Raya Sharma’s room is soft chaos. Open notebooks layered over each other. Highlighters without caps. A half-drunk mug of cold coffee. Her bed unmade because she hasn’t slept properly in two days.

The only steady thing in the room is her laptop.

The glow from the screen paints her face in pale blue. Her hair is messy, falling over one shoulder, and she tucks it behind her ear without thinking as she rereads the last paragraph of Chapter 27.

Her fingers hover above the keyboard. She exhales slowly. Types. Deletes. Types again.

Her male lead is supposed to beg here. But she doesn’t like breaking her men completely. “Too much groveling kills dignity,” she mutters to herself.

She clicks upload. The progress bar crawls forward.

95%.

96%.

97%.

She leans back, stretching her arms above her head. Her t-shirt lifts just slightly at the waist, exposing warm skin to the cold air.

98%.

The screen flickers. Her eyebrows pull together.

99%.

The screen goes black. Not a crash-black. Controlled and Intentional. Then white letters appear in the center. 

Your male lead would never say that.

Her breath stalls. The cursor blinks. Another line types itself.

You make him too soft when you’re scared.

Her fingers freeze over the keyboard. She didn’t open any chat window. She didn’t switch tabs. This is her draft screen. Her private draft. Her heart begins to pound in her ears. The text continues.

Chapter 12 — you hesitated.
Chapter 19 — you were ruthless.
I liked that version of you better.

Her lips part. Her stomach tightens in something that isn’t just fear. Anger. Violation. Adrenaline. She types fast.

Who the hell are you?

The response comes instantly.

The person who reads between your lines.

A new window slides open. Dark interface. Red accents.

Username: Void Bio: “Control is an illusion. I prefer access.”

Her pulse skips. She types.

Get out of my system right now.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.

If I wanted to hurt you, Raya…
you wouldn’t even know it was me.

Her name. Not her username. Her actual name.Her throat dries. Another message pops up.

Relax. I didn’t break anything. I just…visited.

Her screen glitches again. And suddenly, her Chapter 27 ending is highlighted. One paragraph circled digitally.

This part. He apologizes too easily. He’s supposed to be dangerous.

Her jaw tightens. She hates that her body reacts to the word dangerous. She types slower this time. 

You don’t get to critique my work.

He replies,

I already did.

Then, Her cursor moves. On its own. Deletes her final three sentences. Her breath catches. The cursor blinks. Waiting. Fix it. Her anger spikes. Make me. There’s a pause. Long enough for tension to thicken.

Then a new message appears.

I like that tone.

her phone buzzes. A notification. New follower: Void New comment on an older chapter:

You write powerful women. Don’t make them fall for weak men.

Her cheeks flush,  not with embarrassment. With something sharper. He’s reading everything. She types again. What do you want? The typing indicator appears slowly this time. Deliberately. To see what you do when someone pushes you back.

The fairy lights flicker. Her WiFi signal drops one bar. Then two. Her screen shifts to her camera. For half a second. Then back. Her heart slams against her ribs.

Stop.

Then he replies 

I’m not recording. You look cuter when you’re angry though.

Her fingers tremble but she refuses to show fear in her typing.

You’re insane. 

No. I’m interested.

Across the city, Red LED lights cut through darkness. A mechanical keyboard clicks in smooth rhythm. Void leans back in his chair. Black t-shirt. Sleeves pushed up. Veins visible along his forearms as his fingers move lazily over keys.

His room is sharp edges and shadows. Three monitors glow.  On one lines of code. On another her draft. On the third her author profile picture.

He tilts his head slightly. Zooms in. Not in a creepy way. In a calculated way. He watches her typing speed fluctuate. He watches the pauses. He can almost feel when she’s breathing faster.

A slow smirk curves his mouth.  Untamed yet Provoking. He types one last message.

Rewrite the ending.
Make him hesitate before he apologizes.
Make him fight himself first.

There’s a pause. He sees the cursor move. She’s typing. Deleting. Typing again. Good. His jaw tightens slightly,  not from anger. From interest. She’s not logging off. She’s not crying. She’s fighting back. His favorite kind. Her screen refreshes.

Chapter 27 updated. He reads the new ending. This time the male lead doesn’t apologize immediately. He steps closer. He grips her wrist. He almost walks away.

Almost.

Void’s eyes darken as he types, 

Better.

Then—

Now imagine writing him when you don’t know who he is.

Her reply comes faster than before. Imagine thinking I scare easily. His smirk deepens. Game on.

He glances once at Raya’s typing activity on the side panel. Still online.

Good.

A slow exhale leaves his lips as the final line of code aligns perfectly. Green check mark. Access granted.

He tilts his head slightly, jaw flexing. “Let’s see how you handle pressure, author.”

He presses Enter. The screen flashes. A system command executes. Across the platform, Accounts begin disappearing. Not deleted. Locked. Suspended. Shadow-banned. One after another. Influencers. Top-ranking authors. Verified profiles. All gone within seconds.

Void leans back in his chair, stretching his neck slowly as a big, unapologetic smirk spreads across his face. 

Chaos is predictable. Panic is louder than screams.

Raya’s phone vibrates. Once. Twice. Then nonstop. Her screen lights up with notification after notification.

Group chat: The Chaos Coven ✨

Lakshi: ARE YOU ALIVE???

Shri: COME HERE RIGHT NOW.

Kritika: RAYA PICK UP YOUR PHONE.

Her stomach twists. She grabs it quickly and types:

Raya: yeah what happened

The typing bubble appears immediately. Then—

Lakshi: All the accounts of Wattpad authors are banned.

Shri: EVERYONE. Big ones. Small ones. Even verified.

Kritika: My timeline is EMPTY.

Raya’s throat goes dry. Her fingers slowly move to her laptop. Refresh. Her homepage looks… wrong. Usernames missing. Profiles unavailable. Stories vanished. Her heart begins to pound.

“No,” she whispers. She types a random author’s username into search. No results found. Her own profile still loads. But the follower count flickers. Drops. Returns. Glitches. Her breathing becomes shallow. This isn’t random. This isn’t a server crash. This is targeted.

Her phone buzzes again. Not the group chat. A direct notification. Unknown number. She hesitates before opening it.

Message preview: Want the accounts back?

Her chest tightens. She opens it. The contact name is saved automatically from earlier.

Void.

Her pulse slams. Another message appears immediately.

Go out on a date with me, sweetheart.

The word sweetheart feels deliberate. Slow. Possessive without claiming. Her jaw tightens. She types back fast. 

You did this?

Seen.

Typing…

Stops.

Typing again.

I didn’t do anything. 

Another message.

I simply… pressed enter.

Her stomach flips. 

Fix it.

His reply comes slower this time. Calculated.

I can.

Pause.

But I don’t work for free.

Her anger spikes through the fear.

You’re insane if you think I’ll go out with you because you hacked a platform.

A pause.Long enough for her heart to hammer painfully in her chest. Then—

Correction.
I didn’t hack it for you.

Her fingers freeze. Another message arrives.

I did it to see if you’d panic.

Her breath catches. Her anger turns sharp.

I’m not panicking.

Across the city, Void chuckles under his breath. Low. Amused. He watches her response time slow by 0.8 seconds. Her typing pressure increases. She’s lying.

He types:

Your heartbeat is faster.

She stares at the screen.

You can’t know that.

You’d be surprised what I can access. Her room suddenly feels smaller. Warmer. Like the air is heavier. Her next message is steadier than she feels.

You think this is attractive?

Three dots. Disappear. Reappear. 

No. 

Pause.

I think you like men who take control.

Her pulse spikes traitorously.

You don’t know me.

I’ve read 27 chapters written at 2 a.m. I know exactly what you fantasise about.

Her cheeks burn. Anger. Embarrassment. Something else. Her phone buzzes again.

Say yes.

Meet me tomorrow.

I will restore any one account.

Her jaw clenches.

And if I say no?

This time the reply is instant.

Then I leave them locked.

Another message follows.

Including yours.

Her breath stutters. Her profile suddenly refreshes. Error. Page not available.

Her stomach drops. Then— It comes back. He’s showing her. Control. Her fingers hover over the keyboard. She refuses to type while emotional.

Void watches the pause stretch. He leans forward now. Elbows on desk. Interest sharpened. “Come on, Raya,” he murmurs to the empty room. “Fight me.”

Her phone vibrates again. Not from him. From Lakshi. RAYA YOUR ACCOUNT IS STILL UP. HOW??? Her throat tightens. She looks back at his message.

Say yes.

She types slowly this time.

Public place.

He smirks.

Of course.

I’m not stupid.

Another message.

7 p.m.
The Glass House Café.

Pause.

Wear your hair down.

Her breath catches.

How do you—

I always know something that y’all don’t 

Her stomach flips violently. Anger. Heat. Violation. Curiosity. All tangled together. She stares at the screen for a long moment. Then types:

Fix it first.

His smirk deepens.

No.

Pause.

Trust is built on risk.

Silence stretches between them.

Her friends’ notifications keep flooding in. Panic rising. Chaos spreading. Her thumb hovers. Then,

Fine.

Sent.

His jaw tightens,  not in victory but In anticipation. He presses a single key. On his monitor, commands reverse. 

Accounts will begin restoring. One by one. He watches her reaction time spike as notifications flood back online.

He types one last message.

Good choice, sweetheart.

Then, 

Try not to fall in love with your villain.

And this time, He logs off first.