Aryan had learned one rule early in life.
If you don't want trouble, stay invisible.
That was why he always chose the last bench of Class 10-B.
From there, he could see everyone—
but no one really saw him.
The classroom buzzed with noise.
Friends talking. Benches dragging. Bags slamming.
Aryan sat quietly, his notebook already open, pen held neatly between his fingers. His uniform was clean but old, washed too many times. His shoes had lost their shine long ago.
"Hey."
The word was sharp.
Aryan stiffened.
"Hey, last bencher."
He didn't look up. He already knew who it was.
Raghav Singh.
Topper. Basketball captain. The kind of guy teachers praised and students followed without question.
A shadow fell over Aryan's desk.
"I'm talking to you," Raghav said.
Slowly, Aryan raised his head.
"Yes?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Raghav smirked and tossed a thick notebook onto Aryan's desk.
"My notes. Finish them by tomorrow."
Aryan stared at the notebook.
"I… I have tuition today," he said carefully.
For a second, the classroom went quiet.
Then laughter.
Raghav leaned forward, placing both hands on Aryan's desk.
"Tuition?" he repeated, amused.
"Since when do nobodies have tuition?"
More laughter followed.
Aryan felt his ears burn.
"I'll try," he said, even though he knew he couldn't.
Raghav straightened and kicked Aryan's bag aside.
"You'll do more than try," he said calmly.
"Or you'll stay back after school. Again."
The bell rang.
The teacher walked in.
And just like that, Raghav turned away—
as if Aryan had never existed.
Classes passed slowly.
Math. Science. History.
Aryan answered when asked, always correctly, always quietly. Teachers nodded but never looked twice.
During lunch, Aryan ate alone.
He was used to it.
Pain was easier when it became routine.
After school, the classroom emptied quickly.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags zipped shut.
Soon, Aryan was alone.
Again.
He picked up the broom and began cleaning the floor. Dust rose into the air, stinging his eyes.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
His heart sank.
"You're slow."
Raghav stood near the door, arms crossed. Two boys stood beside him.
"I'm almost done," Aryan said.
Raghav walked closer.
"You think ignoring me in class makes you brave?"
"I didn't—"
The push came suddenly.
Aryan stumbled back, hitting a desk. Pain shot through his shoulder.
Something cracked.
Not a bone.
Something deeper.
All the laughter.
All the silence.
All the times he had swallowed his anger.
It came rushing up.
Raghav stepped forward again.
"What? You want to cry now?"
Aryan looked at him.
And for the first time—
He didn't look away.
His body moved before his mind could stop it.
One step.
One punch.
The sound was loud.
Too loud.
Raghav flew back and crashed into a desk. Wood splintered. The desk fell.
Silence.
Aryan stood frozen.
His fist hurt.
But his chest felt empty.
The school bell rang—long and sharp.
Aryan stared at Raghav's unmoving body.
What did I do…?
Fear crashed into him.
He dropped the broom.
And ran.