Shams reached his apartment, fully drenched. Rainwater dripped from his soaked clothes, his shawl clinging to his body. Without a word, he tossed it aside and stepped into the house. The rain outside was relentless—almost punishing.
Inside, two other boys were lounging. They had returned as the off-day had ended yesterday.
> "Hey Shams, where were you all this time?" Johir asked, raising an eyebrow. "I swear, at this rate, the whole city's gonna flood!"
> "Change your clothes, bro," Shahin added. "You'll catch a fever."
Shams gave a slight nod, grabbed a dry t-shirt and a lungi, and headed to the bathroom. Steam soon filled the space as he took a quick, warm shower.
When he came out, towel drying his hair, the room shifted.
**He looked effortlessly handsome—**like he'd walked straight out of a movie. His wet hair curled slightly on his forehead, his sharp jawline glistened faintly, and under the light, the faint outline of his six-pack abs showed through the thin cotton shirt. It wasn't something he tried to show off—but it was there, undeniable.
The two boys froze for a moment.
> "Man… why are you this handsome?" Shahin muttered, half-jealous.
> "Seriously, did Allah pour all the handsomeness just into you?" Johir said with a grin.
Shams smiled playfully.
> "What can I say… if Allah made me like this, am I supposed to refuse it?"
They all laughed.
Shams dropped onto his bed, picking up his old button phone. He never used a smartphone—thought they were just distractions. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said,
> "I think I should call father… he must be worried. I didn't go home this week."
He dialed. The ringtone buzzed in the quiet room.
Ring… Ring… Click.
A calm but confused voice answered on the other end.
> "Hello… who is this?"
Shams smiled softly.
> "It's me, father. Shams."
Suddenly, an explosion of emotion came from the phone.
> "You monkey! Where have you been these two days?! Not even a single call!"
> "S-sorry, father," Shams replied sheepishly. "I was a little busy this week… couldn't make it home."
His father's voice got louder.
> "You monkey! Who even is your father?! I don't have a son who forgets his own father!"
Then, after a brief pause… his voice softened. The anger melted into something raw—vulnerable.
> "Shams… you should've called me at least once. You don't know how worried I was. If something happened to you… I would've lost everything. You're the last person I have... the last one I love."
Shams lowered his gaze, guilt flickering in his eyes.
> "I'm sorry, father… I'll never do it again."
His father sighed.
> "Okay… just focus on your studies now. Don't get involved in whatever this 'Battle for Growth' thing is. The government already said we're not joining."
> "Y-yes, father. Don't worry about me."
Click.
The call ended.
The rain still hammered the windows.
But inside, for a brief moment… things felt quieter.
After the call ended, silence fell over the room—just the sound of heavy rain tapping against the glass.
Johir and Shahin both came and sat beside Shams on the bed.
> "Aren't you going to study today?" Johir asked casually, glancing at the clock.
> "Nah," Shams replied, staring blankly ahead. "I'm not in the mood."
He leaned back, resting against the wall, eyes unfocused. But deep inside, his mind was racing.
> Bangladesh rejected the Battle for Growth…
> So what now?
He remembers in the divine message which everyone heard directly in their minds. The part that stood out the most echoed loud and clear:
> "To participate in Battle for Growth, every nation must create a chip. That chip is the key."
> "It is the government's duty to create this chip."
Shams narrowed his eyes.
> "Government's duty... but it never said that only the government can make it."
His heart skipped a beat. He sat up a little straighter.
> "If someone else makes it, if it's anyone from Bangladesh… it still counts."
He whispered to himself:
> "It would be considered as Bangladesh's participation…"
> "Even if the government denied it… if someone from here made the chip… it would be like rebelling against the system…"
A slow smirk formed on his face—but it faded quickly, replaced by a thoughtful frown.
> "But who could make something like that? The chip formula… it's in everyone's mind, even in mine. But just because the formula is there doesn't mean people can build it."
He ran his hand through his damp hair, eyes now serious.
> "There is… one person."
His eyes lit up as he remembered someone.
> "Yeah… that guy The scent of wet pavement flashed in his mind—a memory of their last meeting he's not a scientist… but he's not normal either. He's an exception."
He stood up suddenly.
> "But even if he can build it… will it count? Will it be considered as Bangladesh's participation if a single, rogue citizen builds the chip?"
He stared out the window. Rain blurred the world outside.
Shams was on the edge of a decision that could change the future of his entire nation.
Shams suddenly stood up, determination flashing in his eyes.
> "Before anything else... I need to talk to Miraz."
He grabbed his old button phone from the bedside table.
Tap... Tap... Tap...
But the moment he opened his contacts, his expression twisted—irritated, confused, and a little embarrassed.
> "Ah, sht*… I forgot to save his number."
He let out a sigh, scratching the back of his head, clearly frustrated.
Across the room, Johir and Shahin had been quietly watching the whole thing, like background comedians in a drama.
They leaned toward each other and whispered with a grin.
> "Bro... is Shams okay today?"
> "I don't know... Maybe he finally got a girlfriend?"
They both burst into muffled laughter, trying to keep it down.
> "Wise men say… when a man finds love, he turns into a certified lunatic."
They chuckled again, watching Shams pace around with his confused face.
Shams shot them a look.
> "Hey! What's so funny?"
They both quickly straightened up.
> "Nothing, bro. Nothing at all."
But the moment Shams turned away, the giggles returned.
Shams ignored them, now pacing the room.
> I need to find Miraz... no matter what.