Romil

The edges have been fraying for so long. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever stop waiting for things to fall apart.

I had a grandmother—my closest person. She used to knit sweaters, maybe to keep her arthritis-ridden fingers moving, maybe for something else. She'd sit in an old rocking chair under the open verandah, and I'd sit at her feet, holding the yarn in my little hands, mesmerized by the fight of the needles. Something I used to call the process of knitting.

But here's the common thing about fight of the needles and my life. Everything I do, every stitch I make, seems to weave something beautiful. But just when I'm about to finish, about to let my guard down and call it a day, my nails catch on the yarn and everything comes undone. Each weave unravels, pulling my life apart in the worst possible ways.

And there seems to be no end to it.

I open my eyes and reach for my phone, then stop halfway, my hand hovering in the air. I haven't talked to Maithili since the day in the library, since I ran out without explaining why. I told myself it was better not to explain. Better not to worry her. I'd convince myself I'd catch Vatsal, and that would be the end of it. Only I didn't.

And now I don't even know if Shlok managed to reach him.

Last night was a train wreck. Vatsal hacked into my school chats, sent the video he recorded in the library, and used my account to do it. The phone needs to stay off—to stop him from doing anything worse.

But Maithili. What if she goes to school? What if she walks straight into all of this?

I turn the phone on and type the only thing I can think to say to her.

Me: Whatever happens, don't go to school.

The message is seen. My fingers hover over the screen, ready to type something else, something more, but before I can, the red malware warning flashes across the screen again. I turn the phone off, jaw clenched. This has to be enough.

Shlok is at my house, pacing in my room, breaking the bad news. The video was reported on the class chat, and a complaint has been filed with the cybercrime cell. But it doesn't matter. Too many people have already downloaded it. There's no rewind button for this.

Yesterday, Shlok and I had been following Vatsal, tailing him as he sped out of his driveway. I quickly texted him: Delete the video.

The moment he read it, he accelerated, weaving through traffic. Eight agonizing minutes passed before he finally replied.

Vatsal: It's posted
Vatsal: from ur account Romil

Panic bloomed, cold and sharp. I checked my socials—nothing there. Then I opened the school group chat.

And there it was.

The latest message—sent from my account—was the video. Maithili and me, in the library.

The air felt like it was sucked out of the car. I didn't think. Just deleted it, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. But it didn't matter. The message had spread, forwarded faster than I could keep up.

Messages started pouring in, a flood of texts I couldn't bear to read. Another malware warning flashed. I switched it off before Vatsal could do anything else, but it was already too late.

Vatsal sped, swerved, and made a sharp U-turn, heading back toward the main city. A lorry rushed past, and we skidded to a halt. Before we could track his car in the sea of others, Shlok realized his phone had been hacked too. He had to turn it off immediately.

'She's at school,' Shlok says, yanking me out of last night like a slap.

I look up at him.

Fuck.

He's on his second phone, Sakshi's voice buzzing faintly on the other end.

'Tell her Romil and I are handling it,' he says, pacing, his words clipped.

I push off the couch, my body already moving before my brain catches up. I can't stay here, sitting on my hands while she's out there bearing the brunt of it. All alone.

*****

It's late by the time I reach school. The assembly is over. I've got a new phone in my pocket, a sim card I picked up on the way. I try calling Maithili, but she doesn't answer.

By the time I reach class, every pair of eyes turns to me like I'm some kind of exhibit. I scan the room, ignoring their stares, and find Sakshi.

'Where is she?' I ask, breathless.

'Principal's office,' she says, her voice low.

I don't waste a second. Mr. Gautam steps into the room just as I'm rushing out. I mumble an excuse, not waiting for a response, and make for the principal's office on the other side of the building.

When I reach the door, I knock once before pushing it open. My eyes flick to Dilip Sir, then immediately find her.

Maithili stands small in front of his desk, her shoulders curled inward. Her face is flushed and blotchy, her nose red and running. She swipes at it with the back of her hand, again and again. When her gaze meets mine, it's only for a second before she looks down, blinking furiously. Something tightens in my chest, sharp and unbearable.

'Is it urgent, Romil?' Dilip Sir asks, his tone clipped.

'Er...' My mouth feels dry. I haven't thought this through. My only thought is to get her out of here, away from those accusing stares. 'Sir, I want to talk to you. About this.'

'This?' He raises an eyebrow.

I take it as permission and step inside, shutting the door behind me. Standing beside her, I force myself to meet Dilip Sir's expectant gaze.

'My phone was hacked yesterday,' I begin, the words tumbling out faster than I can think. 'It was Vatsal Birla. He hacked my account to post the video.'

His expression barely shifts. 'So, it was your account the video was posted from?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Why would he do that?'

I glance at Maithili. She's listening now, her red, watery eyes locked on me, her brow furrowed like she's just putting the pieces together.

'A few days ago,' I say, my voice steadying, 'Vatsal harassed Maithili in the classroom.'

I look at her again, and she nods, almost imperceptibly, her gaze dropping back to the floor.

'Vatsal Birla, Chhaya madam's son?' Dilip Sir repeats.

'Yes, sir,' I say, grinding my teeth.

'You're saying Vatsal Birla is responsible for the video leak?'

'Yes, sir. He is.'

For a moment, the room is silent except for the faint hum of the laptop's fan lying unattended on the desk.

'Alright,' he says finally. 'Is that it?'

I blink. Is that it?

'But sir—'

'I'm not discussing who caused the video to go online,' he says, cutting me off.

'But Vatsal, he harassed—'

'You may leave.'