Megh- a sanctuary of deaths of her own pieces, a museum of what she used to be- believed in not believing in love. Especially when she wanted someone without scars. But do they really justify love? Do they really matter if she loves someone beyond their marked skin? Her own wounds were unhealed, how could she even caress someone else's?She didn't know the cure, she didn't believe it either. It was rare, impossible to have from where she lived, so, she built defenses against it. But, sometimes, cures do come anyway, breaking all the walls she had trusted protected her. And everything she feared of happening, happened. Diganta- love is what he believed, care is all he knew- had scar, one or many, hidden or open. If the past itself could be one, then he carried a massive one. The ghost of what haunted him for a long time, the ghost he didn't want to hide from anyone who desired to look at his wound. But he knew the cure, he knew how it would look like when it came and he did search for it. A part of him had died, he was glad that it did. Maybe this version was better, or maybe not? And everything he once dreamt of happening, happened. Funny, how love touches everyone so differently. Some fear it, while some invite. Ironic, how it can both be the scar and the cure. But does it always come with that two? And nothing else? It does, it definitely does. Jealously, Isn't it? Do people really kill for love, not jealousy? This story is a reality, a reality of the hearts, the human emotions. But that reality has a twist. A twist of fate and luck. A twist of despair and hope. And somewhere silently, violently, all her defenses break, turn into weapons she didn't know she needed. Would she kill? And if she did, would her defenses build back? And he? Would he still be there? With her, next to her, holding her bloody hands? Or, does he kill someone too? And the equation completes. Both are with flaws, secrets they need to hide- from the world, not from eachother.