Chapter 1
Early morning, and my father was already shouting in the living room. His voice carried through the whole house. As usual, Grandmother was in the kitchen, quietly praying for some peace.
“Kabir! One day this attitude of yours is going to get you into serious trouble. You have zero respect for elders. You just open your mouth and say whatever comes to mind!”
His face was red. The newspaper was shaking in his hand. He had been going on about how well Sharma uncle’s son was doing, and I had interrupted him.
I told him straight that Sharma uncle’s son talks shit about his own friends behind their backs.
To my father, that counted as disrespect.
Of course it did. In this house, telling the truth is worse than lying. As long as you smile and nod, you’re the perfect son. The moment you say something real, you’re the problem.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, took a breath, and walked to the door without looking at him.
“Dad, truth is truth. I’m not going to lie just to make someone feel good,” I said, and shut the main gate harder than I needed to.
I could already hear him complaining to Mom later. “This boy has no manners.” Same story every week.
I’ve always believed that if you’re soft, people walk all over you. That’s why I preferred walking alone in the school corridors with my earphones in and my hoodie up. It kept most people away.
The backbenchers treated me like their unofficial boss, and I didn’t have the patience for girls and their drama. I liked the way people looked at me — like I was someone you didn’t mess with.
It felt safe that way. No expectations. No one trying to fix me or change me. Just distance.
Everything was fine in my little world. Until her.
Aanya.
I never got her. She watched me like it was her full-time job. She somehow always knew who I was talking to, what I ordered in the canteen, which bench I was sitting on. Sometimes it felt like she had someone following me.
Why me? There were plenty of other guys in school. Why did she pick the one person who clearly didn’t want her attention?
And the worst part? The camera.
She was obsessed with recording. Phone always ready. If I dozed off in class and jerked awake, she was there. If I dropped sauce on my shirt while eating a samosa, she was already filming from behind.
It wasn’t even funny anymore. It was like she was collecting evidence of every time I looked stupid. Like she was waiting for me to mess up so she could prove something.
The second I stepped into the corridor that morning, her voice came from behind me.
“Oho, school Don is late again?”
I turned. There she was, phone up, that same annoying smile on her face. Her two friends stood behind her, trying not to laugh.
“Are you out of your mind? Stop recording me. Delete it.”
“Why would I delete it? Your angry face is comedy gold. Also, your hair looks like a mess today. Trying to look cool or did you just give up?”
She laughed loud enough that a couple of seniors turned to look.
Great. Now half the corridor was watching. Exactly what I needed first thing in the morning.
“I’m not a joker. Your stupid habit is. Bring that camera near my face again and I’ll throw it,” I said and started walking.
“Wow, Don is angry. By the way, your name’s on the board. You skipped assembly. Go check.”
I almost gave her the finger without turning around, but then I saw the discipline teacher walking toward us. I shoved my hand back into my pocket.
She always knew exactly when to push. Like she timed it on purpose.
Everyone called her Angel. Teachers’ favourite. Seniors’ crush. Juniors’ role model. I couldn’t stand that sweet face she put on for everyone else. The second she saw me, the devil came out.
It was almost impressive how quickly she switched. One second the perfect student, the next second my personal headache.
One afternoon she was sitting on the lawn outside the library with her friends, laughing over some magazine. The moment she spotted me, she left them and blocked my path.
“Why is the biggest Don of the school so quiet today?” she said, soft and teasing. “Someone steal your lunch?”
I looked at her for a second. Hair open, same confident look that always pissed me off. I walked past without saying anything.
Don’t engage. Just keep walking. She’s not worth it.
Two steps later her voice followed me.
“Where are you going with all that attitude? Share some, we also want to look cool.”
I genuinely wanted to bang my head against the wall.
Ignoring that girl was the hardest thing in school. She never ran out of things to say, and somehow every single one of them got under my skin.
