The café was buzzing more than usual.  The air was thick with anticipation, a low hum of whispers and half-hidden grins. Everyone knew about bet and Everyone was ready to see what will Avneet do now..

And when Avneet entered, heads turned, Some people straightened in their seats; others lowered their voices, curious eyes trailing her path.

Her minions trailed behind her, Avneet thrived on it. She soaked in every glance, every whisper. It was her stage.

At a corner table, Ritika sat frozen. Her face looked pale even under the café’s warm light. Her hands were tangled in her lap, twisting the hem of her sweater until the threads pulled loose.

Avneet stopped in front of her. She didn’t sit. She stood tall, arms folded, looking down like a queen inspecting a prisoner.

“Well, Ritika,” Avneet’s voice rang sharp, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “do you remember our little bet?”

Ritika lifted her head slowly, her throat tight. “Avneet… maybe we don’t have to...”

“Oh, but we do.” Avneet leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Because I won. You lost. And I always, always collect what’s owed to me. You challenged my position and now you have to go on your knees and tell the world who rules here.”

The crowd shifted closer, a living wall of curiosity and judgment. Phones tilted up, cameras opening. Some students grinned, others looked uneasy, but no one dared intervene.

Avneet tilted her head like a cat toying with prey. “So, what’s it going to be? Or shall I remind you? You know what I can do right... you know that your dad has this big partnership going on with my dad and if my dad pulls off the funds...”

“On your knees.” Avneet said it like a command, not a suggestion. “Right now. In front of everyone. And you’re going to say it.”

Gasps spread like sparks in dry grass. Someone muttered, “She can’t mean that.” But everyone knew Avneet did.

Ritika shook her head, panic rising in her chest. Her knees pressed into the floor before her will gave in.

The canteen erupted in noise — half-laughter, half-disbelief. Some clapped mockingly. Others leaned closer, their faces lit with the glow of their phone screens, recording every second.

Avneet’s lips curled into a cruel smile. She bent low, whispering in Ritika’s ear, though her words carried loud enough to the crowd. “Go on. Tell them. Tell them who I am.”

Ritika’s throat tightened, but the weight of the stares crushed her. Her voice cracked as she obeyed. “Avneet is… untouchable. She’s… the queen bee.”

Mocking applause. Laughter like knives. A chant started and died in the corner. Avneet’s minions squealed in delight, clapping like she had just been crowned.

Avneet touched Ritika’s cheek mockingly, brushing away a strand of hair. “Good girl,” she cooed. Then, louder: “See, even Ritika knows her place now. Finally.”

“You will regret this” Ritika said. But Avneet ignored her.

She stood tall, flipping her hair over her shoulder, soaking in the admiration. For her, this was power — victory dressed in humiliation. She spread her arms slightly, like an empress accepting the worship of her court.

But in the shadows, away from the noise, Siddharth watched.

He stood under the archway, half-hidden, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. To the crowd, he was invisible. To Avneet, not yet.

He saw Ritika trembling on her knees. He saw Avneet basking in her cruelty. And somewhere inside him, a hollow ache pressed against an old wound — the familiar weight of helplessness.

It reminded him of nights locked in his father’s study, his voice cold as he laid out deals that chained Siddharth’s life. It reminded him of losing his sister to shadows he couldn’t fight. It reminded him of every time he was made powerless.

And yet, he didn’t move. Not yet. His face was carved from stone, his anger sealed tight behind clenched teeth.

Avneet glanced across the room then, her eyes catching his. For the briefest second, her smirk faltered.

Because Siddharth wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t clapping. He wasn’t like the others.

The noise faded for her, blurred into meaningless sound. The only thing sharp was his gaze — steady, unreadable, unblinking.

The café was nearly empty now, but the air still crackled with the residue of humiliation and laughter.

Siddharth was still there.

He leaned against the wall near the door, arms folded, his face shadowed. He hadn’t clapped. He hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t even blinked. He had only watched.

The silence between them stretched as she moved forward, forcing her smirk back into place. “So,” she drawled, adjusting her  sleeve like she was brushing dust off diamonds, “did you enjoy the show?”

Siddharth didn’t move. He didn’t answer.

She clicked her tongue. “What? No applause for the queen bee?”

Still nothing. Just that stare. unyielding, unreadable. It made her pulse tick faster, though she’d never admit it.

Finally, he stepped forward. Each step was deliberate, his presence swallowing the space between them. Avneet found herself tilting her chin up to hold his gaze, but his eyes… his eyes weren’t the boyish hazel she once mocked. They were darker, storm-laden, carrying something heavier than anger.

“You drugged me.” His voice was steady, each word pressed like steel. “You used me. Because of a bet?!”

The air shifted. Her smirk faltered, then reassembled with practiced ease. She gave a small laugh, flicking her hair back. “Oh, Siddharth… don’t be so dramatic. It was one night. You’ll live.”

His jaw clenched. “You stole something I can never take back!”

Her throat tightened. For a flicker of a second, she almost looked away. But no, she wouldn’t let him see weakness. She reached for her purse, Pulling out her sleek black card, she dropped it on the table with a snap.

“Fine. You want compensation? Name your price.”

For a moment, silence. Then Siddharth pulled out his phone. Calmly. Too calmly. A few taps. Her own phone buzzed in her hand.

She looked down. The number on the screen made her breath hitch. He had transferred her double what she was even thinking of offering.

When she looked back up, his expression was carved from fury and restraint.

“Keep your money,” he said, voice cutting through her like glass. “I don’t need it. I’ll never need anything from you.”

Avneet blinked, startled, masking it with brittle laughter. “So what? You think this makes you… better than me?”

He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of his rage, though his voice stayed low and calm.

“No,” Siddharth whispered. “It makes me untouchable. You can’t buy me. You can’t own me. You can’t turn me into one of your trophies. Do you know why?”

His voice cracked.

“Because all my life, people have tried to take my choices away. My father. His enemies. This world. Even fate itself. And now you. You think drugging me, using me for your bet, makes you powerful? No, Avneet. It makes you pitiful.”

Her lips parted. The smirk slipped, just for a second.

He pressed on, his eyes burning. “Do you know what it feels like to wake up and not know what’s been done to you? To feel your skin crawling with disgust, your chest caving in, your soul screaming that you were nothing but a pawn in someone else’s game?”

Avneet’s heart skipped. She had mocked boys before, broken their pride. But this… this was different. His words had weight, the kind that sank into her chest no matter how she tried to shrug it off.

She knew how it felt... She just didn't want to show. She had felt it. She had felt worse.

Siddharth’s voice rose, still steady but shaking with emotion. “I wasn’t your bet. I wasn’t your joke. I wasn’t your victory. I was a person, Avneet. A human being. And you—” his voice cracked again, eyes glistening with restrained tears, “you took my pride and spat on it. For what? A crown of glass? A roomful of idiots clapping?”

Avneet couldn’t find her tongue something like guilt flickered in her chest.

But Siddharth wasn’t done. He took one final step, his face inches from hers, his voice sharp enough to scar.

“You wanted to prove you’re untouchable. But today, all you proved is that you’re hollow. And one day, Avneet Kaur… all your bets, all your games, all your power, it will burn to ash. And when it does, you’ll remember this. You’ll remember me. The man you thought you broke.”

He pulled back then, leaving her standing frozen, the weight of his words pressing harder than any slap could.

For a moment — just a moment, Avneet wanted to stop him. Run to him... Hug him... Tell him nothing happened... She hadn't touched him. She couldn't bring herself to violate him...

And Siddharth, with his phone still in his hand, turned away. Leaving her drowning in the silence of her own victory turned sour.