Rhea's pov
New day. Same old chaos.
Our classroom woke up before the bell ever could.
Samar was standing on the bench, hand on his hip, imitating Mrs. D'Souza so perfectly that even the ceiling fan looked offended.
"SILENCEEE!" he screeched, rolling his eyes like he was auditioning for daily soap villain.
Neel clutched his imaginary register. "Class, I am very disappointed in you," he said solemnly, then immediately tripped over a bag and blamed it on negative classroom energy.
I stared at the wall. Bored. Emotionally tired. Spiritually absent.
This was my life.
Behind us, Yuhan and Kabir were deep into a serious science discussion—something about reactions, equations, and why the teacher skipped three steps like they were optional side quests.
"That doesn't obey the law of conservation," Kabir muttered.
Yuhan nodded. "Exactly. That reaction was illegal."
Meanwhile, Samar was now imitating the PT teacher doing lunges mid-lecture.
Balance in the universe ✨
Everything was normal.
Which is exactly when things went wrong.
Near the staircase, a group of senior girls had cornered two freshers. Tiny. Nervous. One looked like she might cry any second.
"First years should learn where they belong," one senior sneered.
Before I could even process it—Kabir stepped in.
"Back off," he said, calm but sharp. The kind of calm that makes people uncomfortable.
The girls scoffed. "And who are you?"
Yuhan didn't wait. He raised his voice. "Someone who actually has manners. Try it sometime."
Oops.
Wrong move.
The seniors started yelling. Voices rose. Crowd gathered like it was free entertainment.
And then—
They brought their boyfriends.
Because obviously.
Suddenly there were shouting matches, pushing, someone dropped a bag, someone else yelled "DON'T TOUCH HER," and chaos exploded like a badly conducted science experiment.
I tried to step in. "STOP—can we all just—"
Too late.
Teachers came running. Whistles. Screaming. Absolute disaster.
Principal's Office.
All of us. Lined up. Like criminals.
The principal adjusted his glasses and stared at us as if reconsidering his career choices.
"This is a SCHOOL, not a STREET FIGHT ARENA," he thundered.
The senior girls got a separate warning—stern, sharp, public.
We got scolded too. Because of course we did.
"You think you are heroes?" he snapped. "This behavior will NOT be tolerated."
We walked out in silence.
Samar whispered, "Worth it though."
Neel nodded. "10/10 drama."
Kabir looked angry. Yuhan looked unsettled.
And me?
I felt… strange.
The corridor was unusually quiet as I headed out alone.
Too quiet.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
Before I could scream—
Everything went dark
It happened so fast I didn't even register the first shove.
Cold water splashed over my head—someone laughed.
Trash followed. Paper. A plastic bottle. Words sharper than all of it.
"Acting too smart, huh?"
"Hero gang ki heroine?"
Before I could step back, a fist hit my shoulder. Another hand shoved me hard.
I lost balance.
I fell.
The ground felt rough. My head rang. Everything blurred for a second—sounds mixing, voices overlapping, my body suddenly… weak. Someone kicked near my leg. Someone else laughed.
I remember thinking, Oh. So this is how it feels when you can't fight back.
Elsewhere—
Samar and Neel were busy being idiots.
"Rhea would've definitely tripped by now," Neel joked.
Samar grinned. "Nah, she'd trip and then lecture gravity."
They laughed.
Then Neel frowned. "Wait… where is she?"
Silence.
One look at each other—and chaos flipped.
They searched everywhere. Corridors. Stairs. Classrooms.
Until they reached the ground.
And Kabir saw me.
His eyes—
They weren't angry.
They were burning.
Those boys were still there. Still laughing. One of them raised his foot again—
Kabir snapped.
He didn't shout. He didn't warn.
He moved.
Hands grabbed. Punches landed. Someone flew back.
Yuhan was already there—straight punch, clean hit.
Samar and Neel? Full chaos mode. Shoving, yelling, swinging like they were born for this exact disaster.
Everyone backed off. Fear replaced arrogance real quick.
Kabir dropped to his knees beside me.
"Rhea," his voice was tight. Controlled. Too controlled.
Before I could say anything—he lifted me.
Just… picked me up like I weighed nothing.
The world tilted. His shoulder was solid. Safe.
He placed me on a table nearby, hands already checking—arms, face, shoulder. Gentle. Furious.
"You're hurt," he said, jaw clenched.
"I'm—" My voice cracked. Great. Perfect timing.
He straightened. "Wait here. Two minutes."
Then he walked away.
Two minutes passed.
Five.
Ten.
When he came back—those girls' boyfriends were not walking properly. Limping. Holding arms. Faces pale.
No one said a word.
Kabir came straight back to me like nothing else mattered.
Yuhan knelt beside me. "You okay?"
Samar tried to joke. "Next time, at least punch someone back, no?"
Neel frowned. "Shut up. She's shaking."
That's when it hit me.
The fear.
The shock.
The relief.
I cried. Just a little. Stupid tears.
"ARE YOU CRYING?" Samar gasped dramatically. "Guys—guys—write this down. Historic moment."
I sniffed. "Shut up."
Neel smirked. "Wait till your brother hears."
I froze. "Don't you dare."
Kabir actually smiled. Smiled.
"Now that," he said calmly, "is the scariest thing here."
They all laughed. Arms came around me—messy, warm, protective.
I was bruised. I was shaken.
But I wasn't alone.
And whoever thought hurting me was a good idea—
They'd just unlocked the wrong chaos.
The clinic smelled like antiseptic and silence.
White walls. A ticking clock. A nurse pressing cotton on my scraped arm and telling me "it'll sting a bit" like I hadn't already survived a mini war today.
Kabir stood near the door at first. Arms crossed. Jaw tight.
Like if he moved one step closer, something inside him would explode.
I avoided looking at him.
Because the moment I did—
I knew I'd cry again.
The nurse finally left, mumbling something about "be careful next time."
The door clicked shut.
And suddenly… it was just us.
Kabir walked over slowly and pulled a chair close to the bed. Sat down.
Not saying anything.
That somehow hurt more.
"You shouldn't have gone that far," I whispered, staring at my bandaged hands.
My voice sounded small. I hated that.
His head snapped up. "Don't."
I blinked.
"Don't defend them. Don't minimize it," he said quietly. His voice was low, controlled—but I could hear the anger trembling underneath. "You fell, Rhea. They hit you."
I swallowed. "I'm fine now."
He laughed. Once. Sharp. Not amused.
"You were shaking."
Silence stretched.
Then he reached out.
Slowly. Like he was afraid I'd pull away.
His fingers barely touched my wrist—warm, careful, grounding. He looked at the bruises like they personally offended him.
"I told myself two minutes," he said. "Just to cool down."
He exhaled. "I failed."
I finally looked at him.
His eyes weren't angry anymore.
They were… scared.
"You scared me," he admitted. "Seeing you like that."
That broke something in me.
"I tried to stop it," I said, voice cracking. "I really did."
"I know," he said instantly. No hesitation. "I know you did."
His thumb brushed the edge of the bandage. Gentle. Almost reverent.
"Next time," he added softly, "you don't step in alone."
I frowned. "What if—"
"—You don't," he repeated. Firmer. "You call me. Or Yuhan. Or even those two idiots."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"I'm not weak," I muttered.
He leaned closer. Not touching now. Just close enough that I felt his presence.
"I know," he said. "Weak people don't try to protect others."
My throat tightened.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he sighed, rubbing his face. "Your brother will kill me."
I huffed out a weak laugh. "He'll kill you? I'm the one who got beaten."
Kabir glanced at me. "He'll still kill me."
That made me laugh properly this time.
He smiled—small, tired, real.
Before standing up, he said quietly,
"I've got you, Rhea. Even when you don't think you need it."
And for the first time since the chaos started—
I believed it.
Kabir's POV — Clinic
I hate clinics.
Too white. Too quiet. Too much time to think.
Rhea sat on the bed while the nurse cleaned her wounds, and every wince she tried to hide felt like a punch to my chest. I stayed near the door—not because I didn't want to be close, but because if I stood any nearer, I wasn't sure I'd stay calm.
I'd already crossed a line today.
And I'd cross it again if I had to.
The nurse finally left. The door shut. Silence dropped between us like something fragile.
She looked down at her hands. "You shouldn't have gone that far."
That's when I lost it.
"Don't," I said. Too sharp. I softened my voice immediately. "Just… don't."
She said she was fine.
She wasn't.
She had been shaking. I'd felt it when I picked her up. That memory still burned in my hands.
I moved closer and sat in front of her. I didn't touch her at first. I didn't trust myself.
"I gave myself two minutes," I told her. "To cool down."
I hadn't cooled down at all.
When I finally reached for her wrist, I did it slowly—like she might flinch. My fingers barely brushed her skin, tracing the edge of the bandage. Bruises. Red marks. Proof.
Seeing them made my chest tighten.
Then she looked at me.
Not scared. Not angry.
Just… tired.
And that scared me more than anything.
"You scared me today," I said before I could stop myself. The words felt heavy. Honest. "When I saw you on the ground."
She said she tried to stop it.
I believed her instantly. There was never a doubt.
"I know," I told her. "You always do."
She said she wasn't weak.
I almost laughed—not because it was funny, but because it was so her.
I leaned in slightly, close enough for her to hear the truth in my voice.
"Trying to protect others is the bravest thing you can do," I said. "But you don't do it alone next time."
She finally smiled. Just a little.
Relief loosened something in my chest.
Then she mentioned her brother.
I sighed. "He's going to kill me."
She laughed, and that sound—that sound—made everything worth it.
When I stood up, I paused. Looked at her one more time. Safe. Breathing. Still here.
"I've got you," I said quietly. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just a promise. "Always."
And for the first time since the chaos—
My hands stopped shaking.