It has been hardly one day and she wouldn’t stop dropping letter chits on my desk.

“Just one week.”

“Say yes, asap.”

“I’ll show your video to everyone.”

And so much more.

I’m not even taking her serious at this point. For a reason, I know she won’t dare to do what she claims to.

I don’t want to force her into any argument. But with each passing second, she’s making it impossible for me not to.

Karthik and Aarav are inside the staff room currently for submitting their physics journals.

I was roaming outside mindlessly right beside the staff room waiting for them.

I leaned on the railing, inhaling a deep breath.

The air outside feels... cool and soothing. Plus, we don’t have air conditioners in our class so this outside air is everything we crave for.

I want to forget everything about Rubina.

College has just started and I’d already got enemies to stay away from.

“H-Hridayansh...”

A sweet yet firm voice appeared on my left side.

I turned just slight enough to face the person and simultaneously turned my body towards them.

“Hey, are you okay now?” I asked, stepping forward.
“I’m sorry once again.”

The person in front of me was Ipsita.

I was feeling guilty all over myself, again.

I’m just making enemies everywhere.

“Your handkerchief. Thanks for it,” she said with a subtle smile, holding forward the handkerchief that I gave her yesterday.

“Ahh, you may please keep it. No need to return. That’s simply my compensation of what I did to you,” I muttered, my head hanged a little down in the end.

“Umm I don’t prefer keeping other’s belongings with me,” she spoke.
“Moreover, you were sorry for what happened which wasn’t even caused by you.”

“Do you forgive me?” I look into her eyes with hope.

Not that I want to get close to her. I just want to make good friends for these two years.

“There was nothing for me to stay angry on you,” she said simply, with a light smile and holding forward the handkerchief again for me to receive it.

I gently took it from her hand. Our fingers brushed against each other for a fleeting second.

She left with her same vibrant smile after muttering one last ‘thank-you’.

I held the handkerchief gently, as if I’m holding a memory of her  that has been left on my palms.

It felt more delicate than it was before I gave it to her.

I bought the handkerchief near my face.

Not knowing what I’m trying to do exactly.

I smelled the fragrance.

Swarga samaan anubhaba.

(Pure heaven.)

For the first few seconds, I didn’t realize why was I doing this. But now, I can’t let go of this fragrance.

It wasn’t a fragrance — it was something quieter, softer… the kind that slips past your guard before you notice.

Light and warm, almost weightless, yet it stayed — pulling me in without asking, without reason. For a second, I forgot to hold myself together… and I didn’t even try to stop it.

I looked toward the direction she had come to meet me. It felt... different. The good ‘different’.

Something that I couldn’t deny even if I wish to.

Something that definitely went against my plans, but is worth not worrying about.

“What are you looking at?” Karthik asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

Did they see?

Her and me? Together?

“Maybe our bhabhi?” Aarav said, putting his hand on my other shoulder.

I’m surely dead.

“Yes, your dearest bhabhi,” I muttered, letting go of the topic and trying to get their attention out of it.

“I did it!”

“Congratulations! Tell me everything in detail.”

“So,” I began, clapping my hands together for once. “I saw him standing near the staff room—”

“Alone or with his friends?” She cut me off. This woman is more excited than me.

“Umm... Alone.”

“Yay! Let’s go. Continue,” she chirped.

I had to tell her about Hridayansh. She asked me why I went silent when he bumped on me yesterday.

And as expected, I couldn’t hide my real emotions regarding him. Especially in front of her.

Not that I’m serious about him. Even if I have any chance with him (which I surely won’t but let’s stay in delulu), I still don’t want to be official with him.

The beauty of simply having a crush or experiencing one sided love is that, at least you get to see your favourite person everyday.

At least you have the motivation to come to the college everyday.

At least where just the thought of being together in the same room is enough to make your day.

And I shared all my thoughts like these with Lavanya.

Luckily she did not tease me about it. Or else, you cannot keep this expectation from someone like her.

“He said sorry, again,” I continued.
“And you know what? He wanted me to keep his handkerchief with me as a compensation for the accident.”

“Green forest, period,” she said, snapping her fingers twice in the air.

“He really is one of a kind,” I said with a smile, somewhere lost in my own world.

“Why don’t you approach him?” she asked, thoughtfully looking at me.

“I’m out of his league!” I responded back, quickly.

She gave me a weird look so I knew I’ll have to explain this to her.

“He’s so fine. So good-looking. So handsome. And way too good for me. He seems like he would make a brand new girlfriend every week and hang out with them in cafeteria and bars,” I explained, frowning at the thought.

“He’s a topper, Ips. He might not even be getting time for himself,” she said, trying to coax me.

Lavanya is also right. Toppers really don’t get time for themselves. So when would they think about love and relationships.

But on the other hand, I strongly feel that he would never look upon me in that way...

“I just want things to stay like you know,” I muttered, with a smile hiding the slight pain in my eyes.

“So we have a one-sided lover among us huh,” Lavanya smiled lightly.

“That’s what I am. For now," I sighed.

“Good for you, until you get hurt by any means. I won’t bear that. Did you understand?” she asked, almost poking her index finger into my eyes.

“Understood, my highness.”

Later that day, we revealed my teeny tiny crush to Taarini. Lavanya was the narrator here, adding her own masala mix and trying to make it sound as dramatic as she can. And I was just there feeling shy and occasionally slapping on Lavanya’s back.

Taarini had a similar reaction. She was happy for me and wished me and Hridayansh to get together soon.

Impossible.

Yet I assured her.

We walked to our homes together. Chit-chatting, gossiping and sharing teas of both classes with each other.

Female friendships are really everything every woman craves for. After my bestie who’s still with me since nursery, I found a safe comfort space with these two girls.

We surely are not together since a long time, but like they say, friends you make while adulting understand you like no one else.

The week passed on like that. All three of us chilling with each other in evenings after college and visiting each other’s homes and families almost everyday.

And the best part? Our mothers have also become friends because of us. Our fathers too meet each other sometimes, but they surely cannot match the energy of the mothers.

They meet on Saturdays. In the supermarket. So while buying groceries, they have good time gossiping (mostly about us).

Lavanya’s mum is very sweet. Unlike Lavanya. But I love both of them. One knows when and how to talk and the other is simply straightforward.

And Taarini’s mum is exactly like Taarini.

(Better to say Taarini is exactly like her mum.)

Taarini inherited that sweet and soft nature of hers from her mum. Her mum is also a bit shy, but when she’s with other the two, her shyness fades away in an instant.

It feels amazing to see our families get together and connect so well because of us. And one huge advantage we’ve got due to this is that, we can stay with each other till late night just by saying at home that we are together.

That’s all our families would need to hear. And they never scolded us.

We are soon planning to have a group study at my home. And even a sleepover.

They say you get better options in dating people when you get into college, but I’d rather say you get the best female friendships that you’ve never thought you’d need them in your life.

One week later

It was such an awkward situation.

My phone is in such a situation that I’ve already exited Instagram and opened Canva, but it’s showing half of both the apps. Not even any one is getting closed or open fully.

Cherry on top, I was watching Splitsvilla X6 on Instagram reels.

If Hridayansh peeps into my phone right now, I’ll be doomed.

We are sitting inside a fancy cafe with white sauce pasta in front of him and almost a five floor layered burger in front of me.

We were supposed to find ideas for our first English presentation on the History of Novels.

Hridayansh proposed we should come to this cafe after college for discussing ideas.

And here I was, watching Splitsvilla and him scrolling the whole Google and ChatGPT ignoring the food in front of him.

I would have devoured on my burger way before if it was not him present here.

But I’m actually regretting to order this huge burger. I cannot open such a big mouth in front of him to eat this burger.

It’s really going to be embarrassing.

“Did you find anything interesting?” he asked suddenly.

I looked at my phone under the table.

It’s finally switched off. I’d been trying to do that since seven minutes.

“Y-Yeah, I’m searching...” I uttered.

I quickly switched on my phone and luckily it was working fine.

“Let’s eat first, hmm?” he said.

God.

No.

I can’t with this man.

That ‘hmm’ was so measured and languid.

Like it knew what it was doing to me.

“Ipsita?”

He called my name softly.

“Uhh... Huh?” I gulped down a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Let’s eat first?” He asked again, this time with a more softer voice.
“Our food might get cold.”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I whispered, wiping away the sweat beads from my palms under the table.

I’m way too embarrassed to even look at this huge burger in front of me.

How I can make such a grave mistake?

I’d already imagine Lavanya beating the hell out of me for this mistake.

I can actually remove all the stuffings inside this burger and eat the bread and stuffings separately.

That’s what I do when I eat burgers. Alone.

I could have done this in front of Lavanya and Taarini, too.

But not him.

I know he’ll judge me.

Hard.

He was already prepared to eat his white sauce pasta. Meanwhile, I still had no idea how I was going to eat this huge burger.

Anyway, I began.

Occasionally glancing at him (or better say, keeping an eye on him so that I can ensure he isn’t looking at me), I lifted up the burger, pressing it against a handful of tissue papers.

First bite.

Crunch.

And smudge.

I know what I did.

He was still into his white sauce pasta. But I fear, what if he looks at me at this very moment?

She quickly picked up a bunch of tissue papers.

I could clearly see the embarrassment on her face, but I avoid looking at her.

Because for a reason, I know it would just make things worse for her.

The moment she ordered that burger, I knew this was bound to happen.

Regret was the only emotion spread across her light pinkish face.

And at that moment, I thought she genuinely wanted to eat that burger and so, I did not say anything to stop her.

Her face is half red and half white.

Red due to the excess tomato sauce that she poured above the burger and white because of the mayonnaise inside the burger.

I tried not to bother, but as I glanced upon her messy self, I swiftly passed on the extra tissue papers box towards her, pretending to be busy eating my own pasta.

I think she didn’t see me glancing at her when she probably wished for me not to.

There was absolutely nothing to get embarrassed. Burgers are always messy. No matter the size.

And according to some (source: Instagram reels) theory, if you order burger when you’re out wioth someone, it’s a gesture you convey to that person that you’re comfortable with them.

I know in my case this theory cannot be true.

“Thanks,” she whispered, high enough only for me to hear.

I smiled a bit to quietly acknowledge her.

After that, she tried to cover her mouth with those tissue papers and eat her burger behind them.

I did not look at her for the second time, hoping not to make her feel uncomfortable.

The silence stretching between us felt a bit unsettling. Either of us should speak and come up with some engaging topic.

“How many friends have you made in our class?” I started, hoping it would be enough to fill the silence.

Her doe eyes shot up to mine. She took a second or two, neatly placed her half finished burger down and wiped the sauce on her lips.

“Not many yet,” she gulped.
“I’m familiar with all the girls and I’d made one close friend who’s my bench partner.”

“And in boys?” I asked, thoughtfully.

She blinked once. Twice.

And a subtle smile spread across her pink lips.

She lifted her free hand’s index finger and pointed it towards me.

It took me a second to realize what she meant. But I laughed it off amusingly and acknowledged her humour.

We resumed eating as the atmosphere around us turned lighter and more comforting.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I know many people,” I answered.
“Almost all the boys and...”

I put my index finger pointing her as she did a while before.

Her giggles filled the room with more positivity and comfort.

I’m really content to meet such a person like her.

Later that evening, we went to a nearby park and talked a lot about college and classmates.

She told me how strict is her mother that she wouldn’t allow her to meet me to discuss about presentation and hence she stayed after college (since we had a half day today).

She gossiped about how mean and full of attitude the girls of our class are and how she found her first friend, Lavanya Tripathi, amongst them.

It was all fun and amusing watching her rant about random topics.

I, too, shared with her how the boys of our class are. From whom you can keep good distance and to whom you can approach and be friends.

She seemed to be very invested in whatever I was speaking and listened very carefully.

We had barely discussed anything about the presentation.

Yet, it felt so right.

Her company was right.

Indeed, we’ll have to meet a few more times to actually start discussing about the presentation.

We also ate an ice-cream before parting our ways. It was late. She got multiple calls from her mother to know where she was.

It was really adorable to see her making up situations and excuses for justifying why she was getting late.

This meet-up was really worth it.

Next Day,

“We can write these,” she said, pointing towards an article on her laptop.
“In pointers.”

“Scroll more. This might not be enough,” I suggested.
“I’ll get a notebook and write down a rough flow of our PPT in short.”

She nodded once. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard of her laptop continously.

Last night, we decided to meet one hour before college today to begin making the PPT slides.

We were easily done with the beginning 2-3 slides, but paused for a while to gather data for further ones.

I got up from my seat and walked towards my bag to grab a rough notebook.

“Hridayansh,” she called.
“Look what I got.”

“Coming,” I answered her.

I found a notebook which I could use for writing down random things.

Tug!

Oh no.

My watch caught a small thread from the chain of my bag.

Come on, universe. It had to happen at this moment?

I tried to pull it out aggressively.

Only for my bag to deform itself around that area.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

I sat down on my place and slowly tried to take the thread off my watch.

“Hridayansh,” Ipsita called me, again.

“Just a minute.”

I think I’ll have to call her here to sort this out.

“No, your phone is ringing,” she said.

Who could it be now?

Maybe Karthik?

“Who is it?” I asked, a little louder since we are in the same class but a distance.

“Some unknown number,” she replied.

“Can you please answer it for me?”

“Sure.”

I focused back on removing the strong thread from my watch.

Luckily, I freed it from my watch within a few seconds. Or else I was about to sacrifice either my watch or my bag.

Grabbing my notebook, I walked towards the place we were sitting.

“I’m back—”

“Hridayansh,” she spoke, her voice sounded like she was scared.

“Yeah? Who was it?” I asked, pointing on my phone that she was holding tight.

She looked into my eyes, hers already blinking in confusion.

“Look,” she said, passing me the phone.
“Was it a spam?”

On my phone, recent call logs app was displaying.

I looked carefully at the phone number.

Unfamiliar.

I wanted to let it go. But the fear in Ipsita’s eyes didn’t let me.

Before I ask her what did the caller person said, I rushed to the Truecaller app on my phone.

From my peripheral vision, I could see Ipsita breathing heavily and gulping hard.

I’m really getting tensed up now.

“Rubina Behera.”

The caller ID read.

I closed my eyes furiously.

Maybe I shouldn’t have let Ipsita receive this call...

This is not something she should have known about.

Letting out a sharp breath, my eyes landed on Ipsita.

She was still looking at me with those eyes full of worry and fear.

She must be scared. And my reaction might be making it worse.

“What did this caller person talk to you?” I asked slowly, trying not to show the real hatred burning inside me.

She gulped down the breath she was holding since the beginning.

“It was some girl talking about some video of yours that she would post online and...” she sobbed.
“And the whole college would see.”

Same thing.

Again.

“Hridayansh,” she cried.
“I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. But please tell me this was a spam call.”

My heart wrenched looking at her condition. She not even related to it, yet she was here, worried and actually crying.

“Ipsita, look at me,” I said slowly.
“This was not a spam call.”

I’d decided to tell her.

Maybe she could help.

I do not care what she thinks about me after this confession.

“This girl,” I said, pointing towards my phone.
“...is from our own class.”

Her brows furrowed and the fear from eyes vanished in a second.

“A few days ago, in the short span of two minutes that we get between two lectures, she was talking and clicking pictures with her friends group near that window where sunlight enters after around 3 PM. My eyes just... noticed her. I didn’t realize I kept looking at her. Not creepily. But in a way when you admire someone’s beauty...”

I paused for a second. Letting her sink that in.

“She made a video of me, looking at her that day. Probably one of her friends did. And now she wants me to be her boyfriend for three weeks or she’ll post that video of mine putting fake allegations on me,” I explained.

“Three weeks?!” Ipsita scoffed.
“I truly despise these type of girls!”

I sighed.

“So, what are you planning to do?” she asked.

“I cannot think of anything. Boys can handle boys well. Not girls.”

She hummed in thinking.

“Wait,” she said.
“What did you say?”

“What?” I asked.

“Now. Just now.”

“I cannot of anything...?”

“No no. After that.”

“Boys can handle boys well.”

“And girls can handle girls well,” she said, with a light smirk playing on her lips.

I didn’t believe in revenge.

Not the loud kind, at least.

Screaming, hair-pulling, dramatic confrontations in crowded hallways?

Messy. Ineffective. Temporary.

What I believed in… was balance.

And right now, Rubina had tipped it too far.

It’s been three days since Hridayansh told me about Rubina.

Rubina. The bad bitch.

That’s what Lavanya, Taarini and I call her.

That day, he told me many more things about Rubina. How she used to leave chits on his desk, call him from different phone numbers, and consistently forced him to date her.

I really don’t understand from where these type of girls from come?

We, as women, or at least me, don’t claim her as one of us.

I promised Hridayansh that I would handle Rubina.

Lavanya helped me getting deeper connections of our college. From professors to seniors. We had access to a good range of people.

Taarini was good in handling and connecting with people through social media, which was the major part of our plan.

We had spread false narratives against Rubina and her relationships till date.

Lavanya suggested the famous confession pages of our college on Instagram to begin with our plan. She got contacts of the admins handling those pages and provided them with all the materials to be posted against Rubina.

Meanwhile, Taarini and I made fake communities on Instagram and made sure to connect with the whole college and defame Rubina. We’d also came to know about a few ex-boyfriends of Rubina and got real spicy narratives to help us gain attention of the college.

For the next few days, we simply kept posting weird rumours about her. Most of them were real.

The reason why we took all this effort was not just Hridayansh, but also all those people who have been affected by Rubina. Directly and indirectly.

The exes of Rubina, with whom we got into contact anonymously, shared with us many disturbing and shameful revelations about her. With evidences.

We just gave a chance and a platform to them.

Whatever we did, the results showed up instantly.

As if the college is watching us. With interest.

The way conversations paused when she walked in. The way eyes lingered a second too long. The way someone laughed… then quickly looked away.

Doubt is quiet.

But it spreads like wildfire.

She had no idea who was behind all this mess.

And that was the lovely part.

I didn’t believe in revenge.

But I did believe in consequences.

And this?

This was just the beginning of hers.

What she did was unworthy of forgiveness. She needs to taste her own medicine.

She tried everything she could.

She even approached the Cyber Cell and our Principal Madam.

But nothing worked.

“Did you see her today?” Lavanya whispered beside me, barely containing her satisfaction.

We sat on the grass of the green playground, which was right in front of our college building.

I didn’t respond immediately.

I was watching. Observing.

Because this was the difference between revenge and strategy.

Revenge is loud. Strategy knows when to stop.

“She’s breaking,” Taarini murmured, scrolling through her phone.
“Comments are getting worse. People are digging up everything.”

I glanced at the screen.

Anonymous confessions. Blurred screenshots. And speculations layered over half-truths.

A perfect storm.

And we had built it.

For a moment — just a moment — something inside me stilled.

Not guilt.

No.

Something colder.

Awareness.

“Enough,” I said.

Both of them looked at me.

“What?” Lavanya frowned.
“Now? We’re just getting started.”

“No,” I corrected calmly. “We’re done.”

Taarini tilted her head. “You sure?”

I nodded.

Because I had already seen the shift.
That evening, before the last lecture, I found Rubina.

Not in the corridors.

Not in the canteen.

But near the back staircase — quiet, almost hidden.

Of course. People retreat when the world gets too loud.

She looked up when she heard my footsteps.

And for the first time Rubina didn’t look intimidating.

She looked… tired. Cornered.

“You.”

Her voice was hoarse, stripped of its usual sharpness.

I leaned against the railing, crossing my arms loosely.

“Me?”

Silence.

Thick. Uneasy.

“Do you know anything about who’s doing this to me?” she asked finally, vigorously scrolling through one of the confession pages we choose to spread rumours about her.

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, I studied her.

The slight tremble in her fingers.

The way her eyes darted — calculating, searching.

She might already be knowing.

Or at least, she suspected enough.

“Does it matter?” I said quietly.

Her jaw tightened.

“It does to me.”

I pushed myself off the railing and stepped closer.

Not threatening. Not aggressive.
Just… certain.

“I thought you were one of those who would show empathy, or at least take a stand. For the sake of being a girl. But the way you’re behaving right now—”

“Tell me something, Rubina,” I cut her in the middle, my voice even. “When you forced Hridayansh… did it matter to you whether you did the right thing or the wrong?”

Her lips parted.

“How do you know about it?” she asked fearfully.

“Doesn’t matter. Did you just like the power?” I continued. “The attention. The way one sentence from you could turn people against him?”

Her breathing faltered.

There it was.

Recognition.

“This” I gestured vaguely the air around us, as if the entire college existed in that moment, “...this is what that feels like.”

A pause.

“Amplified.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back quickly.

“I didn’t think it would go this far,” she whispered.

“Neither did he,” I replied.

Soft. Yet sharp. And final.

Another silence. But this one was different. It wasn’t filled with tension. It was filled with understanding.

And regret.

“I’ll fix it,” she said suddenly. “I’ll tell everyone. I’ll clear his name and delete the video. I won’t threaten him any more. I’ll confess what I did.”

I held her gaze.

“You will,” I agreed. “Clearly. Publicly. No half-truths.”

She nodded.

“And this?” she asked, her voice smaller now. “Will it stop?”

I watched her for a long second, looking right into her eyes.

“Yes.”

Because this was never about destroying her. It was about making her stop.

And the next day, we made sure the confession pages changed tone.

Clarifications appeared. Old posts, storied and screenshots disappeared. New narratives emerged.

And just like that — the storm faded.

People moved on. They always do.

But Rubina didn’t go back to who she was.

And that was enough.

Sometimes you have to become the storm…

Just long enough to remind someone why they should never create one again.

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