đź“… Sunday, 6th August
đź“Ť Hill Trail behind Nandanpur
The air was crisp, the sky washed in a gentle blue, and a quiet breeze blew through the red soil paths of Nandanpur. Nine friends—each at different ages, yet strangely in sync—walked up the trail to the ridge that overlooked Devgarh valley.
It was Simran's last day before heading back home, and Ishanvi had insisted they all go trekking.
"Let's end the weekend on a high place," she grinned, pointing to the tree-crowned hill.
"Pun intended?" Aariv said, rolling his eyes.
They rode up to the base of the trail on four scooters, parked them under a banyan tree, and began walking. Meera and Vivaan were busy collecting odd-shaped leaves, while Raghav and Vaidehi argued over who packed the better lunch. Simran was walking between Ishanvi and Vrinda, asking about the strange stories of the forest.
The moment was golden. Until it wasn't.
🟥 The Trouble on the Trail
Near the top, a narrow trail curved past an old broken shrine, and that's where they saw them—three grown boys, 17 or 18, rough-looking, laughing loudly and eating chips.
At first, they ignored them. But as Vivaan, Meera, and Simran passed ahead, the boys whistled mockingly.
"Oh look, little chicks going for a picnic."
"Careful you don't fall, princess!" one of them sneered, trying to block Simran's path.
"Nice ponytails. Want us to braid 'em?" said another, leaning far too close to Meera.
Vivaan froze, fists clenched. Simran's face twisted in disgust.
"Move," she said calmly.
The tallest boy laughed.
"Or what, kid?"
Before anyone else could react, Ishanvi's voice cut through like a knife.
"They said move."
The tone—calm, direct, sharp—made all heads turn.
She and Abhay had walked ahead without a word, and now stood just a few steps from the bullies.
Abhay's eyes, normally full of softness, were cold. Ishanvi's body was relaxed—but her feet had subtly shifted to stance.
"These are our siblings," she added. "You don't get to talk to them like that."
"Or what, miss ninja?" mocked the second boy.
Big mistake.
🟦 The Calm Before the Storm
One of the boys reached out to shove Abhay's shoulder.
It never landed.
Abhay caught the wrist mid-air, and before the guy could react, twisted it gently—but firmly—behind his back. No flash, no force. Just smooth, trained motion. The boy yelped and stepped back.
At the same moment, Ishanvi spun and ducked under a second swing from another boy, swept her leg out, and knocked him flat—again, not brutally, but with precise control.
Silence fell. Even wind paused.
"Black belts," whispered Simran with awe.
The third boy backed off.
"We didn't mean trouble," he muttered.
"Then stop creating it," Abhay said, releasing the wrist gently.
"And next time," Ishanvi added, "don't mistake quiet kids for weak ones."
The boys limped away down the hill, not even looking back.
🟨 The Walk After
Everyone stood stunned for a moment.
Then Meera hugged Ishanvi, Vivaan clapped Abhay's back with admiration, and Simran just stared.
"Okay that was... cool," she finally breathed.
"I told you," Vaidehi grinned. "They're more than school toppers."
"Why'd you hide this side of you?" Simran asked.
"Because we don't need to prove it," Ishanvi replied. "Only protect when it matters."
They reached the cliff edge, spread out their lunch, and ate quietly, watching the birds dip through the valley. No more teasing. No more pretending.
Just quiet pride and unspoken strength.