Monday morning carried an eerie stillness as if the air itself knew something was about to change.

The corridors of school buzzed with the usual chatter, but for four students—seated silently in the last row of Class 11 Commerce—it wasn’t just another day. Eyes shifted subtly, scanning movements. Notes were passed with the precision of spies, and every smirk or glance was calculated.

Phase 1 was live.

Ridrakshika sat upright, eyes fixed ahead, but her fingers tapped a silent rhythm on her desk—an unspoken signal. Adyansh, beside her, cracked his knuckles casually and gave the smallest nod. Across the row, Esha tightened her ponytail like a soldier suiting up. Sanskaar, leaning back with his signature smirk, murmured under his breath, “And the game begins.”

After the first period, the group slipped out with perfectly timed excuses—library work, teacher's call, bathroom break. In reality, their destination was the Media Room storage, where they had planted a hidden recorder behind a shelf the day before. That room—once the setting for the threatening message Ridrakshika had received—was key to cracking Tanisha’s next move.

Adyansh crouched down, pulling out the small device. He pressed play.

Muffled voices. Static. Then—

“Are you sure this will work?”

“It has to. She’s getting too comfortable.”

“What if someone sees—”

“Then make sure they don’t.”

Ridrakshika's heart skipped. That second voice. Familiar. Sweet on the surface, but sugar can coat poison too.

Tanisha.

Esha gasped softly, clutching Sanskaar’s arm. “It’s her,” she whispered.

Adyansh didn’t blink. His jaw clenched as he looked up at Ridrakshika, their eyes meeting for a split second longer than necessary. “We’ve got her,” he said quietly.

But Ridrakshika wasn’t smiling. Her instincts screamed that this was only the beginning.

Just then, the school bell rang.

Phase 2 had to start—and it would happen in plain sight.

----

Lunchtime.

The canteen buzzed with clattering trays and idle gossip, but at Table 5—by the far window—the atmosphere was electric. The OG Four sat in perfect formation. Ridrakshika and Adyansh on one side, Esha and Sanskaar on the other. Anyone looking would’ve seen four teenagers casually eating sandwiches and fries.

No one saw the plan unraveling beneath the surface.

Phase 2: The Bait.

Sanskaar checked his watch. "T-minus four minutes," he muttered, pretending to yawn.

“Hope she bites,” Esha whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and shooting a brief glance toward the far corner of the canteen.

Tanisha.

Clad in a crisp uniform, surrounded by her minions, she was sipping cold coffee like nothing in the world could touch her. Untouchable. Unbothered.

Exactly how they wanted her.

Ten minutes earlier, Ridrakshika had slipped a fake note into Tanisha’s locker during break—one that mimicked the style of the threatening messages she'd sent.

 “Change of plans. Meet at the AV Room. Alone. 1:30 p.m. sharp. Someone knows. Don’t screw this up.”

Her expression when she’d read the note was exactly what they'd hoped for—tight-lipped panic veiled under controlled composure.

Now, she was pretending to be calm. But her fingers twitched slightly as she checked her phone again and again.

Bait taken.

Adyansh leaned toward Ridrakshika, voice low. “She’ll go.”

Ridrakshika didn't look away from her plate. “She has to.”

Sanskaar tapped his foot under the table. “Camera feed’s ready. You guys just say the word.”

Esha exhaled slowly. “Let’s catch a devil in the act.”

They waited.

At exactly 1:27, Tanisha stood up. No words to her group. No excuses. Just picked up her phone and walked off.

Sanskaar smirked. “Showtime.”

----

“The trap was set. But the prey had teeth.”

The old storage room was dimly lit, tension thick as fog. Adyansh, Ridrakshika, Sanskaar, and Esha huddled around the laptop, eyes glued to the grainy live feed streaming from the hidden camera inside the AV room.

Tanisha had walked in exactly on time—perfectly according to plan.

“She’s here,” Sanskaar whispered.

On the screen, Tanisha paused near the projector table. Her expression was unreadable—casual, almost bored.

"Why’s she just standing there?" Esha murmured, brows knitted.

“She knows something,” Ridrakshika said coldly, arms crossed. “She’s not stupid.”

Suddenly, Tanisha pulled out her phone and placed it on the table, then began pacing—like she was waiting.

Adyansh leaned closer. “Mic's on?”

Sanskaar nodded. “Everything’s live. Camera, audio, both recording.”

Just then, the screen glitched. A few seconds of static—then black.

Everyone froze.

“What the hell?” Sanskaar hissed, frantically typing.

“No, no, no. Don’t tell me—” Ridrakshika leaned in. “Don’t tell me we lost the feed!”

“Something’s interfering,” Sanskaar muttered. “The signal just—disappeared.”

Esha’s eyes widened. “Did she find the camera?”

Adyansh clenched his jaw. “Or maybe she never walked into the trap at all.”

Before they could say more, a ping rang from Sanskaar’s phone.

Message from the Head Boy group:

URGENT: Someone just found a threatening note in Meher’s locker. Authorities involved.

The four of them stared at each other.

“What?” Ridrakshika breathed. “What is this—?”

Sanskaar opened the attached photo.

A threatening note. Same handwriting as the earlier ones. Same style. Same message pattern. But this time, Meher’s locker. With her fingerprints.

“No way,” Esha whispered. “This can’t be—”

Ridrakshika’s heart dropped. Her voice came out strained. “That note format… that’s identical to mine. But why—Meher?”

A second message came in.

“CCTV footage also shows Meher near the AV room yesterday. Investigation started.”

“What the—” Adyansh looked up, eyes burning. “She just flipped everything.”

“She planted everything on Meher,” Sanskaar said grimly. “She knew we were watching her. So she made Meher the fall guy.”

Ridrakshika staggered back, hands on her temples. “No, no—this doesn’t make sense. Meher couldn’t have—she wouldn't—”

Esha placed a hand on her shoulder. “Rishu, calm down.”

“She played us,” Adyansh said bitterly. “She was never the prey. She was the one laying bait.”

Ridrakshika’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And we fell for it.”

---

Cut to: Tanisha walking through the school corridor.

She smirked as she passed a teacher murmuring about Meher’s “disturbing behavior.” Her expression was calm—almost innocent—but her eyes gleamed with victory.

From her bag, she quietly removed a small signal jammer. Just enough to knock out Sanskaar’s cheap hidden camera setup for five minutes.

“Idiots. So easy to predict.”

And then, just before turning the corner, she sent one last message from a fake ID to the school authorities:

“Check locker no. 17. She’s not as innocent as she looks.”

She put her phone away and disappeared into the hallway—unbothered, untouched, and several steps ahead.

---

Back in the storage room, Ridrakshika sat down heavily on the bench, her face pale.

“We had one shot,” she muttered. “And she erased it like it never happened.”

Adyansh looked at her, eyes stormy. “Then we regroup. We go again. But this time—we make sure she doesn’t see it coming.”

The game wasn’t over.

But for now, Tanisha was winning.

----

The laptop lid snapped shut with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ridrakshika stood up abruptly, her hands clenched into fists. Her breath came out in sharp bursts—controlled, but barely.

Adyansh was still seated, elbows on his knees, staring at the blank screen like he could will it to undo the last ten minutes.

She turned toward him, voice laced with ice.

“Congratulations, mastermind. Apna trap khud pe hi lag gaya.”

Adyansh looked up slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Not now, Ridrakshika.”

“Oh, right. Because the great Adyansh Sachdeva never messes up. It’s always someone else’s fault, right?” she snapped, sarcasm practically dripping.

“I said not now.” His voice was lower now—dangerous, simmering.

But she didn’t stop.

“You were so confident. ‘I’ve got a plan, she won’t see it coming’—well guess what? She saw everything coming. And we’re back at square one with Meher on the line and Tanisha walking like it’s a damn fashion show.”

Adyansh stood now, towering over her. His tone was calm—but icy.

“If you’re done venting, maybe try thinking for once. You think I don’t care? You think this doesn’t piss me off?”

Ridrakshika’s eyes flared.

“Oh please. You looked more annoyed that the footage glitched than the fact that someone’s being framed for something she didn’t do!”

He stepped forward.

“I care. I just don’t panic like you. We lost today. Fine. We learn. We don’t spiral.”

“Easy for you to say when it’s not your name that was on the last threat. When it’s not you they’re trying to push down the stairs!" 

Silence.

For a second, Adyansh didn’t reply. His jaw clenched, and he looked away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—but sharp.

“Don’t you dare think I don’t care.”

That caught her off guard.

But she didn’t let it show.

She turned away, grabbing her bag.

“You care in theory. I care because I’m living it.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving Adyansh alone—staring after her with a mix of guilt, anger… and something deeper.

Something he didn’t want to name.

------

Ridrakshika’s shoes echoed in the silence as she stormed out of the storage room, her mind still burning from the exchange with Adyansh.

“He cares? Huh. Mujhe samajh aa gaya, sabko bas theory me care krna aata hai.”

She turned a corner, heading toward the back stairwell—her shortcut to the exit.

But something was off.

The usually locked Science Lab door was wide open.

Her brows furrowed. Odd.

And then she saw it—a trail of broken glass shards just inside the room.

"What the hell...?"

Curiosity overruled logic. She stepped inside.

The lab lights flickered to life as she entered. It looked wrecked—equipment tossed over, cabinets open, a few beakers shattered on the floor.

Suddenly, behind her—the door slammed shut.

Ridrakshika jumped, spinning around.

“Koi hai?”

No reply.

Her heart thumped faster. She reached for her phone—but just then, a loud beep echoed from the projector.

The screen came alive, flickering static... and then—

CCTV footage.

Of her.

It was her, from earlier today, walking down this very corridor.

Then another clip: her entering the lab.

Then... a forged time-stamped video showing her apparently tossing over beakers, trashing the equipment.

“What the—?!”

She stared in horror. The real-time destruction hadn’t even happened when she passed by earlier—and now it was edited to look like she’d done it.

A robotic voice from the projector speaker echoed:

“Smile for the frame, Miss Perfect. Let’s see how fast your friends believe this version.”

Her blood ran cold.

The projector shut off.

And within seconds, the door burst open.

Two prefects and a teacher entered, breathless.

Their eyes widened at the mess—and then narrowed at her standing right in the middle of it.

“Ridrakshika?” the teacher asked, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

Her mouth opened—but no words came out.

She was being framed.

Flawlessly.

And she had no idea how to prove otherwise.

From the corridor, Tanisha watched silently, a satisfied smirk on her face.

------

The air in the lab was thick—with fumes, shattered glass, and sharper accusations.

Ridrakshika stood in the center, the target of every gaze. Her hands were slightly trembling, but her chin stayed lifted.

The teacher’s voice rang out sharply.

“Miss Ridrakshika, do you have any explanation for this nonsense?”

A murmur rippled through the room as students peeked through the half-open lab door. Whispers grew louder.

“New admission aur attitude dekho…”

“Attention-seeker much?”

“Pehle din se hi problem hai is ladki mein…”

Before Ridrakshika could respond, Sanskaar stepped forward, voice firm, eyes steady.

“Excuse me, ma’am. She wasn’t even alone long enough to do all this. Hum log abhi thodi der pehle tak sab ek saath the.”

Esha, who had just entered breathless, stood next to him.

“And seriously? Do you really think she’d do this? She literally didn’t even know where the lab storeroom keys were this morning.”

The teacher narrowed her eyes at Ridrakshika again, unimpressed.

“She was the last person seen in here. Circumstantial or not, facts matter.”

Ridrakshika clenched her jaw, her voice tight.

“I didn’t do this. Someone is trying to set me up.”

A few students laughed under their breath. And just then—

Tanisha stepped into the lab, arms crossed, looking every bit the composed student leader.

“Set up?” she repeated mockingly. “Oh please. Kitna convenient excuse hai. I mean, sab kuch destroy hoke sirf aap bachi ho. Classic.”

She let her eyes scan the room slowly before smirking.

“New admission ho, samajh sakte hain. But tumhara school drama yahaan nahi chalega, sweetheart. This is not your personal stage.”

A few more chuckles. The teacher didn't interrupt.

Ridrakshika opened her mouth, but her words caught in her throat. She could feel it—the walls closing in.

And then, for the first time, Adyansh spoke. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, having watched everything in silence.

His tone was calm. Sharp.

“There’s no point in playing the blame game. Lab ke bahar CCTV camera hai. Footage check karna chahiye. That’ll tell us who entered and when.”

The entire room fell quiet.

Tanisha turned to him, expression slightly strained.

“You really think it’ll show something?”

He shrugged, impassive.

“We won’t know unless we check, right?”

No emotion. No defense. Just cold logic.

Ridrakshika looked at him briefly—trying to read him. Was he on her side? Was he just being rational? Or was this another move in his ongoing indifference?

She didn’t know.

----

Ridrakshika stormed out of the lab. She didn’t care where she was going—she just needed air. Space. Silence.

She halted near the stairwell, heart pounding, hands curled into fists.

Her mind was a mess.

"Pehle vo note... ab ye science lab drama?!"

It felt like someone had pressed replay on her life’s worst nightmares—except now they were happening in daylight, in front of everyone.

“Why is this happening to me?” she muttered under her breath, voice hoarse.

“What did I even do? I don’t even know anyone here well enough for them to hate me this much!”

She leaned against the wall, eyes blinking rapidly. For a second, it felt like the ground beneath her was slipping—like no one believed her, and nothing was in her control.

But then—

She inhaled sharply, shoulders squaring.

Her reflection in the glass window beside her caught her attention. Her eyes—still burning with anger. Her posture—wounded, but not broken.

"No," she whispered to herself.

"I didn't do anything wrong I'm innocent."

And then, firmer—louder:

“Jo bhi ho, main ye sab prove karke rahungi. Kisi ke false blame ke neeche chhupne wali nahi hoon main.”

There was steel in her spine now. Fire in her blood.

Let them try.

Whoever was behind this—they had no idea who they were messing with.

---

The air on the terrace was thick—not with breeze, but with suspicion and silence.

Ridrakshika stood a few feet apart from the others, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Esha stood beside her, clearly fuming. Sanskaar paced near the railing, jaw tight. Adyansh leaned against the wall, unusually quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor as though calculating something far beyond the room.

Esha finally broke the silence.

"This is seriously getting out of hand!" she snapped, turning to Sanskaar.

"First the note, now the science lab thing—someone’s literally trying to frame her!"

Sanskaar nodded, glancing at Ridrakshika. "And the timing's too convenient. Tanisha walks in with the teacher seconds after the beaker explodes?"

Ridrakshika looked up, voice dry.

"Of course. And she plays the innocent bystander. Again."

There was silence for a beat.

Then, Adyansh spoke—voice flat.

"We need to check the CCTV footage."

Ridrakshika looked at him—half hopeful, half surprised.

Esha jumped in. "Exactly! That will clear everything—let's go to Mehta Sir and—"

But Sanskaar interrupted, pulling out his phone.

"I already did. Guess what? The camera near the chem lab... was ‘conveniently’ disconnected since this morning."

"Kya?!" Esha burst out.

Ridrakshika exhaled slowly, barely managing to stay composed. It was like someone had taken a knife to every sliver of hope she had.

She looked around—at her friends.

Adyansh hadn’t looked at her even once.

"Wow," she muttered under her breath. "Perfect setup."

Esha shot her a glance. "We believe you."

"Some of you do," Ridrakshika said, voice sharp.

Adyansh finally raised his eyes to meet hers—his expression unreadable.

Before anyone could speak, the terrace door creaked open.

Tanisha stood there, arms folded, flanked by two of her ever-present friends.

She smiled sweetly—too sweetly.

"Wow, yahan toh secret meetings ho rahi hain? I must have walked into the wrong episode of CID."

Ridrakshika’s eyes narrowed.

Tanisha took a step forward, faking innocence.

"I mean, new admission ho aur pehle din se drama? That’s impressive. Kuch toh talent hai."

That was the final straw.

Ridrakshika stepped forward, fire in her tone.

"Talent nahi, target banaya gaya hai mujhe. And the ones behind it are cowards who can't face me head on."

Before the argument could escalate, Adyansh’s voice cut through.

"Enough."

Everyone turned to him.

"We’ll figure it out. But until then... no one accuses anyone without proof."

His eyes landed on Tanisha. Cold. Measured.

"Including you."

Tanisha blinked—but her mask didn’t crack. She smirked faintly, tossing her hair.

"Proof toh tab milega jab sach saamne aayega. Tab tak... best of luck."

And with that, she turned and walked out—her shoes echoing ominously behind her.

The door slammed shut.

Ridrakshika didn't move.

Neither did Adyansh.

But behind those still stares—the game had just gotten dirtier.

------

The corridor was empty, shadows long from the late afternoon sun. The dull thud of Ridrakshika’s footsteps echoed as she walked—deliberate, controlled… until she spotted her.

Tanisha.

Leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t almost ruined someone’s life twice in one week.

Ridrakshika marched right up to her.

“Bas ho gaya tumhara drama? Or should I wait for another beaker to explode?”

Tanisha looked up—smiling slowly, like a cat who’d finally caught the mouse.

“Oh, look. Miss Sympathy has finally found her voice.”

Ridrakshika didn’t blink.

“Cut the crap, Tanisha. Mujhe pata hai sab kuch tumne hi kiya hai. Note, lab setup, sab kuch.”

Tanisha’s smile didn’t waver.

In fact, it widened.

“Toh? Kya farak padta hai tumhe?” she said, voice low and venomous.

“Yes. I did it. I wanted you to get humiliated. To be blamed. Because you deserve it.”

Ridrakshika’s jaw clenched.

“Maine kya bigada hai tumhara, haan? Why do you hate me so much?”

Tanisha stepped forward, her voice rising.

“Because you’re taking everything that was mine!” she hissed.

“This school, the attention, and him!”

Ridrakshika stared. “Him?”

Tanisha’s eyes gleamed.

“Adyansh.”

There was a silence so heavy it could’ve broken stone.

“Woh mera tha. Tumhare aane se pehle sab kuch perfect tha. Uski attention... uska sarcasm... uske taunts tak sirf mere liye the. Tumhare aate hi sab badal gaya.”

Ridrakshika laughed bitterly.

“Seriously? That’s your grand reason? Obsession?”

Tanisha stepped closer, voice sharp.

“You think this is about obsession? No, darling. This is about place. And you’re in mine.”

Ridrakshika’s expression hardened. “No. I’m in my place. Tumhare jaise insecure logo ke liye koi sympathy nahi hoti.”

Tanisha’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Ridrakshika raised a hand to stop her.

“And now... I’m done playing your game.”

She turned to leave—heart thudding.

But just around the corridor—she bumped straight into Adyansh.

Perfect timing.

Her face darkened.

“Aur lo. Hero aa gaya.”

Adyansh looked between her and Tanisha, confused.

“What’s going on—”

Ridrakshika cut him off, voice rising.

“Tumhare liye ho raha hai sab! Every single thing!”

Adyansh froze.

“Main yahan kisi se compete karne nahi aayi thi, Adyansh. Par tumhare aas-paas ke logon ka obsession level is pathetic!”

Adyansh frowned, stepping forward.

“Wait, what are you even talking about?”

“Ask your psycho fangirl Tanisha!” she snapped, voice trembling with rage.

“Because she just confessed everything! The threats, the sabotage… sab kuch. Kyunki tumhari life me main aa gayi isliye!”

Adyansh turned sharply to Tanisha—who, for the first time, didn’t have a comeback.

Ridrakshika’s eyes were burning now.

“Tired of being dragged into chaos I never signed up for. Tired of being the villain in someone else's drama.”

She looked at Adyansh—voice quieter but lethal.

“So congratulations. You might not have done anything… but your silence is louder than her screams.”

And with that, she walked away—leaving Adyansh speechless, Tanisha cornered, and the hallway filled with a tension that wouldn’t be forgotten easily.

__________________________________

Stay tuned for further updates 🎀

~shanshya🧿