Siddharth staggered into his room after the fight, sweat and blood still clinging to his skin. His body ached from the blows, but none of it compared to the heaviness crushing his chest. He collapsed on the chair by the window, staring blankly at the night sky. The city lights blinked back at him, mocking him with their freedom.

He pressed his fists against his temples. The pounding in his head wouldn’t stop. Avneet’s voice slithered through his thoughts—her smirk, her mocking tone, the way she whispered in his ear like she had won. His jaw tightened. No, she hadn’t won. She only opened a wound she could never close.

And beneath that wound, an older scar pulsed. His sister.

It had been years since she was taken. One moment she was there, laughing, tugging at his hand, begging him to play with her, and the next she was gone. Snatched by enemies in a war he hadn’t even understood back then. Every night since, her face haunted him. Her cries echoed in his nightmares. He had begged his father to save her, to do something, anything.

His father had only sneered, gripping his jaw with iron fingers:
"You want to save her? Then you’ll obey me. You’ll wear the crown of my sins, even if the world spits on you. You are nothing but my illegitimate son. No place in my world, no name, no respect. But if you want your sister alive then you will bleed for me."

Siddharth had agreed. What choice did he have? Every deal, every command, he did it all with her in mind. The sister who might still be out there. The sister who needed him.

But Avneet had ripped that fragile illusion of control away. She had drugged him, trapped him, made him helpless, just like that day when he failed to protect his sister. Just like when his father reminded him he was nothing but a pawn.

The memory crushed him. His body shook, not from exhaustion but from rage. Tears stung his eyes, hot and unwanted, and he slammed his fists against the wooden desk until his knuckles split open again.

The more he bled, the sharper his resolve became. Pain was nothing. Shame was nothing. All that mattered was the vow echoing inside him:

'I will never be powerless again. I will find her. I will destroy anyone who makes me feel like nothing. I will break them before they break me.'

—

The next morning, Siddharth stood in front of the mirror buttoning his crisp white shirt. His knuckles were swollen, raw from the fight, but he slid them into his pockets to hide the damage. His face looked pale, lips split, but his hazel eyes were… different. Not empty anymore. Cold. Calculated.

He knocked his belt slowly, deliberately. Every movement felt like armor being fastened. By the time he slung his bag over his shoulder, the mask was ready. No one would see the blood, the rage, the vows burned into his skin the night before. They’d only see Siddharth Nigam- quiet, detached, unreachable.

The college campus buzzed with life as usual. Students laughed, music from last night’s party still the topic of gossip. Siddharth walked through the crowd like a shadow, unnoticed, untouched. His head was held straight, his gaze steady. If anyone called his name, he didn’t hear it.

But one person noticed.

Avneet.

She spotted him near the fountain, standing alone, flipping through his phone as if the world hadn’t just shifted. She remembered last night, the way his tears had streamed, the way he had broken under her control, the way she had laughed as she “won.” She expected him to look destroyed this morning. Humiliated.

Instead, he looked… dangerous.

Her lips curved into a teasing smile. As she brushed past him, she leaned close enough that only he could hear.
“Morning, baby boy. Slept well?”

Her voice was honey laced with poison. Normally, his jaw would tighten, his fists would clench, his anger would betray him. But this time, nothing. He lifted his eyes from the phone and looked at her. Just one look. Flat. Cold. Like a blade pressed against her throat without even moving.

And then he walked away.

No response. No rage. No shame. Just silence.

Avneet felt a twinge of unease crawl down her spine. She had won the bet. She had drugged him, used him, mocked him, and flaunted her power. But the boy she had broken yesterday… didn’t look broken anymore.

In fact, he looked like he has something else going on in his mind. Something that terrified her more than his hatred ever could.

Siddharth slipped into class and took a seat in the back, his expression unreadable as the lecture carried on. On the outside, he was calm. Just another student. But inside, the fire roared louder than ever.

Every word the professor spoke blurred into nothing as his mind repeated a single promise:

Never again. Not Avneet. Not my father. Not anymore.

Avneet walked towards him when class ended. She expected him to glance at her the way he always did before—with that mix of longing and judging, maybe even shame. She expected to see hurt stamped across his face, the proof of her victory.

Instead, she saw nothing.

He didn’t look up once. Not when she walked past him. Not when she leaned over his desk, letting her perfume linger in the air. Not even when she “accidentally” brushed her hand against his shoulder as she slid into the seat next to him.

His gaze stayed fixed on his notebook, pen moving in deliberate strokes.

Annoyed, she leaned closer, her lips near his ear. “Still quiet, baby boy? Or did last night take all the energy out of you?” she whispered, biting back a laugh.

nothing.

He simply turned his head, his hazel eyes meeting hers for the first time. But they weren’t the eyes of the boy she had mocked and broken. They were colder, sharper, like a predator studying prey. The stillness in them was worse than fury, it was unreadable.

For a heartbeat, Avneet’s smirk faltered. She quickly covered it with a scoff and leaned back in her chair, but her chest tightened.

What was this? Why wasn’t he reacting? Why wasn’t he angry?

She tapped her nails against the desk, trying to regain her control. “You know,” she said louder this time, enough for a few students around them to hear, “I never thought you’d be such a lightweight. Can’t even handle a little party drink.” She chuckled as if it were an inside joke.

Some students looked back curiously. A few snickered.

But Siddharth didn’t move. Didn’t defend himself. Didn’t even blink. He just stared straight ahead, the ghost of a smile flickering on his lips, so faint she almost thought she imagined it.

As if her words hadn’t even touched him. But deep inside, she knew. Something had shifted. The boy she thought she could bend and break at will… was gone. And that unsettled her more than anything.