With the help of the notice board, Pakhi finally located her classroom as her first day just begun. She was the last one to enter, and for a moment, every pair of eyes in the room turned toward the latecomer. She kept her gaze low and made her way in quietly, scanning the rows until a familiar face came into view.
Maria sat in the third row, flipping through a notebook. Mustering some courage, Pakhi approached her.
"Can I sit next to you?" she asked softly, voice carefully steady.
Maria tightened her grip on her bag and turned slightly away.
"No. Just go sit somewhere else."
Pakhi's heart sank. With hesitant steps, she asked a few more classmates, but each attempt was met with indifference, coldness, or complete silence. Eventually, she was left with no choice but to head to the very last bench and sit alone.
Moments later, a tall man walked in and introduced himself as the course instructor. Without wasting time, he began the lecture. Pakhi tried to focus on her notes, blocking out the ache that settled in her chest.
" Six years" , she reminded herself. Six years of AILD—that's all that matters. Even if everyone here hates me... let them. I'm here to study.
When lunch break rolled around, the classroom erupted into buzzing chatter. Groups formed, laughter echoed, and students paired off, heading to the cafeteria. Pakhi remained seated, watching quietly as others moved with comfort and ease.
It reminded her of school.
In the beginning, her friends had been kind. But once they discovered the financial hardships she came from—and the fact that she wasn't among the top scorers—the masks came off. Secrets she'd trusted others with were weaponized. Rumors spread like wildfire. Every flaw was mocked, every mistake magnified.
Even the one boy she'd once called her best friend—her secret crush from the village—turned on her. He humiliated her. Made her a punchline.
After that, she stopped trying. The fear never really left.
But this place… this was a new start. Yes, she was considered "low-class" in the eyes of many—but maybe this time, hard work could earn her a place. Maybe results could buy the kind of respect that background couldn't. Like in school, where the top students were adored and admired.
This time, no past. No vulnerability.
No one would know her truth.
Inshallah, she told herself.
Step one: get a good rank. Make the parents proud.
Step two: Don't forget step one..
Just then, a waiter approached her with a tray and set down her lunch. The food looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel—beautifully plated, gourmet, and best of all, completely free.
The girl took a small bite, letting the flavors distract her from everything.
That peace shattered when a voice floated over from the next table.
"You know Qasim Rahman got suspended," said a girl, her voice loud, tinged with satisfaction.
Another chimed in, "Honestly, it's a relief. That guy was dangerous. Full of himself."
"Yeah," added a third. "Whoever that girl was—she must be brave to report the owner's son. Or should we say, the Prince of the university?"
Pakhi froze mid-bite. Her body tensed. For a second, it felt like gravity had disappeared.
"He doesn't even know who she is," said another girl. "His dad didn't tell him."
"But come on," the first voice returned. "Qasim's smart. He'll find out. You'll see."
The fork trembled in her hand. Appetite gone. Panic swelled in her chest like an oncoming storm.
Somehow, she got through the next lecture. Her body sat in the seat, but her mind remained distant, clouded by fear and what-ifs.
When she reached home that afternoon, one decision had solidified:
it was time to tell her parents. Everything.
---
As she neared her front door, something odd caught her attention. It was slightly open.
Voices filtered through from inside.
"She started university today," came her mother's voice. "Do you think she'll manage?"
A laugh followed. Her father's. "Our daughter? Manage? She's too soft. Remember her first day of school? Cried because someone broke her pencil. She's probably crying somewhere now too."
Laughter. From both of them.
They were joking. Teasing.
But to her, it didn't feel like a joke.
The words pierced like needles, undoing all the courage she had spent the day building.
Without entering, the girl turned and hurried to the nearest public washroom near their building. Inside the small, dimly lit space, she locked the door, sank to the floor, and cried silently.
One hour turned into two.
Homework was completed in that same space, the pages damp from occasional tears.
By the time she returned home, some workers were leaving. Her parents greeted her with wide smiles.
"Oh, welcome home, our dear Pakhi!" her father beamed. "How was your first day at university?"
She stood at the door, her father's earlier words echoing—only knows how to cry… never gives us peace.
"Pakhi?" he repeated, still smiling. "Are you listening?"
A practiced smile stretched across her face. "Yes! It was... the best day of my life! Everyone wanted to sit with me. They even helped me find the class. I made so many new friends!"
Her mother clapped with delight. "See? What did I say? Whether school or university—Pakhi is always the star! Everyone loves her!"
The girl nodded along, the smile never wavering.
Pretending she hadn't been rejected from seat after seat.
Pretending she wasn't the target of silent threats.
Pretending she hadn't cried in a public restroom for an hour straight.
Pretending to be the daughter they believed in.
All the while, her mind stayed stuck—replaying the bullying, the loneliness, the betrayal—locked inside her chest, where no one could hear it scream.
And beyond that?
She didn't even know what came next. When her parents give her more bigger shock than Qasim being the University's prince