dado.

A soft exhale left her lips. At least she had them.

Shaking off the ghostly grip of the past, Adrisha squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

Her gaze shifted toward the gleaming beast waiting for her in the garage—a Yamaha R1.

Even under the blinding noon sun, it shimmered with polished perfection, its sleek chassis exuding raw power, its engine promising unrelenting speed. The very sight of it sent a familiar thrill coursing through her veins. Freedom.

This was what she had fought for. This was her escape.

The Chennai Thunder wasn’t just a race.

It was a declaration.

A statement to the world—and to herself—that she was more than the hurt she carried, more than the girl who had been overlooked and dismissed.

With a steadying breath, she reached for her helmet, sliding it over her head. The visor clicked into place, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare. She adjusted her gloves, tightening them around her fingers, the familiar ritual calming the last shreds of unease.

The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, slicing through the thick air of the garage.

“Riders, to the track. The Chennai Thunder is about to begin!”

Adrisha swung her leg over the bike, gripping the handles as her heart beat in sync with the revving engines around her.

This was it.

Her moment.

A moment to defy expectations.

A moment to chase the wind.

A moment to unleash the phoenix.

With a final, steadying breath, she twisted the throttle.

And then—she rode.

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Eshaanth stood at the edge of the racing circuit, his pulse thrumming in rhythm with the growling engines around him. The air was thick with the scent of burnt rubber and gasoline, an intoxicating blend that sent a thrill down his spine. Unlike the other racers, he wasn’t wearing a mask.

He didn’t want to hide tonight.

For once, he wanted the world to see him—not as the prodigious heir to the Raichand empire, not as the media-dubbed genius with an IQ of 148, not as the man who built an empire at 25—but as Eshaanth, the racer. The man who lived for the thrill of speed, for the split-second decisions that could mean victory or disaster.

This race—the Chennai Thunder—wasn’t just another underground event. It was the biggest. The stakes were high, the risks even higher. Phones had been confiscated, ensuring no footage would leak, and only those with special passes were granted entry. It was an unspoken rule: What happened on this track, stayed on this track.

Eshaanth had spent years carefully guarding his identity. Cameras had never caught his full face, his public appearances were rare, and he made sure the media only got what he allowed them to see. But tonight, he had no interest in playing the Raichand heir. Tonight, he wanted to lose himself in the sport that set his soul on fire.

His gaze flicked across the crowd—shadowy figures illuminated by sunlight, their murmurs laced with excitement. The anticipation was electric, the kind that made hearts pound and fingers tighten around handlebars.

Then, his attention returned to his beast.

A Ducati Panigale V4, sleek and deadly in matte black with crimson accents. A machine built for dominance. Custom Akrapovič exhaust, carbon-fiber frame, a powerhouse engineered for speed and precision. Every inch of it screamed aggression, just like the man who straddled it.

He slipped on his Arai Corsair-X helmet, the dark visor shielding his thoughts. His Alpinestars racing suit molded to his body like a second skin, the armor discreet but formidable. Dainese Full Metal 6 gloves tightened around the grips, while his Sidi Mag-1 boots locked him into position, ready to command the asphalt beneath him.

With a flick of his wrist, the Ducati roared to life.

The sound split the air, turning heads, sending a clear message— Eshaanth Raichand was here to win.

His fingers flexed over the throttle, feeling the familiar vibration of raw, unrestrained power beneath him. The world blurred, the chatter of the crowd fading until there was only the track, the bike, and the intoxicating rush of what lay ahead.

He had conquered every illegal tournament he had ever entered. He wasn’t just good—he was the best.

And he had no intention of losing tonight.

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As the signal to start blared, a roar of engines filled the arena. Both Eshaanth and Adrisha surged forward, their bikes accelerating with breathtaking speed. The initial rush was a blur of motion and noise, each rider vying for an early advantage.

Eshaanth glanced to his side, his eyes locking onto Adrisha. He noted her determined expression as she maneuvered her bike skillfully through the initial pack of riders. A competitive spark ignited within him. Determined to outpace her, Eshaanth twisted the throttle, his bike responding with a powerful surge as he began to cut into her path.

Adrisha, noticing his move, glanced sideways at him and smirked. Her eyes gleamed with challenge. In an instant, she leaned forward, urging her bike to even greater speeds. The roar of her engine grew louder as she deftly maneuvered around Eshaanth, reclaiming her lead.

Their rivalry intensified as they sped around the track, weaving in and out of tight turns with razor-sharp precision. The other riders struggled to keep up, quickly falling behind the two frontrunners. The crowd watched in awe as Adrisha and Eshaanth engaged in a high-stakes dance of speed and strategy.

Adrisha's focus was unbreakable. She felt the wind whip against her face, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic hum of her bike. Every twist of the handlebars, every shift of her weight, was executed with flawless grace and determination. Eshaanth, equally resolute, matched her move for move, but Adrisha's edge was undeniable.

In the final stretch, Adrisha poured every ounce of energy into her ride. The finish line loomed ahead, and with a final burst of speed, she crossed it first, the crowd erupting in cheers.

Eshaanth, trailing just behind, couldn't help but admire her victory. Adrisha had proven herself once again, not just as a formidable competitor but as a master of the race.

Their bikes skidded to a halt, tires screeching as they stopped just inches apart, facing sideways. Adrisha swiftly removed her helmet, and her long, brown tresses cascaded down to her waist, glistening under the lights. The sight made Eshaanth's heart race, a mixture of admiration and frustration coursing through him. Though her face was partially concealed by a mask, her eyes sparkled with a teasing glint that sent a shiver down his spine. Those eyes, filled with playful mockery, made his blood boil.

Eshaanth, a man who was unaccustomed to losing, felt a deep, simmering rage within him. Winning was in his blood, his identity, and now, for the first time in his life, he had lost-and to a girl. He clenched his jaw, his grey eyes burning with the sting of defeat as he glared at Adrisha. The crowd's cheers only fueled his frustration, their voices a constant reminder of his failure. The commentators' praise for Adrisha was the final straw, each word like a dagger to his pride.

Despite his desire to storm away, to escape the humiliation, there was something about Adrisha that held him back. Her eyes, still fixed on him with that tantalizing gleam, intrigued him. He wanted to see beyond the mask to uncover the mystery of her face.

As they were called to the award ceremony, Eshaanth fought the urge to march off. Instead, he found himself drawn to Adrisha, compelled by a mixture of curiosity and a burning need to redeem himself.

Eshaanth slowly removed his helmet, and as he did, his curly black hair fell onto his forehead in a casual yet striking manner. His sharp jawline was immediately noticeable, adding to his rugged, handsome appearance. The little freckles scattered around his cheekbones softened his otherwise intense features, giving him an irresistible charm.

His piercing grey eyes scanned the crowd, exuding a mixture of confidence and intensity that made the girls in the audience scream for his attention. They were captivated by his presence, drawn to him like moths to a flame. Eshaanth looked nothing short of a Greek god, his physicality commanding admiration and respect.

Standing tall at 6'3", his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles showcased a body sculpted to perfection. Every movement he made, from the way he held his helmet to the subtle shift in his stance, exuded power and grace. The audience couldn't take their eyes off him, mesmerized by his charisma and the undeniable aura of dominance that surrounded him.

As Eshaanth looked over at Adrisha, the roar of the crowd faded into the background. His attention was solely on her, the girl who had just bested him. Despite the cheers and adulation directed his way, his mind was fixed on the challenge she represented. He vowed silently to himself that this wouldn't be the end. But for now, he couldn't help but feel the magnetic pull of Adrisha's presence, a force that rivaled even his own.

He watched her every move, noting the confidence in her stride, the effortless way she commanded the crowd's attention.

Eshaanth's thoughts raced as they approached the podium. He was determined to uncover Adrisha's secrets, to see the face behind the mask that had bested him. His competitive spirit, bruised but unbroken, drove him to confront the challenge head-on. As they stood side by side, waiting to receive their awards, Eshaanth vowed that this defeat would not be the end. He would rise again, stronger and more determined, and next time, victory would be his. But for now, he couldn't deny the grudging respect he felt for Adrisha, the girl who had dared to defy him and won.

"May the next time be more fortunate for you, Mr. Maverick." His jaw tightened as Adrisha's mocking voice approached his ear, trying to contain the jolt of rage he was feeling. "I would suggest that you work on your skills."

"Flying, aren't you?" He muttered huskily.

"Who would not when they win against the champion?" Her voice was barely audible above a whisper.

Eshaanth's eyes locked onto Adrisha's as he stepped closer, the noise of the crowd becoming a distant murmur. His jaw was set, determination etched into every line of his face. With a deliberate movement, he leaned in slightly, his voice low but filled with an unmistakable pride and command.

"Yes, champion, keep that in mind," he muttered, his tone dripping with intensity. "Just because you won one race, it doesn't mean I'm not the champion Phoenix." Each word was enunciated with a blend of respect and defiance, a reminder of his own prowess and reputation.

His grey eyes bore into hers, challenging yet acknowledging her skill. The statement was not just a reminder to Adrisha but also a promise to himself. He would reclaim his title, his place at the top. The pride in his voice was palpable, reflecting his unyielding spirit and the fierce determination that had always driven him.

Adrisha's smirk remained, her eyes still dancing with mischief, but she could feel the intensity radiating from Eshaanth. It was a clash of two formidable forces, neither willing to back down.

Eshaanth straightened, his towering presence commanding the space around them. The crowd might have seen a victor and a runner-up, but in his eyes, the race was far from over. The champion Phoenix had been momentarily eclipsed, but his flame still burned brightly, ready to rise again and reclaim his rightful place.

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