It had been two days since I last saw him.
I didn’t know why, but the moment I entered the school, my eyes automatically searched for him.
Did I miss him?
I didn’t know.
Yet my thoughts kept circling around one question—why?
Mrs. Sharma hadn’t scolded me these days.
I knew the reason.
It was because of him.
“Ma’am, when will my mommy come?” one of my students asked me cutely.
Back to earth, Ritika, I scolded myself internally.
“She’ll come soon, dear,” I replied with a soft smile.
Right. Today was the parents’ meeting.
I was teaching Grade 3 as a substitute since the other teacher hadn’t come. Normally, I taught Grade 8, and I couldn’t wait to go back to my own class.
Soon, the bell rang.
I walked down the corridor, adjusting my saree, when suddenly my foot got caught in its edge. I lost my balance.
Before I could fall, a strong hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back firmly.
My breath hitched.
I closed my eyes tightly.
A moment later, I realized I was standing—safe.
Relief washed over me, but it vanished when I felt how close he was.
I immediately stepped away.
“I—I'm sorry,” I blurted out without looking up.
“Careful, Miss Mehra.”
That voice.
Low. Controlled. Dangerous… yet calm.
I slowly lifted my gaze.
It was Rudraveer.
His eyes held no panic, no surprise—only a sharp, unreadable calm. His grip had been firm, protective, as if falling wasn’t an option he allowed.
“I didn’t mean to—” I started, my voice trembling slightly.
“You would’ve fallen,” he said simply.
There was no concern in his tone, yet his presence felt overpowering. Like he was used to controlling situations… and people.
“I… thank you,” I whispered.
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary. His eyes scanned my face, as if checking something silently.
“You should watch where you walk,” he said, his voice still even. “This place isn’t as harmless as it looks.”
I frowned, confused. “It’s a school…”
A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips—not warm, not cold. Just… knowing.
“Exactly.”
Rudraveer finally stepped back, increasing the distance—but his presence still lingered.
“Take care,” he said shortly.
And then he walked away, his footsteps steady, unhurried… like a man who feared nothing.
I stood there frozen, my heart racing.
I wasn’t scared.
But I wasn’t calm either.
Something about Rudraveer felt dangerous in a way I couldn’t explain… and for reasons unknown, my heart had started noticing him.
The parents’ meeting was almost over when she walked in.
The woman’s face was tight with irritation, her son standing beside her with his head lowered. I had barely opened the report file when she spoke.
“So you’re the teacher responsible for this?” she asked sharply, tapping the paper.
“These marks are unacceptable.”
I swallowed. “Ma’am, he is trying. With a little support at home, I’m sure—”
“Support?” she scoffed loudly, attracting attention from nearby teachers and parents. “If you were doing your job properly, I wouldn’t need to give support.”
My fingers tightened around the file.
“Children learn differently,” I said softly. “Scolding him won’t help—”
“Oh, spare me the lectures,” she snapped..
“Teachers like you are the reason children fail. You’re too soft. No discipline. No seriousness.”
The words stung. Badly
I tried to speak, but my voice refused to come out. My throat burned, my eyes blurred.
Another teacher beside us intervened casually, “Ritika, maybe you should focus more on weak students.”
That broke something inside me.
“I… I will try,” I whispered.
The woman snatched the report card and walked away without another word, dragging her son along.
I stood there, frozen.
I wanted to explain. To defend myself.
But I couldn’t.
By the time the meeting ended, my eyes were heavy, my chest tight. I avoided everyone and quietly walked out into the corridor, clutching my bag.
I just wanted to go home.
As I turned the corner, I felt it.
Someone watching me.
I wiped my eyes quickly, but it was too late.
“Ritika”
I stopped.
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want him to see.
But he already had.
Rudraveer stepped in front of me, his sharp eyes immediately softening—then darkening.
“Why are your eyes red?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, stepping aside.
“Just tired.”
He didn’t move.
Who said something to you?” His voice was calm, but something dangerous lay underneath.
“No one,” I replied, lowering my gaze.
“Please… I need to go.”
I tried to walk past him.
He caught my wrist—not tight, not hurting—just enough to stop me.
“Ritika,” he said quietly. “You don’t cry for no reason.”
My lips trembled. I pulled my hand back.
It’s really nothing,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
And I walked away.
I didn’t look back.
But I could feel his gaze burning into my back.
Behind me, Rudraveer stood still for a moment. His jaw clenched.
“Viyaan,” he said coldly.
Viyaan appeared instantly. “Yeah?”
“Find out,” Rudraveer said. “Who spoke to her. Who made her cry.”
Viyaan’s smile faded. “Got it.”
Rudraveer’s eyes followed me till I disappeared down the corridor.
“No one,” he muttered to himself, “gets to make her feel small.”
I didn’t follow her.
Didn’t need to.
The way her shoulders stiffened before she walked away told me everything. She was hurt. And someone had the audacity to make her feel small.
My jaw tightened.
I pulled my phone out slowly, thumb hovering for half a second—long enough for the rage to settle into something far more dangerous.
Control.
I brought it to my ear.
“Get to me,” I said. No greeting. No names.
They answered instantly.
“Yes, boss.”
“Someone spoke to her,” I continued, voice low, lethal. “Someone crossed a line.”
Silence on the other end. They knew that tone.
“I want names. Faces. Words. Every detail.”
A pause. Then, colder—
“And I want it fast.”
“Understood.”
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
The corridor was empty now. She was gone.
Good.
Because if she’d stayed, she might’ve seen the part of me I keep buried—the part that doesn’t forgive. The part that doesn’t warn.
I exhaled slowly.
“No one,” I muttered, eyes darkening,
“touches what’s mine and walks away breathing.”
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