[ LUNCH BREAK ] The corridors emptied slowly. Students streamed toward the canteen, toward the courtyard, toward the benches beneath the old banyan trees. The morning classes were over.
Maya walked toward the library — the quiet hall on the second floor, where the shelves rose to the ceiling and the only sound was the soft turning of pages.
Priya stood at the end of the corridor with two of her friends — Rumi and a tall girl named Sadia who knew exactly how to make her voice sound reasonable while saying terrible things.
She leaned against the wall and watched Maya approach with the patient look of someone who had been waiting.
Maya slowed, her eye moved from Priya to Rumi, to the narrow gap between them and the wall,she catalogued it the way she catalogued everything.
Priya pushed off the wall and stepped forward.
"Maya."
Maya stopped. "...Yes?"
"You're going to the library."
Maya said nothing.
"You're always going to the library, every free period. Always alone. Don't you get lonely?"
"...No."
"No?" Priya's eyebrows rose. "You don't get lonely sitting by yourself every day with your books?"
"No."
Priya exchanged a glance with Rumi. "See? I told you. She thinks she's better than us."
Rumi stepped forward, closing the distance until she was standing directly in front of Maya, close enough that her voice dropped to a murmur.
"You think you're untouchable because you have a fancy book and good grades. You think you're special because the teachers like you."
She leaned in.
"But you're not special. You're nothing. You're the quiet girl in the corner that nobody would notice if you disappeared tomorrow."
Her hand closed around the strap of Maya's schoolbag and yanked it off her shoulder.
The bag swung free and before Maya could reach for it, Priya had already pulled it out of her reach.
"Let's see what's in here."
"Give it back."
"Or what?"
Priya was already unzipping it. Rumi and Sadia crowded in, peering over her shoulder. A pencil case, a notebook and the book.
Priya pulled it out — the black matte cover, the silver lettering, the spine perfectly uncreased.
"Here it is," she said, holding it up. "The famous book that made her think she was special."
She flipped it open.
"Don't." Maya's voice was quiet but something in it had changed.
Priya looked up. "Or .... What?"
"I said don't."
"Don't what?" Priya's smile widened. "Turn the page or don't look at your precious little book?"
She turned a page, then another. "What are you going to do about it, Maya? Cry, run to a teacher? Tell on me?"
She turned another page — carelessly,the spine cracked, she held the book out, dangling it by one corner.
"You know what I think? I think someone gave this to you. Someone important, someone you don't deserve."
She smiled. "And I think it would be a shame if something happened to it."
Ohhhh. Yama's voice was no longer drowsy. It was awake, wide awake. Did she just threaten the book? Did she just threaten HIS book?
Maya did not answer.
Maya, answer me. Did she just threaten you? And you're just standing there? Why?
"Because if I move, I will hurt her."
Yama laughed. Oh, I know. I know you will. That's what I'm waiting for. But hurt her how, Maya? Hurt her a little? Or hurt her so badly she never speaks again?
"Yama."
I'm just asking.
"You're not just asking."
I'm asking with enthusiasm. That's different.
"...Go back to sleep."
Not a chance. This is the most interesting thing that's happened all week and do you know what I would do if I were in control right now?
"...No."
Yama leaned closer, her blue eyes bright and hungry, I'd take the book back first.
Then I'd take something of hers in return, nothing too much, just something small enough for her to dismiss, yet important enough for her to notice its absence.
Something she'd desperately wish she could get back. Perhaps a finger. Maybe a hand. But then again, why should I stop there?
She took something that she had no right to take. And I want her to understand what that feels like.
"Yama."
What? I'm being reasonable. I'm offering options.
"You're being you."
That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Maya turned toward Rumi. Without raising her voice or showing the slightest hint of irritation, she held out her hand and said quietly, "I'd like my book back, please."
Sadia hesitated, just for a heartbeat, then she laughed. "Hey, look at her, Priya!"
She whispered, nudging her friend while keeping her eyes fixed on Maya. "Did you see the way she looked at you? I swear, I've never seen anything like it. It was more like…"
She let out a disbelieving laugh. "I don't know how to explain it. It was as if you weren't even worth getting angry at.
Like whatever you said — was so insignificant to her that she couldn't even be bothered to react. Honestly, that might be even more insulting than if she'd actually yelled at you."
Priya's jaw tightened, her expression darkening as she shot her friend a sharp, warning glance. "Shut up."
She moved toward a bucket sitting on the landing — the kind the cleaning staff used filled with gray water, left there while they took their break.
Her lips curled into a faint, spiteful smile. Without warning, she raised the bucket and tipped its contents over Maya.
The water struck Maya squarely in the chest.The sudden cold soaked through her white shirt in an instant, spreading across the fabric and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
Some of the water splashed across her face —trickling down her cheeks and chin, while damp strands of hair clung to her forehead.
She stood there, while the water ran down her legs and darkened the concrete beneath her.
Priya laughed. "There,now you look like everyone else." Rumi laughed, loud like it was all a joke.
Maya's glasses had fogged. She reached up and took them off, she wiped them on the sleeve of her shirt and put them back on.
Sadia had been leaning against the wall — the whole time, arms folded, watching but now she straightened. ".... You know what I think? I think she's faking."
Priya turned. "What?"
Sadia walked forward, stopping beside Priya.
"The quiet thing, the calm thing. I think she's just pretending to be mysterious because she does not have anything interesting to say, because she is empty."
She looked at Maya. "I bet there's nothing inside her, just — blank like a doll."
Rumi laughed. "Yeah, she's like a robot.Have you seen the gloves? She never takes them off. Not even in summer. What's wrong with her hands? Are they hideous?"
"Maybe she burned them."
"Maybe she cut herself."
"Maybe she's crazy, she's probably been in an asylum.That's why she's so quiet. "
"She's useless."
Maya stood in the middle of it, dripping wet, her
hair plastered to her face, she did not react, not once.
She stood there — the way she had stood in the reception hall on her first night in the Sunayana mansion, when every brother had stared at her like a stranger.
Priya turned toward Maya, her lips curling into a look of utter disdain." Absolutely pathetic. I have seen fools with more dignity, cowards with more courage.
Honestly, I expected nothing from you, you little rat—and somehow, you've still managed to fall below even that."
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🫣🫣
And then she dropped it.
---
The book hit the wet concrete floor.
It landed on its spine — the spine that was already cracked — and the pages splayed open, soaking up the water, the ink beginning to run, the cover bending, the silver lettering smearing.
Maya watched it fall.
She did not move.
She did not cry out.
She simply watched — as though she were watching something happen to someone else, in a room far away, through a window she could not open.
Priya stepped on it.
Not hard. Just enough. Just enough to leave a footprint on the black cover. Just enough to make the pages crumple.
"There," she said. "Now it matches you. Broken. Useless. Worthless."
She looked at Maya.
"Just like you."
---
The Silence
The corridor went quiet.
The water dripped from Maya's hair. From her clothes. From her gloves.
The book lay on the floor — bent, wet, ruined.
And Maya stood there.
Looking at it.
She did not speak.
She did not move.
She did not even seem to breathe.
The others watched her — waiting. Waiting for the reaction. Waiting for the tears. Waiting for something.
But nothing came.
She simply stood there — still and silent — the way she always did.
And somehow, that was worse.
---
Imran shifted uncomfortably. "Okay," he said. "This is — this is getting weird. Let's go."
"Shut up," Priya said.
"I'm just saying—"
"I said shut up."
Imran shut up.
Nusrat glanced at the book. Then at Maya. Then at the stairs.
"...Maybe we should go."
Priya turned on her. "Why? She's not going to do anything. Look at her. She never does anything."
She looked back at Maya.
"You never do anything, do you? You just stand there. You just take it. You just — let it happen."
She stepped closer.
"You're pathetic. You know that? You're the most pathetic person I've ever met. You think you're strong because you don't react. But you're not strong. You're nothing. You're just — empty."
She shoved Maya again.
Maya stumbled — one step back. Two.
Her back hit the railing.
And she stopped.
---
Yama
Deep in Maya's mind, the garden stirred.
The spider lilies swayed.
And Yama woke.
She did not wake slowly. She did not wake groggily, the way she did most mornings. She woke the way a blade wakes when it is drawn.
Her eyes opened.
Blue. Bright. Burning.
Maya.
Maya did not answer.
Maya. Look at me.
Maya did not answer.
Maya — look at what she did.
And Maya — for the first time — looked.
She looked at the book on the floor. The bent spine. The wet pages. The footprint on the cover.
Something in her chest tightened.
She broke it.
Maya said nothing.
She broke HIS book.
Maya said nothing.
The book he gave you. The book he spent money on. The book he thought about. The book that was supposed to mean something.
Yama's voice was rising.
And she broke it. Right in front of you. And you just — stood there.
Maya said nothing.
Why didn't you stop her?
Silence.
Why didn't you do something?
Silence.
You could have. You could have taken her hand and snapped every finger. You could have pushed her down the stairs. You could have —
"Because it wouldn't have changed anything."
Yama stopped.
What?
"It wouldn't have changed anything. The book would still be broken. She would still be cruel. I would still be wet."
So what?
"So it wouldn't have mattered."
It would have mattered to ME.
Maya closed her eyes.
"I know."
Then why didn't you—
"Because if I had," Maya said quietly, "I wouldn't have stopped. I would have kept going. And I would not have been able to stop until she was —"
She stopped.
Yama was silent.
Until she was what, Maya?
Maya did not answer.
Until she was what?
"...Dead."
The word hung in the garden like a stone.
The lilies swayed.
Yama leaned closer — her red hair spilling like fire, her blue eyes bright.
And would that have been so bad?
Maya said nothing.
Would it?
Maya opened her eyes.
"No," she said quietly. "It wouldn't."
Yama smiled — soft, delighted, cruel.
Then maybe you should have.
---
The Aftermath
The bell rang.
Far away — in another part of the building — the sound of students moving, doors opening, classes beginning.
Priya heard it. She looked toward the corridor, then back at Maya.
"...This isn't over."
Maya said nothing.
Priya turned and walked away.
Rumi followed. Then Sadia. Then Imran. Then Nusrat.
They left Maya standing on the stairs — wet, silent, alone.
She looked down at the book.
Then she bent down and picked it up.
It was heavier than it should have been. Waterlogged. Ruined.
She held it in both hands and looked at it — the bent cover, the smeared lettering, the footprint that would never come out.
Something in her chest hurt.
She did not know why.
It was just a book.
It was just paper and ink and glue.
It was just a thing.
And yet — for reasons she could not name — she could not let go of it.
She carried it to the library.
She sat down at her usual table.
She placed it on the surface in front of her.
And she did nothing.
She simply sat there — wet, dripping, silent — with her hands resting on either side of a ruined book.
---
And in the garden, Yama watched.
She watched Maya's stillness. She watched Maya's silence. She watched the way Maya's hands, resting on the table, had curled — just slightly — into fists.
You're thinking about it.
Maya did not answer.
You're thinking about what I said.
Maya did not answer.
You're thinking about killing her.
Maya closed her eyes.
"...Yes."
Yama's voice softened.
Good.
That's the most honest thing you've said all day.
Maya said nothing.
But you won't do it. Not yet. Not today.
"...No."
Because you're still pretending.
"...Yes."
Because you still think you're a person.
Maya did not answer.
Yama laughed — soft, delighted, cruel.
You're not. But that's okay. One day you'll realize that. And on that day —
She leaned closer.
— I'll be waiting.
Maya opened her eyes.
And looked at the book.
And said nothing at all.