The bell rang for the last period, but Ridrakshika barely heard it. She sat at the far end of the classroom, staring blankly at her notebook. Her fingers trembled slightly, her mind still echoing with Adyansh’s harsh words from earlier.

"Agar Aanya ko kuch ho jaata, I swear... I wouldn’t have spared anyone."

His tone, his eyes... that accusation had cut deeper than she expected.

Esha sat beside her, equally disturbed. “Ridu... kuch toh gadbad hai. I was right there when you placed the order. Tune clearly almond milk bola tha.”

Ridrakshika nodded weakly. “But what does it matter, Esha? He already decided that I’m guilty…”

At that moment, outside the classroom, Sanskar’s voice rang out, “Adyansh! Wait!”

Adyansh turned around impatiently. “Ab kya Sanskar?”

Sanskar handed him a folded paper. “I went to the canteen .Maine unse order slip mangayi. Dekh isme kya likha hai.”

Adyansh frowned and unfolded the slip. His eyes scanned the printed words —

“Cold Coffee - Almond Milk (1)

His brows furrowed. “But… ye toh—”

Sanskar interrupted, “Exactly. Ridu ne sahi order diya tha. Uski koi galti nahi thi. Café wale bhi confirm kar rahe the. Someone swapped the drinks deliberately.”

Adyansh’s throat tightened.

“Tanisha?” he muttered, the pieces falling into place.

Sanskar nodded. “Very likely. And honestly... you owe Ridrakshika an apology.”

Adyansh didn’t say a word. He just turned and walked back toward the classroom with heavy steps.

Inside, Ridrakshika stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she reached the door, Adyansh stepped in, halting her in her tracks.

“Thunder…” he said softly.

She didn’t look at him. “Don’t. Just... don’t call me that today.”

“Ridra—”

“You think I could ever risk Aanya's health like that?” she asked, finally looking up, eyes shimmering with hurt. “I care for her, Adyansh. She's not just your sister—she's my friend too.”

His jaw tightened with guilt. “I know.”

“You know now,” she whispered. “But when it mattered... you didn’t even think twice before blaming me.”

He stepped closer. “I messed up. I reacted without knowing the truth.”

“Well,” she said with a sad smile, “maybe next time, think before you react. Trust before you accuse.”

She walked past him, brushing his shoulder lightly, and left the room — her silence louder than any argument.

Adyansh stood still, the weight of his mistake pressing down on his chest.

As he looked out the window, he whispered to himself,

"I screwed up. Big time."

And behind a nearby wall, Tanisha watched it all unfold — her smirk faltering just a little.

Because even the best-laid traps... start to unravel.

-------

The next day dawned, but the storm from yesterday hadn’t settled.

Ridrakshika walked into the class with a stiff spine and a tighter expression. She wasn’t angry anymore — she was done. The kind of done where you stop explaining yourself, stop defending, and just let people believe what they want to.

Adyansh noticed the shift immediately.

No sass.

No eye rolls.

No arguments.

Just silence.

He hated it.

He sat beside her on the bench, his presence awkwardly loud in the void she had created. He glanced sideways — she was scribbling something in her notebook, her expression unreadable.

He cleared his throat. “Thunder, suno…”

She didn't even blink.

He sighed. “Look, I really am—”

“Save it,” she interrupted coldly, still not looking at him.

His brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to yell? You didn’t mean to accuse me in front of everyone? Ya fir you didn’t mean to make me feel like trash for doing nothing wrong?” she turned her head slightly now, her tone sharp but low.

That hit him.

Hard.

“I was scared for Aanya…”

“And I wasn’t?” she snapped, eyes blazing now. “You think I don’t care? You think this is a joke for me? Main cold coffee swap karungi, kyun? Kya milega mujhe usse?”

There was silence between them — deafening and raw.

Meanwhile, across the room, Tanisha sat observing — her lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. One spark was all it took. And she had given them a forest fire.

Adyansh ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve trusted you.”

“You didn’t,” Ridrakshika replied. “That’s all that matters.”

Before he could respond, Mr. Mehta walked in with his usual thundering voice, and the class got busy. But the storm between them had only just begun.

---

Later that evening...

Adyansh sat alone on the basketball court, tossing the ball aimlessly against the floor. He couldn’t concentrate — Ridrakshika’s words haunted him. Her eyes — those fierce, fiery eyes — they didn’t burn with anger today.

They were cold.

And he hated that more.

He looked up when footsteps echoed behind him. It was Sanskar, with two cans of cola.

“Tu practice kar raha hai ya guilt me doob raha hai?” he asked, tossing a can at him.

Adyansh caught it and sighed. “I messed it up.”

Sanskar sat beside him. “Bhai, tujhe pyaar ho raha hai.”

Adyansh choked on his cola. “Kya?!”

Sanskar grinned. “Oh please. You only get this frustrated when someone matters.”

“I... I don’t know,” Adyansh mumbled, looking down. “She drives me crazy. One second she’s blasting me, next second she’s hurt and I feel... responsible. Even when it’s not my fault.”

Sanskar patted his shoulder. “Classic case of falling for the girl you claim to hate. Just... don’t be late in fixing it.”

Adyansh nodded slowly, his heart heavier than he expected.

---

Meanwhile, at Ridrakshika’s house...

She was in her room, trying to study but failing miserably. Riddhi entered, holding a little tub of ice cream.

“Di... aaj bhi mood off?”

Ridrakshika gave her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Riddhi pouted. “Bhaiya ko bataun?”

Ridrakshika groaned. “Please no. I don’t need Viyansh bhaiya fussing over this.”

Riddhi grinned. “Fine. But one day, you’ll thank me for hiding your secrets.”

Ridrakshika threw a pillow at her.

But deep inside, her heart wasn’t angry anymore.

It was bruised.

And healing would take time.

-------

The sky had turned a soft golden-orange as the school day came to a close. Most students had left, the usual chatter replaced with the distant hum of the city. Outside the main gate, near the old bench by the school garden wall, Sanskar and Esha sat — for once, away from the chaos of their group.

"Peaceful, isn’t it?" Esha asked, letting her arms stretch behind her on the bench.

Sanskar gave a short laugh, tossing a pebble toward the grass. "I’m still trying to process how we ended up here. Weren’t we just arguing about whose music taste sucks?"

"Correction," Esha smirked. "You were defending your disastrous playlist. I was just helping you accept reality."

He shook his head, mock-offended. "You have no taste, that’s your problem."

Esha turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Yet here you are… choosing to sit with me even after that."

"Yeah, well," Sanskar said with a small grin, "I’ve come to terms with your flaws."

They both laughed — the kind of laughter that wasn’t forced, the kind that warmed the silence rather than broke it.

A moment passed.

Then Esha asked, softer this time, "How’s Adyansh holding up?"

Sanskar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He won’t say it, but he’s shaken. That whole thing with Aanya... he feels guilty. And whatever’s happening with Ridrakshika — it’s messing with him more than he admits."

Esha nodded slowly, then glanced sideways. “And you? What’s messing with you?”

He looked at her, surprised.

“You always act like the happy-go-lucky glue of the group,” she continued, “but you’re allowed to feel things too, you know.”

Sanskar was quiet for a beat. Then, he smiled — this time a little more real. “You see through people too easily, it’s scary.”

"I choose my people carefully," she replied.

He looked at her — really looked this time — and his teasing façade cracked just enough to let something vulnerable slip through.

"I like this side of you," he said honestly.

Esha blinked. "Which one?"

"This one. The version that talks without a punchline ready."

She paused. Then smiled. "Don’t get used to it."

"Too late."

Their eyes locked again, and for a moment, there was nothing else. No drama, no jokes, no squad — just them.

Suddenly Esha stood up, clearing her throat. “Alright, emotional  ho gaye. Let’s go, before you write a poem or something.”

Sanskar laughed, following her. “Careful. I might just dedicate my next sad playlist to you.”

“Then I’ll file a restraining order against your Spotify.”

They walked off down the path, side by side, the late sun casting long shadows behind them — two people slowly, unknowingly moving closer.

__________________________________

Stay tuned for further updates 🎀

~shanshya🧿