The night air was cool, but Siddharth felt like he was burning from the inside. His footsteps echoed against the empty pavement as he walked away from Avneet’s hostel, but her words—her broken, drunken mumbling—clung to him like chains.

Don’t leave me alone…

He gritted his teeth, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as if he could bury the sound in his fists. But it stayed. It rang. It bled into his chest like a slow poison.

His footsteps echoed against the empty streets as his thoughts turned into a storm. Every image of her tonight replayed in his mind... her drunken laughter, her sudden collapse into confessions, the trembling in her voice when she admitted things no one else had heard.

Her words burned into him, but so did the questions.

For months, he had only seen one version of her: the arrogant, spoiled, untouchable Avneet Kaur. The girl who played games with hearts like they were toys, who strutted through life with a smirk that could cut glass. And yet… tonight he had seen something else. Something raw. Something ugly. Something that didn’t fit the mask.

His chest tightened. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the dark road ahead like it could answer him.

“How the hell…” his voice cracked in the emptiness.

“How?” he muttered under his breath, fists clenching in his pockets. “How the hell does that happen to her? She’s Avneet Kaur. Daughter of Shivaay Singh Oberoi — one of the richest, most powerful men in the damn world. Guards, money, status… everything at her feet. How could she not protect herself? How could her family not know?”

The anger in him wasn’t just rage anymore — it was confusion, disbelief. He could almost picture her younger, fifteen, wide-eyed, laughing too much, trusting too fast. And then the laugh replaced with a cry. Her pride replaced with shackles.

His mind twisted with suspicion. Every line she had whispered could’ve been another performance, another carefully laid trap. Just like the night she drugged him... the night she played him like a pawn in her little bet.

He stopped in the middle of the road, the anger boiling over, his breath ragged in the cool night air.

It sickened him. It made bile rise in his throat.

But then the other voice — colder, harsher — hissed inside him.

“Or maybe it’s all a lie. Maybe it’s just another performance. The same way she spiked your drink, dragged you to that hotel room, made you believe…” He shut his eyes, the memory clawing back — the humiliation, the violation, the smirk on her lips when he woke.

His fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

“What if she’s just twisting my head again? What if this is just another trap?”

The questions tormented him, circling like vultures. She was the daughter of Shivaay Singh Oberoi — a man with enough money and power to make the world kneel. Guards, walls, every kind of protection money could buy. How could his daughter ever fall prey to something like that? How could no one notice? How could no one stop it?

Unless… she had been alone all along.

The thought sliced through him, raw and merciless. He hated it. Hated that it made his chest ache. Hated that he almost pitied her. Hated that for the first time, he was seeing her not as the invincible queen bee, but as a girl trapped in chains invisible to everyone else.

“Damn you, Avneet,” he whispered, his voice trembling with anger he couldn’t place anymore.

“Was it the truth… or just another one of your games, Avneet?” he muttered to the dark. His hands shook, veins raised on his arms. “Because if it’s true… you’re more broken than I ever thought. If it’s true… you’re broken. Shattered in ways I can’t even imagine. And if it’s not true and if....  it’s a lie...” his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, “...then you’re worse than a monster who doesn't even deserve pity.”

He started walking again, faster this time, like he could outpace the storm in his head. But her face kept flashing in his mind — her smudged mascara, her slurred laughter turning into confession, the way she clutched at his arm even in sleep and begged, don’t leave me alone.

By the time he reached his home, Siddharth felt like he’d been ripped open. His chest was heaving, his veins alive with fire. One half of him wanted to believe her, to see her as a victim swallowed by the cruelty of men. The other half wanted to crush her, to never forget the way she had humiliated him, drugged him, and laughed while he bled.

The part of him that had almost felt pity for her muttering “don’t leave me alone,” and the part that wanted to believe she was nothing but a bitch, a manipulator hiding behind crocodile tears.

Either way, one truth rang in his head, pounding harder than the hangover from the party:

He could never afford to trust Avneet Kaur.

And yet, no matter how much he told himself that, he couldn’t stop hearing her broken whisper echoing through his bones:

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

Siddharth lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling as the fan hummed overhead. The sheets were cold, the room silent, but his mind… his mind was a battlefield. Sleep didn’t even dare come close.

Every time he shut his eyes, her face appeared. Not the smug smirk she wore like armor, not the glittering queen bee mask that ruled over college. No. Tonight he saw the mascara-smeared cheeks, the drunken trembling lips, the way her voice cracked when she muttered, don’t leave me alone.

And with it came the other memory, the one that burned like acid — the night she drugged him. The morning he woke to find her lying on his chest, naked, triumphant, laughing at his broken confusion.

He rolled over violently, fists gripping the pillow. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“She’s cruel,” he muttered to himself, his voice rough in the empty room. “She’s vile. She wanted to humiliate me. To destroy me. She used me. She… she raped me.” The last words scraped his throat, almost choking him.

The word rape hung in the darkness like a curse. His eyes stung with rage he couldn’t bury.

But then... that damned confession.  The way her voice had cracked, childlike, helpless. It didn’t fit the Avneet he knew. It didn’t fit the venomous girl who laughed at his pain. And that made it worse.

Maybe she built this cruel persona. Maybe the arrogance, the sharp tongue, the cruelty... maybe it was all bricks in the wall she raised to keep the world out. Maybe it was how she survived what happened to her.

But even if that were true… Siddharth’s fists trembled against the mattress. Does that make it right?

No. No it didn’t.

Because the truth was simple, brutal, and inescapable: she hurt others to protect herself. She played with lives like they were chess pieces, she humiliated people to prove she was untouchable, she destroyed people because she feared being weak.

And him? She violated him in the worst way. No wall, no excuse, no broken childhood could erase that.

The hours dragged, each minute heavier than the last. He turned over, then again, then sat up, his hair falling into his eyes, chest heaving as if he’d been running. The clock ticked past 3 a.m. He hadn’t slept a second.

Finally, with a bitter laugh, he dragged his hands down his face.

“I pity you,” he whispered into the darkness, as if speaking to her shadow. His voice trembled between rage and sorrow. “God help me, I pity you. For whatever hell turned you into this monster.”

His eyes narrowed, his voice sharpened like a blade.

“But I hate you more. I hate you for what you did to me.”

He leaned back against the headboard, eyes bloodshot, chest heavy.

Avneet Kaur was both — a victim and a predator. A girl who had been broken… and who now broke others without remorse.

And Siddharth knew, as the night bled into morning without a trace of sleep: he would never forgive her.

---

The first thing Avneet felt was the cold pavement beneath her cheek.

Her head throbbed... a pounding, splitting ache that made her skull feel like it was about to crack open. She groaned, shifting slightly, and the world tilted.

Then came the voices. Low murmurs. Footsteps. Laughter.

She forced her swollen eyes open.... students walking past, some slowing down just enough to glance at her, their whispers sharp like knives.

“Is that Avneet?” “Oh my God, she’s a mess.” “Look at her clothes…”

She sat up too quickly, clutching her temple as nausea swept through her. Her hair was tangled, mascara smudged into black stains beneath her eyes. Her designer dress was wrinkled, stained from the dust of the pavement. The queen bee of college looked like nothing more than a fallen drunk.

What the hell happened last night?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to piece it together. Glasses clinking, music pounding, men’s eyes crawling over her… her own laughter too loud, too desperate. And then...

A deep voice cutting through the haze. A pair of cold, familiar hazel eyes.

Sid.

Her heart stuttered. Images flashed, broken and blurry like shards of glass. Him dragging her outside. Him scolding her. Her own voice trembling with words she couldn’t remember but felt deep in her bones. The heavy rain... His silhouette walking away… and then darkness.

She shook her head violently, as if she could knock the pieces into place, but all it did was worsen the pain. She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to.

With effort, she pushed herself to her feet. The stares were still on her. Her pride screamed louder than her hangover. Straightening her back, she brushed the dirt from her dress, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and adjusted her chin higher. If they wanted to see her weak, she would give them her strongest performance.

Inside, she felt sick. Outside, she was still Avneet Kaur.

By the time she reached her room, she locked the door and leaned against it, her breath coming out shaky. For a moment, just a moment, she wanted to collapse again. To hide. To cry. But she forced herself to the mirror instead.

Cold water splashed against her face, washing away the stains of last night. Makeup reapplied. Hair fixed. Outfit changed into something sharp, bold, intimidating. The same old armor.

By the time she walked into college, she looked untouchable again.

Or so she thought.

Because the moment her eyes landed on him across the corridor...  Siddharth in his usual crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking maddeningly composed... her breath caught. He looked too good. And he was looking at her...

He wasn’t looking at her with disgust, not like Faisu did when he walked away, not like Jannat did when she spat betrayal at her. No. Sid looked at her differently. Not admiration, not attraction. Something quieter. Something heavier.

And it unnerved her more than anything else.

Because she didn’t know what it meant.

And worse — a blurry fragment of last night returned like a ghost. Don’t leave me alone. Her own voice, raw and broken.

Her stomach knotted. She bit her lip hard enough to sting, then plastered on her smirk, flipping her hair back like she always did. She strutted forward as though nothing in the world could touch her.

But for the first time, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

Avneet’s heels clicked against the tiled floor, each step calculated, each movement sharpened into perfection. People turned to look, as they always did, but their stares didn’t bother her this time... they steadied her. Reminded her who she was supposed to be.

She lifted her chin higher, smirk tugging at her lips as she approached him.

Siddharth stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets. He wasn’t surrounded by people, wasn’t trying to be seen... yet everyone noticed him. His presence had a gravity she hated.

“Enjoying the view?” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she caught his eye.

For a split second, she expected him to look away, to scowl, to throw one of his cold retorts at her. But he didn’t.

He just looked at her.

Calm. Steady. Quiet.

Avneet’s smirk faltered for a heartbeat before she forced it back. “What?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes, trying to read him. “No cold replies... No judging or being a moral police and lecturing me?”

Still nothing. No smirk. No taunt. No accusation. Just that maddening silence, his gaze holding hers like he could see past every layer she had carefully painted over herself this morning.

She flipped her hair, scoffing. “Whatever. Keep staring if you want. I don’t care.” Her voice rose, sharper than intended. Too defensive.

But he didn’t react. Didn’t rise to the bait.

Why was he looking at her like that... like he knew something she didn’t even know about herself?

She bit the inside of her cheek until the taste of iron filled her mouth.

If Siddharth thought he could make her doubt herself, he was wrong. She was Avneet Kaur. She was untouchable.

“What’s your problem?” She asked shoving him to the wall.

Siddharth’s gaze dropped briefly to her before pushing her away, like she wasn’t worth more than a second. “Excuse me.”

“No, don’t ‘excuse me’ me!” she snapped, stepping closer again. The scent of his cologne hit her, annoyingly clean, in sharp contrast to the stale alcohol that still lingered faintly on her. “You’ve been looking at me... Staring. Judging. Like... like you know something I don’t.”

For a moment, he just studied her. Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just studied.

Then, softly, he asked, “And if I do?”

Her throat tightened. The air seemed to thicken.

Something in her chest twisted violently. She shoved it down, narrowing her eyes instead. “Oh, so what? Don’t flatter yourself, Siddharth. Whatever you think you saw last night... whatever you think you know... it means nothing.”

He tilted his head, gaze unwavering. “Then why does it bother you so much?”

Her breath hitched. She hated that he noticed. She hated that he was right.

“I’m not bothered,” she hissed, though her voice wavered. “I just… I don’t like people acting like they’re above me. Like they’re better than me. You think just because you sit there, silent, you’ve won some kind of moral high ground?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Trust me, Siddharth. Silence doesn’t make you noble. It just makes you a coward.”

The words echoed louder than she meant. For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes — hurt? Anger? She couldn’t tell.

But then he simply said, “If that’s what you need to believe.”

And he walked past her. Just like that. No fight. No humiliation. No scene.

She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to claw at him until he bled like she did inside. But instead, she stood there trembling, her armor cracking under the weight of his quietness.

Avneet stood frozen, every nerve in her body screaming. His words kept echoing: “If that’s what you need to believe.”

No. No, she wouldn’t let him walk away like that. Not when people were still watching. Not when her throne... her power... depended on her untouchable image.

Her heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor as she spun around, voice rising loud enough to catch the attention of everyone still lingering in the corridor.

“Tell me, Siddharth,” she sneered, marching toward him so her voice cut through the air, “is that your big strategy? Just stand there, acting like you’re so calm and mysterious, while the rest of us actually live life? You think you’re better than me? Than us?”

He turned, his gaze steady, quiet. Which only made her angrier.

Siddharth didn’t respond. He didn’t defend himself. He just looked at her — and that silence hit her harder than any insult could. It made her feel exposed, raw, like he could see through the layers of poison she had carefully painted over herself.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn’t let him win. Not here. Not in front of them.

So she laughed and tossed her hair back. “Anyways. Siddharth why don't you tell the crowd how we were together again last night... We were drunk... Spent time... You carried me in those arms till hostel... And now you want to act like a saint who hates a bitch like me???!!!”

Siddharth just ignored her. And walked away rolling his eyes. He didn't care about those people whatever they thought about him he couldn't care any less.

The crowd half-believed her. They always did. She was Avneet Kaur... the queen bee, untouchable, unbreakable.

But inside, as Siddharth turned and walked away again, she felt something collapse. Because even though she’d won the crowd, she knew she hadn’t won him.

The applause of whispers and nervous laughter still rang in Avneet’s ears long after the hallway emptied. She stood there alone, her chest heaving, her nails biting into her palms.

For a second, she could still feel Siddharth’s eyes on her... not angry, not mocking, just seeing. And that terrified her more than anything.

Her heels echoed as she walked quickly back to her hostel room, slamming the door shut behind her. The moment the lock clicked, the mask shattered.

Avneet staggered to the mirror, clutching the edge of the dressing table. Her reflection stared back... flawless makeup, perfect hair, chin held high. Untouchable.

But the eyes. The eyes betrayed her.

“Shut up,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head violently. “Don’t… don’t you dare.” But the sting in her chest grew heavier, spreading like poison.

She ripped off her earrings, threw them on the floor. Her robe slipped off her shoulders as she pressed her fists against the mirror.

“Why him?” she muttered bitterly. “Why does he look at me like that? Like he pity me!!!”

Her breath quickened. The room spun. She sank onto the floor, clutching her knees to her chest. Memories she had buried deep clawed their way out... the men, the lies, the nights she thought she had control until she realized she was nothing but prey.

“Faisal left. Jannat left. Everyone leaves…” she whispered hoarsely, rocking slightly. “So why does he matter? Why should it matter?”

Her phone buzzed on the bed. Messages, people tagging her in stories, gossip about the showdown in the corridor. Queen Avneet still untouchable.

She laughed through her tears, a broken sound. “Yeah… untouchable,” she whispered. “Even if it kills me.”

Crawling to the bed, she pulled herself up and lay flat, staring at the ceiling. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She hated Siddharth more than anyone in the world for making her feel. For making her cracks show, even when no one else could see them.

And yet, as she closed her eyes, the only image that stayed was him, standing calm, unshaken, while she burned herself alive for the crowd.

“Why you…” she whispered bitterly, before sleep dragged her under.