A new session.
Same school, same uniform… but somehow everything felt different.
Class 6-C had that fresh chaos of new beginnings — half old faces, half strangers still figuring out where to sit. Mayank dropped his bag onto the third bench from the front and looked around.
So this is it, huh? New year, new battlefield.
Behind him, Krishanu was already laughing with a bunch of familiar faces — kids they'd met over the past two years apart. It was like the two of them had never missed a beat. The trio of benches in front were theirs now — loud, restless, always buzzing with pranks and chatter.
They weren't troublemakers… not exactly. Just a bunch of kids who balanced good marks with mischief. They aced every test, topped every quiz, and still found time to draw mustaches on the class monitor's photo during lunch break.
It was the golden year — simple, carefree, filled with jokes and whispered secrets.
Until the day everything changed.
There was one shadow in 6-C everyone pretended not to see — Roshan.
The teachers called him "a handful." The students called him worse.
He sat in the last row, always surrounded by boys who looked like they'd rather be outside than in class.
The entire section's reputation suffered because of him. "Class 6-C? Oh, that's Roshan's class," other teachers would whisper. Mayank hated it, but what could they do? They were just kids.
Then one day, during recess, Roshan and his group cornered Mayank near the water cooler.
"Hey topper," one of them sneered, "You think sharing answers makes you smart, huh?"
Mayank frowned, unsure how to react. "I didn't—"
Before he could finish, they pushed his shoulder lightly — not hard, not yet. Just enough to make their point. Krishanu wasn't around that day. Neither were most of his friends.
He brushed it off, forced a laugh, and walked away.
It wasn't that serious, right? Boys roughhousing. It would stop.
Except… it didn't.
The teasing continued the next day.
Then the day after.
And when no one stopped them, they grew bolder.
By the end of the week, Mayank could feel their eyes on him every time he stood up to answer a question.
He started laughing less.
Even Krishanu noticed.
"What's up with you these days?" he asked one afternoon.
"Nothing," Mayank lied.
"Come on, bro. I can tell something's off."
"It's fine, really. Don't make a big deal."
Krishanu frowned. "If it's those guys, just tell the teacher."
"Not worth it," Mayank said quickly. "They'll stop."
They didn't.
The next few days blurred together in a mix of tension and silence.
One morning, when most of his friends were absent, Roshan walked up again — smirking, careless, loud.
"Where's your little squad today, huh?" he jeered.
Mayank said nothing.
That only made it worse.
The push this time wasn't light. His bag hit the floor. A few notebooks scattered. The class went quiet, but no one moved. Roshan's older brother, Rohan, was infamous in the senior section — and everyone knew better than to interfere.
Mayank's cheek stung, but his pride hurt more.
He wanted to shout, to fight back, but all he did was pick up his books in silence.
That silence… was his biggest mistake.
After school, the story spread — quietly, awkwardly.
By the next morning, Krishanu knew. He slammed his hand on Mayank's desk the moment he walked in.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
"It wasn't a big deal."
"Not a big deal?!" Krishanu's eyes were sharp. "He hit you, Mayank!"
Mayank looked down, shame creeping in. "I just didn't want to start drama."
Krishanu clenched his fists. "Drama? Bro, this isn't drama. This is—" He stopped himself, realizing the class was watching.
The bell rang, and the noise drowned their words.
Roshan wasn't there that day. His seat sat empty, sunlight cutting across his desk.
No one said it aloud, but everyone felt it — a quiet, tense calm before something inevitable.
Mayank could feel it too.
Somewhere deep down, he knew this was the start of something bigger.
A thread of fate that had just begun to unravel.
To be continued…