Romil's POV

Fists clenched, I step out into the sunlit parking lot. Shlok is waiting in his car, idling, like always, his music on low. He presses a horn and I slide swiftly into the passenger seat.

Throughout the ride, I am staring ahead at the blur of trees and buildings whizzing by, the familiar landscape doing little to distract me from the dull ache pressing in at the sides of my skull.

'See you at your place, buddy,' he says, as if that's supposed to make me feel better.

I nod briefly.

Home feels like a different planet the moment I step in—where everyone, everything, is always a little too neat, too ready for show. The marble floors gleam, servants flit like shadows in the periphery, always one step ahead, anticipating what's needed before it's asked for. It should feel comforting, but it never does.

One of the servants, a woman with downcast eyes, quietly approaches. 'Sir, your mother is calling for you.'

I drag in a breath, forcing my feet toward her study. The air feels heavier in here, like it always does. The room is immaculate, bookshelves lined perfectly, not a single thing out of place. The kind of place where every misstep feels amplified.

Mom is sitting behind her grand mahogany desk, sipping from a wine flute. She looks exactly like she always does—poised and immaculately dressed in formal workwear, like she's been plucked straight out of a magazine spread, not a hair out of place, her fitted dress as sharp as her gaze.

'I heard your result came in today.' Her tone is light, casual, like she's asking about the weather. I nod, but I can't bring myself to meet her eyes, so I settle on the silver wristwatch she's wearing instead, watching the diamonds around it mocking and winking at me.

'How was it?'

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. 'I got... 588 out of 600.'

'Oh, did you?' There's that familiar rise in her brow, the slight scoff that makes my stomach twist in knots.

I nod, hoping to get this conversation over with.

'Where did you lose the twelve marks?'

'Computer Science,' I mumble. 'Five less than a hundred...'

'Computer?' Her voice pitches with surprise, eyebrows arching even higher. 'What do you even do in front of that thing all day? Surely not playing games and watching girls getting undressed?'

I feel the blood rush to my face, but I say nothing. I can't.

'And surely,' she continues, setting her glass down with a soft clink, 'you came first, right?'

I force myself to look up at her glasslike face, and there it is—the mocking smile, already knowing the answer before I can say it. 'I didn't. I came second.'

'Oh, did you?' Her voice is sickly sweet, as if she's savouring every word. 'Who came first?'

I clench my fists tighter, jaw aching from how hard I'm pressing my teeth together. I know she already knows, but still, she waits.

'Maithili Sharda,' I mutter, the name burning on my tongue.

Her smile widens, and she pours herself another glass of wine, the liquid sloshing delicately into the glass. 'How much did she get?'

'591,' I say, and even just saying it feels like it takes the last bit of energy I have.

She lets out a laugh, a high-pitched, sharp sound that echoes in the room. 'You lost to a girl.' she says, sipping, eyes gleaming behind the rim of her glass.

I can't even move. I just stand there, staring at the bookshelf in front of me, the one I've spent years avoiding. It's strange how a place can hold so many memories and yet feel nothing like home. I remember being a kid, terrified of this room, terrified of her. And here I am again, fists clenched at my sides like I'm eight all over again.

'At least you look like you are repentant, aren't you?' she asks, setting her glass down with a louder thud this time.

My head dips slightly, avoiding her gaze.

'I need a reply,' she enunciates as the words stumble out, reeking of wine.

'Yes.'

'Manners, boy!'

'Yes, mom!' I raise my voice and look at her.

She takes a moment before sinking back into her chair, eyes rolling to the ceiling. 'I wannnnt a purrrfect sscore in the pre-boardss. No exceptionssss.'

Her slurred words linger in the air, heavy and suffocating, just like this room.

*****

A splash of body into water, and suddenly, everything goes silent. The room. The world. The noise. The gleam of the diamonds. The split between her lips, turning fiendish, laughing and spluttering, 'You lost to a girl.' The laugh turns malice in my head, and... I choke. My lungs struggling and bursting for air. Legs pedalling. And I breathe. My heart thrumming in my ear. A kind of disquiet soaring from my guts, settles in my lungs, causing a pang or an ache, I can hardly be sure of.

I rest my hands on the marble tiles as I simply exist, bobbing with the rhythm of the water, in the indoor pool area. After steadying myself, I take a controlled plunge, the ache subsiding and a dull, almost-there strain taking its place. I backpedal and just float, staring at the tall ceilings, when Vatsal's voice snaps me out of it.

'Oi Romil!' Vatsal enters the area. Striding in with his usual smirk, he crouches before the pool. 'Still sulking about second place?'

I swim towards the railing, walking out, catching the towel Vatsal tosses my way, and wiping my bare torso with it. 'I'm not sulking,' I mutter though I can tell I'm not convincing anyone.

'Ah wear something, you piece of hot shit!' Vatsal sits on the lounge chair; his ass indented permanently on the padding. 'I wish I had an athletic body like yours, dude. Those abs are women magnet. Do you think if I lose like ten kgs or something, I have a chance at Maithili?'

There is the acidic name again. I glance around, half-frowning, half wanting to find something to chuck at him. Only dumbbells nearby though. Tempting, but no.

'What, you've got a problem with that?" Vatsal taunts, his eyebrows shooting up.

'Shut it, man.' Before I can answer, Shlok walks in, already pulling off his shirt. He heads straight for the treadmill, cranking it up to full speed like he's running from something.

'I am telling you, friend, she is my item. And you guys' bhabhi,' Vatsal says the last word slowly to emphasise. 'I've called dibs on her.'

'Tell that to Arjun,' Shlok says, barely glancing at us. 'He's suddenly got hots for that know-it-all twat.'

Vatsal's grin vanishes. He jumps up and marches over to Shlok, dragging him off the treadmill, grabbing his collar. 'Say that again and I'll knock you out!'

I pull them apart before any punches fly.

'You'll knock me out? Huh? Huh?' Shlok jabs Vatsal's chest with each huh, but I restrain the brute. 'Why is everyone so bloody obsessed with that girl, yaar?'

I push them at arms' length. 'Vats, that was out of line,' I say, giving him a daring look.

Vatsal huffs, his nostrils flaring, but he backs off, fists still clenched.

Shlok yanks off his vest and tosses it onto the marble floor, his face reddening by the second. 'We've got to do something,' he is saying, his voice thunderous, 'we have to do something about that girl.'

'What are you talking about?' Vatsal and I speak at the same time.

'We are falling apart.' Shlok turns, and paces in circles, his hands at the back of his head. 'First Arjun and now, Vatsal. And Romil—well, you're not number one anymore, thanks to her. We need to take her down a notch. I am telling you that this girl is bad news.'

Romil recalls her image from this morning stashed in his memory. Her pretty face, too stunned to speak at the result, lost in her pretty world. Daddy's girl got a little prize to brag at the dining table. I breathe and another image of her from the fest comes rushing out of nowhere. Her mane falling open, and an awestruck Arjun going up to her rescue like a gentleman he is. A knot forms in my throat. Shlok's right; Maithili is pulling us apart.

'What are you thinking?' Vatsal asks Shlok, his fists clenched and his body on edge, eager to attack at the minor insinuation.

'I am thinking that we need to be done with this situation of a girl,' Shlok says and we wait for him to explain. 'Arjun is out of this plan. He's getting all gooey-eyed for her. And Vats, you want her, right? Well, she's not going to fall into your lap just like that. She's got her whole princess act going, and we need to break her down, strip her of that throne.'

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. 'Break her down how?'

Shlok's grin widens, a plan clearly forming in his mind. 'You are the answer. Girls are into you, and Maithili's no different. Romil, you make her fall for you. Once she's hooked, she'll slip—lose focus, lose her position. Then, when she's vulnerable... Vats can swoop in, give her a shoulder to cry on.'

'I am going nowhere near her,' I declare when another image of her crying at the corner of the auditorium flashes before me, and my jaw clenches.

Shlok steps closer. 'Bro, we've lost Arjun. We'll lose Vats too. And I know how important it is for you to be first. I know you, man. You're as good as dead in this house if you don't top the boards.' Shlok is saying, snaking an arm around my shoulder that I immediately get out of.

'This is ridiculous. Maithili and I are never going to be together, even if it's fake.'

'Don't act like you haven't had fun with anyone before—' Shlok is saying.

'You are not going to touch her!' Vatsal points his index finger out at me in a threat, cutting Shlok in.

'I AM NOT! WILL YOU SHUT UP, VATS?!' I snap, frustration boiling over. I turn back to Shlok. 'How do you want me to do this?'

'Just do as I say.'