Ridrakshika’s footsteps echoed in the corridor as she walked away, jaw clenched, rage simmering just beneath her skin. The school walls blurred around her as Tanisha’s words spun through her head like poison.

"She’s taking my place… in this school... in Adyansh’s life."

And Adyansh…

The one person who should’ve said something. Anything.

But he hadn’t.

Not a single word.

She stopped near the staircase, gripping the cold railing. “Sab kuch tumhari wajah se ho raha hai…” she muttered, mimicking her own outburst from earlier. “Tumhari wajah se uske paas reason hai mujhe target karne ka.”

A wave of helplessness washed over her.

The blackmail notes.

The AV room footage.

The mysterious fall near the staircase.

And now—Tanisha's open hostility.

Everything was spiraling out of control.

"Why me? What did I do to deserve this?"

But before her thoughts could drown her, a spark lit behind her eyes—anger forged into determination.

“No,” she said to herself in a whisper that burned like fire. “Main kuch nahi kiya. I’m innocent. And I will prove it—chahe jo bhi ho jaye.”

At that very moment—elsewhere in the building—Adyansh stood motionless outside the class, hand gripping the edge of the doorframe.

He had heard everything.

Tanisha’s twisted confession.

Ridrakshika’s explosive fury.

And yet, he hadn’t stopped it.

He hadn’t defended her.

He hated how that made him feel.

Aanya’s voice from the past rang in his ears:

"Bhai, kabhi kabhi jo log sabse zyada irritate karte hain… wahi sabse zyada matter karte hain."

He rubbed his face with frustration. What the hell was wrong with him?

And just as he turned, his phone buzzed.

A message from Sanskaar.

“OG four. Rooftop. Emergency.”

Without thinking twice, he bolted down the hallway.

---

The rooftop was quiet, wind brushing through the wire fencing as the four stood in a circle.

Esha’s eyes flicked between everyone. “Okay, we need to talk—now.”

Sanskaar folded his arms. “Tanisha’s losing control. But she’s also getting desperate. The framing, the lies, the sudden AV room footage—none of this is random.”

Ridrakshika raised an eyebrow. “But she admitted it herself. So what’s stopping us?”

Adyansh finally spoke, voice sharp and low. “Proof.”

That one word silenced the group.

“She’s not stupid,” he added. “She’s already shifted suspicion onto Meher. The OG Four thought we were two steps ahead—but she’s ten ahead.”

Ridrakshika’s eyes widened. “Wait… you mean—”

Esha interrupted. “The footage. It’s gone. Camera connection was mysteriously ‘lost’. And the only person who had access after that?”

“Meher,” Sanskaar muttered bitterly. “Just as Tanisha planned.”

Ridrakshika clenched her jaw. “That snake.”

“Exactly,” Adyansh said. “We walked right into her trap.”

There was a tense pause.

But then Ridrakshika straightened, fire in her eyes. “Then let’s turn the trap on her. Let’s play this her way—but better.”

The four exchanged looks—and for the first time, there was no doubt.

Game on.

---

While the OG Four planned their counterstrike on the rooftop, Tanisha sat in the darkened girls' washroom, perched on the edge of the sink, legs crossed, her phone screen glowing in the silence.

Her reflection in the mirror was calm—too calm.

But her eyes?

Manic.

Unhinged.

"Meher messed up the footage timing," she muttered under her breath, texting furiously. “Useless.”

Her fingers moved quickly—typing, deleting, rewriting. This wasn’t about simple revenge anymore.

This was war.

She clicked open a secret folder on her phone. Inside: dozens of candid pictures of Ridrakshika. From school hallways. The AV room. The corridor near the staffroom.

Every shot timed perfectly to look suspicious.

"You want to play with proof?" she thought coldly. "Let me give them one."

She attached one image—a blurred shot of Ridrakshika seemingly passing an envelope to a student in the parking lot. She paired it with a timestamp. Then edited a short message:

“Anonymous tip: You’re nurturing a criminal. Might want to check the parking lot footage from two days ago. 🙂”

She sent it.

To the Principal.

To a staff member.

To the school board's internal group.

And then—she smiled.

No name. No claim.

Just proof that Ridrakshika couldn’t easily defend.

She pocketed her phone and leaned into the mirror with a slow smirk.

"Let’s see how confident the new girl is when she’s being called a drug mule.”

---

Elsewhere:

Ridrakshika’s phone buzzed with notifications she didn’t understand.

Students whispering in the corridor.

Teachers exchanging glances.

And from the corner of the hallway—Tanisha watched it all unfold…

…with a smile that said checkmate.

----

Ridrakshika stood near her locker when the first whispers started floating through the air like poisonous smoke.

"Did you see the image?"

"Parking lot... illegal stuff maybe?"

"Isn’t that the new girl? What’s her name—"

Her phone buzzed again.

Another unknown number.

Another blurred photo.

Caption:

"Careful, princess. Too many eyes watching you now."

Her heart dropped.

She knew this wasn’t random. It wasn’t coincidence.

It was deliberate.

Planned.

Cruel.

Her hands trembled for a split second, but she quickly clenched her fists—nails digging into her palm, grounding her.

This was no longer about notes or accidents. This was character assassination.

She stormed into the empty classroom nearby, slamming the door shut behind her. Esha and Sanskaar arrived seconds later, breathless.

"Rii—" Esha began.

“I KNOW what they're saying!” Ridrakshika snapped, tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall. “But I didn't do anything!”

Sanskaar looked furious. "We know. You don’t have to explain anything to us."

Ridrakshika let out a shaky breath, back pressed to the wall. She stared at the ceiling, as if asking the universe why it was targeting her.

“What is this? Why me? Why now? Am I some kind of magnet for chaos?”

But then her expression changed.

The fear in her eyes hardened into something else—resolve.

She stood up straighter, jaw clenched.

“No,” she said quietly but fiercely. “No more. I’m not running. I’m not hiding. I haven’t done a damn thing wrong, and I’m not going to let anyone—ANYONE—drag my name through the dirt.”

Esha stepped beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ve got your back.”

Sanskaar nodded. “Whoever’s behind this... they just made the worst mistake of their life.”

And in that moment, Ridrakshika wasn’t the scared new girl anymore.

She was the storm they never saw coming.

----

The air in the classroom crackled with tension.

Esha stood with her arms crossed, her usual bubbly energy replaced by cold determination. Sanskaar paced the length of the room, eyes burning with fury. Adyansh leaned against the window frame, silent but alert—expression unreadable, yet clearly calculating. Ridrakshika sat at a desk, back straight, defiance in her eyes even though her world was turning upside down.

Sanskaar stopped pacing.

“This is too perfect. The moment Tanisha realizes we were about to expose her, boom—this photo surfaces, and all fingers point at Ridrakshika.”

Esha scoffed. “Coincidence? Please. She’s desperate. She knew she was slipping. So she shifted the narrative.”

Ridrakshika looked between them, her voice quiet but steady.

“But no one’s going to listen to logic, are they? All they’ll see is what they’ve been told to believe.”

Adyansh finally spoke, voice low and sharp.

“Then we don’t give them a choice. If she wants to turn the spotlight on you... we turn it right back.”

Sanskaar nodded. “Exactly. We start Phase 2.”

“Phase 2?” Ridrakshika raised an eyebrow.

Esha smirked. “Operation Backfire. She framed you using a blurry picture and rumor? We’ll burn her with facts.”

Adyansh crossed his arms. “We check CCTV, corner the tech guy if we have to. Tanisha thinks she’s clever—leaving no trace, disconnecting wires... but every move leaves a shadow.”

Sanskaar tapped his phone. “I’ve already contacted someone from AV club. There was a power dip that day—caused a few glitches. But guess what? Backup drives weren’t wiped.”

Ridrakshika’s eyes lit up. “So there’s still hope?”

Sanskaar smiled faintly. “There’s always hope. She messed with the wrong squad.”

Esha’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her expression sharpening.

“She just posted another story. ‘Fake faces always get exposed eventually’... with a coffee emoji.”

Adyansh’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s taunting us.”

“No,” Ridrakshika said, rising from her chair, the fire back in her step. “She’s digging her own grave.”

The four of them exchanged a silent look. The game had changed—but so had the players. This wasn’t about hiding anymore. This was war.

And the OG Four?

They were done playing nice.

--------

The classroom was nearly empty, but tension simmered in the corner where the OG Four had gathered like storm clouds. Ridrakshika sat with her arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes staring blankly at the wall, while Esha paced like a live wire, her irritation crackling louder than her footsteps. Sanskaar was hunched over his phone, scanning files and fragments, trying to salvage the plan they thought would expose Tanisha once and for all. And Adyansh — silent, brooding, unreadable — leaned against the wall with his arms folded, looking every bit like a ticking time bomb.

“The plan was perfect,” Sanskaar muttered under his breath. “We had the AV room footage, the backup file... it was all there.”

“Until it wasn’t,” Esha snapped. “Until someone miraculously corrupted everything. Who even corrupts a backup drive unless they know they’re going down?”

Ridrakshika scoffed quietly. “She’s not afraid of getting caught. She’s afraid of losing control. That’s why she had to throw the last punch — frame me while smiling for the cameras.”

Adyansh’s eyes flickered. “She’s not trying to win. She wants to destroy. Publicly. Dramatically.”

Esha let out a dry laugh. “She’s trying alright. Half the school now thinks Ridz is running an underground mafia and Sanskaar is her money launderer.”

“And I’m the evil mastermind?” Ridrakshika said with mock sarcasm, her lips twitching. “How flattering.”

Just then, all four phones buzzed simultaneously. A notification from Tanisha’s new broadcast story popped up. “Guilty people scream the loudest. Watch how they crumble :)”

Esha’s voice was venomous. “I swear that emoji makes me want to slap her into another time zone.”

Ridrakshika didn’t flinch. “Let her post. Let her play her games. I’ll prove she’s lying, even if I have to expose every rotting secret in this school.”

Before anyone could respond, the classroom door creaked open and a junior student hesitantly stepped in. “Uh… Ridrakshika? Principal ma’am wants to see you. It’s… urgent.”

A silence fell over the room.

“Now?” Sanskaar asked sharply. “For what?”

The boy shrugged. “Something about new allegations. A girl from your class accused you of sabotaging a test.”

For a moment, Ridrakshika didn’t react. Then her expression changed — not fear, not shock — but fury laced with a strange calm. She stood up slowly, fixing her hair behind her ear like a warrior tying her armor.

“She’s throwing everything now,” Esha muttered. “What’s next? Accusing you of starting World War III?”

“This is desperation,” Adyansh said finally. “She’s scared. She’s overplaying her hand.”

Ridrakshika glanced at all of them, her voice cold and razor-sharp. “Good. Let her be scared. But I’m done playing nice. I’ll show her exactly who she’s messing with.”

And just like that, they moved together — not just as a group, but as a force. No more hesitation. No more hoping. Just a singular mission burning behind their eyes.

Tanisha thought she’d won.

But the OG Four weren’t done yet.

This wasn’t revenge.

This was war.

--------

The principal’s office loomed quiet—too quiet. Ridrakshika stepped in with measured calm, but her nerves were burning beneath her skin. Principal Roy sat behind the desk, stiff and unreadable, while a teacher from the exam committee and two other staff members stood like stone-faced judges. And right beside them, sitting with an oh-so-innocent expression and clasped hands, was Tanisha.

"Come in, Ridrakshika," the principal said, voice heavy with concern. "There’s been a serious allegation against you… regarding the Business Environment paper leak."

For a split second, Ridrakshika’s breath caught. "Excuse me?"

Tanisha turned her head slightly, just enough to smirk—but not enough for the adults to notice. Her voice was honeyed poison. "I just thought it was suspicious how she knew the exact case study questions before the paper. I didn’t want to believe it either... but it's about fairness, ma’am.”

Ridrakshika’s fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Her voice, though calm, was fire-laced. “With all due respect, if you’re going to accuse me based on what she ‘thought’—then I want to see proof.”

The teacher beside the principal quietly slid a file across the table. “This screenshot was submitted anonymously. It contains part of the question paper—sent from your school email to another student, thirty minutes before the exam began.”

Ridrakshika stared at the paper. A chill ran through her spine. The screenshot was real—but she hadn't sent it. She knew she hadn't. Her eyes narrowed. “Someone hacked my ID.”

Tanisha blinked slowly. “That’s convenient.”

Before Ridrakshika could explode, the door burst open.

“Ma’am!” Esha barged in, followed by Sanskaar and Adyansh. “We need a word. Now.”

Principal Roy frowned. “This is highly irregular—”

Adyansh cut in, voice firm. “Irregular is framing a student using forged screenshots. We found traces of unauthorized login on Ridrakshika’s email account from a device registered under a different IP. The logs match another student’s device—someone with a history of tampering and previous warnings.”

Tanisha’s face twitched.

“Who?” the principal asked.

Sanskaar stepped forward and dropped a printed log sheet on the desk. “Meher. The same girl caught cheating last semester. We believe she was manipulated… maybe even used.”

Ridrakshika turned slowly, locking eyes with Tanisha. “You didn’t think I’d fight back, did you?”

Tanisha finally broke the silence. She stood, lips curling upward. “You’re not as smart as you think, Ridz. You may have saved yourself this time, but you can’t be the hero and the victim.”

“I don’t want to be either,” Ridrakshika shot back. “I just want the truth. Something I know you’ve never been friends with.”

The principal raised her hand. “Enough. I will look into these logs personally. Until then, no further accusations.”

Outside the office, the squad regrouped. Esha sighed. “I swear, this is like dealing with a snake dipped in perfume.”

Ridrakshika looked ahead, jaw set. “Let her slither. Because the next time she makes a move…”

Adyansh, for the first time, smiled slightly. “We’ll be ready.”

------

Ridrakshika flopped down dramatically, letting her bag hit the floor with a loud thump. “Can we just take a moment to breathe? Because this school’s turning into a full-on crime series, and I’m this close—this close—to losing my last functioning brain cell.”

Esha chuckled. “Only the last one? Girl, I lost mine when you volunteered to decode that IP address like some cyber Sherlock.”

Sanskaar leaned forward. “Okay but seriously—what now? That Meher angle threw us off. And Tanisha’s next move won’t be soft.”

Ridrakshika’s eyes narrowed, her tone turning sharp. “We all know why she’s doing this.....” She paused, then smirked. “But jitna mujhe ab tak samajh aaya hai—Tanisha itni aasani se haar maanne wali nahi hai. Tab tak nahi, until she actually harms me.”

She turned toward the group, hands flailing in mild exasperation.

“Dushman hi ban ke baith gayi hai, jaise maine iska pati bhaga liya ho ya shaadi tod di ho kisi ki!”

Esha snorted, nearly choking on her water. “Please! Ridhi’s favourite line just got dethroned.”

Ridrakshika rolled her eyes, now pacing. “Mera toh dimaag hi kharab ho gaya hai is loche mein. I need peace. Shanti chahiye thodi! Let her do whatever she wants—I’m Ridrakshika Verma. Aisi chudailon se nahi darti mai!”

Laughter filled the room… but outside, just around the corner, Tanisha stood frozen—eyes dark, hands clenched, lips pressed in a thin line. She had heard every word. And every word burned like acid.

She walked away silently, but her mind was already plotting.

"Not scared, huh?" she whispered to herself. "Let’s fix that."

It was almost dispersal time. Students flooded the halls, chatter echoing off the walls. Ridrakshika was at the art lab, helping move a stack of framed glass pieces to the exhibit area—a task she was clearly annoyed about, but doing anyway because “volunteer duty” had cursed her day.

She picked up two frames at once, both heavier than expected.

“Careful,” the helper muttered, but he walked away before checking again.

What Ridrakshika didn’t know… was that one of the frames had been tampered with—the base loosened just enough, the top edge slightly cracked. The perfect trap.

As she turned the corner, the loosened glass shifted—then shattered violently, collapsing into both her hands. The jagged shards sliced deep across her palms.

“Ahhh—F*ck!” she cried, dropping to her knees. Blood instantly bloomed across her skin.

Students around screamed. One of them ran to get a teacher. Esha, who was nearby, came rushing in.

“Oh my God, Ridz—what the hell happened?!”

Ridrakshika stared at her bloodied hands, breath coming in shallow gasps. “It… it just… broke. I didn’t even move it wrong—!”

Adyansh and Sanskaar arrived moments later. Adyansh’s face paled when he saw her injuries, but he didn’t speak.

Esha held her by the shoulder, her voice shaking. “This isn’t normal. That glass didn’t just fall. Someone—someone planned this.”

And standing just beyond the corner, Tanisha watched silently… satisfied.

--------

They were half-running through the corridor, Esha and Sanskaar flanking Ridrakshika while Adyansh stayed close, ready to intervene if needed. Her hands were wrapped in a makeshift cloth, but the blood kept seeping through—slow, warm, and alarming.

Just as they neared the infirmary, Ridrakshika stumbled. Her foot caught the edge of a tile, and before she could fall, Adyansh stepped in, catching her with both arms—steady, firm.

But the damage was done. Her blood had smeared across the front of his crisp white shirt, staining it in harsh, angry patterns.

Ridrakshika looked up, slightly breathless. “I—I’m so sorry… your shirt—”

Adyansh didn’t even glance down. “It’s okay. Just walk carefully.”

His voice was low, but calm. Almost… gentle.

They reached the nurse’s room and helped Ridrakshika onto the bed. The nurse immediately began cleaning her wounds, sharp glass pieces still embedded deep into her skin.

And that’s when it happened.

As the pain hit, Ridrakshika instinctively turned her face away—eyes squeezed shut—and leaned slightly to her right…

…toward Adyansh, who stood beside her.

In that unguarded moment, her forehead lightly pressed against his torso—right where the blood had dried, right where his breath caught.

Adyansh froze.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

His hands remained stiff by his sides, eyes locked on the wall ahead as if blinking might shatter something delicate in the air.

For a whole five seconds, the world paused.

Then—finally—

The nurse finished dressing the last wound and stepped away.

Adyansh cleared his throat, a sharp, awkward little sound that snapped Ridrakshika back to reality.

She blinked and immediately jerked away, eyes wide with sudden realization.

“I—I’m sorry,” she mumbled, flustered and avoiding his gaze.

Adyansh just looked at her, expression unreadable… and then said, simply,

“It’s fine.”

But his voice… was quieter than usual. Softer.

And Ridrakshika couldn’t quite tell whether that made her more nervous… or something else entirely.

------

Ridrakshika sat quietly on the infirmary bed, her hands bandaged, still faintly trembling from the pain. The sterile smell of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing oddly with the weight of everything that had just happened. Esha and Sanskaar stood nearby, keeping their voices low—letting her breathe.

Adyansh, leaning against the opposite wall, stared blankly ahead. His white shirt still bore faint, dried bloodstains—hers. He hadn’t said much after the nurse finished treating her, and neither had she. But the silence between them wasn't empty. It pulsed with something heavier… something unspoken.

Ridrakshika finally looked up, her voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to make it such a mess.”

Adyansh didn’t move. “You didn’t.”

For a moment, her gaze lingered on him, searching. “Why does it feel like someone’s trying to erase me from the picture?”

Adyansh glanced at her then—sharp, unreadable. “Maybe because someone is.”

Their eyes locked.

The nurse returned and broke the silence with her usual dull tone. “She needs rest. No more drama for today.”

Ridrakshika gave a faint smile. “No promises.”

Adyansh walked over, his hand resting on the edge of the bed—not touching her, but near. “Tum thodi der yahin ruko. I'll inform the teacher.”

Ridrakshika nodded.

As he turned to leave, she called out, not sure why. “Adyansh.”

He paused but didn’t turn back.

“Thanks... for today,” she said simply.

He gave the faintest nod, and then, without a word, walked out of the infirmary, leaving her with the echo of footsteps—and thoughts far too loud.

The war hadn’t ended.

But the sides were becoming clearer.

And Ridrakshika Verma?

She was just getting started.
__________________________________

Stay tuned for further updates 🎀

~shanshya🧿