UNIVERSITY ARC

The moment I stepped into the classroom, I saw her—Kusuma—seated in the corner. Her arms were crossed tightly, her brows drawn like thunderclouds. The girl who once smiled when I entered a room now looked like she wanted me gone.

I forced myself to walk toward her, heartbeat like a drum in my ears.

She noticed me but didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

The room fell into a strange silence, as if everyone was waiting for something. And then, without a single word, she stood up and slapped me across the face.

A gasp rolled through the class. My face stung, but the shock was worse.

"Stop it!" she yelled, her voice sharp enough to slice through the air. "Don’t try to say a word, Manoj! Do you even remember what you promised me? You said you'd get the job. You said your project was perfect. That this interview would be a turning point. What happened?!"

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

Why couldn't I speak?

She stepped closer, her fury mounting. "You failed! After all that talk, you failed!"

Every word echoed through me, like punches to the gut. I wanted to scream, I didn’t mess up! But I stood frozen, trapped between shame and heartbreak.

A voice from the crowd jumped in, mocking.

"Guess the golden boy’s luck ran out!"

Another one snorted.

"His girlfriend sure hyped him up. What now, huh? Must be awkward."

Their laughter poured gasoline on the fire. Kusuma’s eyes blazed as she turned back to me.

"And you still have the guts to show your face? My trust—it's dead, Manoj. Dead. I gave you everything. I believed in you more than anyone. But this? This is pathetic."

Why won’t she let me speak? Just one sentence. One truth.

"Kusuma, wait. I—"

"No!" she cut in. "Don’t even try. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’ve humiliated me in front of everyone. They’re laughing at me because of you!"

I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to scream that something had gone wrong—terribly wrong. But saying it now would sound like a lie.

And even worse... I wasn’t sure she’d believe me.

The voices around us got louder.

.

.

.

.

"Manoj, you're not cut out for this world."

"Stay in your place, poor kid. You reached too far."

"You’ll always be a nobody."

Each voice chipped away at me.

And Kusuma—she delivered the final blow. Her voice was calm now. Too calm.

"You know what hurts the most? I don’t even think you tried. Maybe you just got lazy. Or maybe... maybe this is who you really are. A failure."

She looked me dead in the eyes, and for a second I saw something else—pain, maybe. Or was it regret?

"But me? I’m done wasting my life on someone going nowhere. It’s over, Manoj. Don’t ever talk to me again."

And then she turned away.

Just like that.

I stood there, in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by laughter, judgment, and a silence inside me so loud it drowned everything out.

If only she knew the truth. If only I could’ve told her what really happened in that interview room...

But now?

It was too late.

I stared at her back, memorizing the way she walked away—like I was just some chapter she couldn’t wait to end.

My hand curled into a fist, not out of anger—but to stop the trembling. My mouth was dry. My throat is tighter than a knot.

And then I walked out.

I didn’t run. I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell.

I just... left.

…….

I walked through the streets like a shadow, retracing the same steps that once led me to dreams. Now they just circled back to pain.

Everything is slipping away. My love. My career. My voice. Myself.

I don’t remember when I reached my room. The world blurred into a quiet numbness. The corridor to my room was empty, just like I needed it to be. I dragged my feet, each step heavier than the last, like the floor was pulling me down with it.

I unlocked the door to my room, stepped inside, and shut it behind me like I was locking myself out of the world.

The moment I shut the door behind me, the silence hit. No noise. No laughter. No insults. No Kusuma.

Just... silence.

I didn’t switch on the light. I didn’t want to see the posters on the wall—the ones she helped me put up. I didn’t want to see my desk, still cluttered with printouts of the project I never got to present.

I dropped my bag on the floor and then I just sat on the bed.

For minutes. Maybe hours.

My phone buzzed.

Group chats flooded with jokes. Memes. Screenshots.

"Breakup scene of the year!"

"Even the great Manoj got humbled."

"What a downfall, bro."

I stared at the screen until the light blurred. Then I threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thud and fell face down.

Still glowing.

I leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan spinning slowly—mocking me with its lazy circles.

What did I do wrong?

The interview kept replaying in my head. The confused faces of the panel. The way they flipped through my file like it was some stranger’s. That awkward pause before they told me they couldn’t find anything original in my submission.

I’d stood there, stunned. I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream. But I just stood.

Like now.

Motionless.

I closed my eyes, and her voice came rushing back again.

"You’ve humiliated me."

"This is who you really are."

"Don’t ever talk to me again."

I clenched my jaw.

Why didn’t I fight back?

Why didn’t I explain?

Because even if I had... no one would’ve listened.

Not them. Not her.

A breeze slipped through the cracked window, brushing against my skin like a ghost. I felt cold. Not the kind sweaters fix. The kind that seeps in when you’ve lost something you can’t name.

My throat tightened.

My arm over my eyes, wishing the fan would stop spinning. Wishing time would stop spinning.

I didn't lie. I didn’t cheat.

But what’s the use of truth when the world’s already written your ending?

I turned to the side, eyes half-closed, when my eyes fixed on something on the table.

A pen. Kusuma’s pen.

It still sat on the corner of my table, exactly where she had left it the last time we spoke. I didn’t even remember keeping it. But there it was.

That clumsy, oversized one with a tiny blue tassel on the cap. She used to twirl it around while thinking, sometimes accidentally flicking ink on herself.

She’d left it here once after a late-night study session. I’d meant to return it a hundred times.

Now it just stared back at me like a ghost frozen in plastic.

And then it happened—like a crack in the darkness.

A memory.

It was the night before this project presentation.

I was panicking. Everything looked wrong. My slides, my diagrams, my voice.

But she just sat there beside me, calm, confident.

"You’re overthinking it again," she’d said, nudging me with that same pen. "You know this stuff, Manoj. You’ve built it from scratch. Just go in there and own it."

I laughed nervously. "Easy for you to say. You’re always good at this."

She’d tilted her head, that little smile playing on her lips. "No. I’m just not afraid of the stage. You’re the one with real ideas."

Her voice echoed now—strangely louder than everything else.

Back then, her belief in me felt like fuel. Today, it felt like a lie.

Or maybe... something I lost.

I stared at the pen for a long time.

A tiny, ordinary thing.

And yet, it held more truth than anything I had left. More weight than all the promises she made.

I reached for it with trembling fingers.

And that’s when I broke.

My knees gave in. I fell to the ground, clutching the pen to my chest like it could hold me together. The tears came fast, unstoppable. Everything I’d buried under silence—the loss, the anger, the humiliation, the loneliness—flooded out of me like a storm.

Some things aren’t mine to hold anymore.

– – – –

The air around me felt heavier than usual. My palms were cold, but my skin was sweating. This wasn’t just any interview. This was the one that could pull me out of the dark, the one that could rewrite everything.

A job with a national-level tech firm. Only three candidates would be selected, and I’d worked for months with that number echoing in my mind like a warning. Top three. Nothing else counted.

I reached the venue early, hoping to calm my nerves. But the long line of other hopefuls outside the seminar hall only made things worse. Everyone looked confident, sharp, and well-prepared. I forced myself to stay focused.

Finally, it was my turn. I walked into the room slowly, trying to breathe, trying not to look too shaken. Three interviewers sat behind a table. Their expressions were unreadable—professional, cold.

“Your name?” one of them asked, already flipping through the stack of reports.

“Manoj,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He found a file and opened it, projecting its contents onto the large screen behind him. I turned to look, but as soon as I saw what was on the screen—my heart sank.

This wasn’t mine.

This wasn’t the report I spent weeks crafting. It had my name, my batch number, but the contents—some were random, others were outdated elements I had purposely avoided.

I swallowed hard and tried to speak.

“Sir… this isn’t my project report. Something’s wrong.”

The room shifted. The temperature seemed to drop.

“What do you mean?” the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

“This isn’t what I submitted,” I said, gently but firmly. “I didn’t include these components. I worked on an adaptive optimization system using machine learning with real-time feedback. This... this isn’t even close.”

Another officer leaned forward, irritated. “This is the report we received under your name. Please don’t waste our time.”

I tried not to panic. I wanted to believe this was a mistake, just a file mix-up. It had to be.

“If you’ll allow me,” I said, “I can show you the original from my device or even explain it here, right now. I just need a chance.”

But they weren’t listening. Their faces were already closing off.

“We don’t accept live explanations. This is not an open presentation round,” the lead interviewer said. “The evaluation is strictly based on what was submitted.”

“I understand,” I said quickly. “But I truly didn’t submit this. Please—”

“That’s enough,” he cut in. “You’re wasting our time. Present this report or leave.”

I stood frozen, torn between shouting and staying quiet. If I walked away, everything ended here. But if I stayed silent, it ended too.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But this is not mine. I swear.”

That was it.

The security guard was signaled. Before I could say anything else, he stepped forward and gestured for me to leave.

I didn’t resist. What was the point?

I walked out.

One step. Two steps. Out of the room. Out of the chance I had fought so hard for.

I stood outside the seminar hall like a ghost—forgotten, unseen, unheard. People passed by me, their voices muffled and distant. I couldn’t move. My legs were numb. My mind was louder than anything around me, screaming questions I had no answers to.

Why did this happen?

Why now?

Why me?

– – – –

I’d poured everything into that project. Sleepless nights, endless tweaking, endless hope… all gone. All stolen. Like it never mattered. Like I never mattered.

But what hurt the most wasn’t just that I lost the opportunity. It was that nobody believed me. Not even for a second.

And maybe… that’s what I’d gotten used to.

No one believed me when Kusuma left either.

She never gave me a chance to explain. No questions. No doubts. Just a goodbye, like I had already been proven guilty. Her words still echo in my chest, louder than the interview panel’s indifference.

“You’re not the person I thought you were.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I didn’t?

Yes, maybe I still don’t.

Back then, I thought it was just heartbreak. That it would pass. That maybe time would patch the holes she left behind.

But time doesn’t heal anything. It just adds more weight.

And somewhere, in the middle of that darkness, I finally admitted it to myself:

I didn’t know how to go on.

UNIVERSITY ARC

I am Manoj, twenty years old.

If life had been fair, I wouldn’t have made it here. But I did. Through talent, determination, and sheer stubbornness, I earned my place at Oakridge Noble University—a place where the privileged thrive, and people like me barely survive.

I still remember the first time I heard the name Oakridge. Not from a counselor, not from a teacher—just a flashy advertisement on TV, promising a future brighter than gold.

They weren’t lying.

With specialized campuses in technology, medicine, law, arts, and performing arts, Oakridge is more than a university. It’s a brand. Every month, top-tier organizations handpick students, turning them into the next generation of leaders.

But for people like me, getting here wasn’t easy. A scholarship was my only way in.

Oakridge’s scholarship program isn’t charity. It’s a contract. A deal. The university funds your education, but once you secure a job, you pay it back—no interest, but no excuses. And if you fail to land a job? That’s on you.

That’s why the entrance exam is brutal. Only the best make it through.

I did.

For a moment, I thought I had finally won. But what I didn’t expect was the war inside the university.

Here, money speaks louder than talent. Wealthy students walk like they own the place, while scholarship students like me? We’re just… there. We exist, but we don’t belong.

Some of them see us as competition. Others see us as nothing.

A few, however, don’t see us differently at all.

And maybe, just maybe—that’s the only reason I’ve managed to survive.

But I knew one thing for sure—I couldn’t stay invisible forever. If I wanted to stand out, to make a place for myself, I had to do something big.

That’s why I poured everything I had into my project—a technological innovation aimed at conserving resources. It represents months of hard work and is deeply important to me.

Finally, the day arrives to present my project to the visiting recruiters. Those who impress them will have the chance to join one of the largest multinational companies.

This morning, I woke up early, excitement and nerves buzzed through me.

…..

My friends gathered around, offering their well-wishes.

“Best of luck, Manoj! If you get this job, I can tell everyone I helped you financially and impress more girls. Isn’t that awesome? Hehe.”

Did he mean that, or was he joking? I wanted to scold him for his ridiculous thoughts, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So I smiled and replied softly.

“Yeah, Ramu. I think you’ve already mastered that trick, haven’t you?”

Ramu was a good guy, but his habit of trying to charm girls always amused me. Still, I never understood how they kept falling for it.

Suresh chimed in next.

“Manoj, if you succeed, I’ll treat you to some amazing food you’ve never had before. I swear on my food.”

That’s Suresh for you. He had a kind heart—but swearing on food? I doubted he’d last more than five minutes without eating.

“So sweet of you, Suresh. I’m looking forward to that treat.”

Finally, Keshava stepped forward and hugged me tightly.

“Manoj, remember when we all first met? That was one of the best moments of my life. You know, I have so many memories, just because of you guys. You are more than friends to me. I believe you more than me. And remember, whatever happens, we will always be on your side. Now go, show them who you really are.”

His words struck a chord. Oh, Keshava… you’ll miss me, won’t you? I’ll never forget what you did for me. Without your help and support, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

I reassured them with a smile.

"I won’t forget you guys. But now, it’s time for the seminar—I have to go."

Before heading in, I handed my phone to Keshava since electronic devices weren’t allowed.

But when everything changed in an instant, that interview became one of the worst nightmares of my life—something I would never forget.

– – – –

After security escorted me out, I sat on a bench outside, devastated, replaying the mistake over and over in my mind.

Then it hit me. This project meant everything to me. If it fell into the wrong hands, the consequences could be dangerous. If they realized its true potential… no, that wouldn’t be good. It could be risky for them—and even more so for me. No! I just hoped that wouldn’t happen.

As I walked toward the gate, I suddenly heard a voice nearby—one I recognized. I moved closer to see who it was.

And then, I froze.

Rahul—my classmate. What was he doing here? Was he part of this too?

Wait… he was handing money to someone.

I narrowed my eyes. My heart pounded.

It was one of the officers from the seminar—the same place where I had presented my report!

They were talking, but I couldn’t hear much. I held my breath and crept closer, hiding nearby, trying to catch their conversation.

"Sir, as promised, here’s the money."

Rahul said it with a smug smile, handing over a thick envelope. The officer took it eagerly, his fingers gripping the cash as if it were treasure. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. The officer said, his voice filled with admiration.

"Young man, I must say. The report I had replaced with yours, was one of the best I’ve ever seen. His idea is unique—even our senior official was impressed. If he had presented it as it was, he would’ve definitely gotten the job. But he doesn’t even realize you tampered with it."

My breath caught in my throat.

What?

Rahul did this? He was the reason everything went wrong?

Rage boiled inside me. My fists clenched involuntarily. That bastard! I needed to expose him, to tell everyone the truth. Wait—what if I record this?

I reached into my pockets, frantically searching for my phone. My fingers brushed against nothing but fabric.

Damn it! My phone—I had given it to Keshava before the seminar. The worst timing ever!

I looked up, and Rahul’s expression had changed. His smirk was gone. His eyes turned cold and piercing as he stared directly at the officer.

"That’s none of your business. You got your money—now leave."

His voice was firm and threatening. The officer hesitated, his excitement quickly fading. He glanced around nervously before stuffing the envelope into his pocket and walking away without another word.

I stood frozen, my mind racing.

Rahul… was worse than I ever imagined.

For so long, I had tolerated his behavior—only because Kusuma had asked me to. But today, he crossed the line. And I wasn’t going to stay silent anymore.

After the officer left, Rahul turned back. I stood in front of him, my fists clenched, barely holding back my rage.

"Rahul, I heard what you told him. How could you do this? What have I ever done to you?"

He smirked, leaning lazily against the wall. His eyes held nothing but amusement, as if my anger was just entertainment to him.

"Hey, Manoj! What’s with the drama? What are you even talking about?"

"Don’t act clueless. I heard everything you told that officer. Now tell me—why did you set me up?"

His smirk widened. He straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his expensive suit.

"Oh? So, you finally figured it out?"

He let out a mocking chuckle and continued.

"Well, what can you do about it? There’s no proof, and no one will believe you."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "People like you don’t get chances, Manoj. You fight, you struggle, and in the end, you still lose. Meanwhile, I get whatever I want. That job? It’s mine. And you?" He scoffed. "You’ll be nothing. Just like you’ve always been."

His words were gasoline to my burning rage. My body tensed, my vision blurred with fury.

He laughed—a cold, cruel sound. "You were never even competition."

That was it. The last spark before the explosion. With a roar, I lunged at him, ready to tear that smug grin off his face.

– – – –

It was already lunchtime. Keshava and Ramu had just finished their classes and headed to the canteen, searching for Suresh.

They spotted him near the counter, busy ordering food from a long list. Once he was done, they joined him at an empty table.

"Hey, Ramu, where’s Manoj?" Keshava asked, glancing around. "He told us he’d meet us here after his interview, right?"

"Yeah," Ramu nodded, frowning. "But he’s not here. Suresh, have you seen him?"

"No," Suresh replied, shaking his head. "I came here an hour ago, but he never showed up."

Ramu smirked. "Why? Couldn’t hold your hunger for just an hour?"

Suresh chuckled. "You got it wrong. I promised Manoj a treat. I knew he’d get selected, so I ordered all this to celebrate."

They all laughed, but Keshava wasn’t fully paying attention. Something felt off. Time ticked by, and after half an hour, his unease grew.

He leaned forward. "Ramu, the interview must be over by now, right? So where is he? Something doesn’t feel right. Let’s go find him. Suresh, wait here."

Suresh nodded as Keshava and Ramu hurried out.

……….

They searched around the campus, checking the corridors and open spaces. Then, at last, they found me—

But it was already too late.

Their eyes widened, locking onto the scene in front of them.

Rahul was pinned against the wall, his feet barely touching the ground. His hands clawed at my arms, his gasps coming in short, desperate bursts. His neatly styled hair was now a mess, strands falling over his panicked eyes.

And me? I was lost.

Rage had taken over, drowning out all reason. My fingers were locked around his throat, squeezing tighter with each second.

"What happened, Rahul?" My voice came out low, trembling with fury. "Where’s that big mouth now? Speak!"

Rahul tried, but no words came—only a wheezing, choking sound. His eyes bulged as his body writhed, struggling against my grip.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard shouting. But it felt far away, like another world. Right now, there was only him. Only this moment.

He deserved this. After everything, he had to pay. His fingers grew weaker. His struggles slowed.

Then—suddenly—hands grabbed my arms, yanking me backward.

"Manoj, stop!"

Keshava’s voice cut through the haze. He strained, using all his strength to pull me off.

I resisted at first, my body refusing to let go. But then, as if waking from a nightmare, my grip loosened. My breath came out in short, ragged gasps.

Rahul collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, clutching his throat.

But I wasn’t done.

My eyes locked onto his trembling hands—still shaking, still desperate. No. He wasn’t getting away with this so easily.

"These hands…" I muttered, stepping closer. "These are the hands you used to corrupt that officer, right?"

Rahul coughed, struggling to steady himself, but I didn’t care. My rage was blinding. I reached for his arm, ready to snap it—ready to make him pay.

Keshava clung to me, his grip firm, still trying to hold me back.

Rahul saw his chance. Before I could react, he staggered to his feet and slammed a brutal kick into my stomach.

Pain exploded through me as I crashed onto the ground, gasping for air.

"You brat! I’m not letting you off!" Rahul spat, his voice dripping with hatred.

I tried to stand, but my body refused to move. My muscles ached, my vision blurred.

Rahul wiped the blood from his lips, his face twisted in fury. He frantically scanned the surroundings—then his eyes landed on something.

A decorative stone.

His fingers closed around it. Without hesitation, he lifted it above his head, ready to bring it crashing down on me.

Before he could strike, a blur of movement shot past me—Ramu.

Ramu tackled Rahul, yanking him backward just in time. The stone slipped from his grip.

That was my moment. Rage completely took over me. Without realising what I'm doing, I lunged forward, grabbed the stone from the ground, and swung it straight into Rahul’s face.

A sickening crack echoed through the air. Blood sprayed across the floor.

Rahul screamed, his hands flying to his face, but I didn’t stop. I struck again. And again. Each blow landed with a thud, his nose breaking under the force.

By the time I was done, his once-perfect face was unrecognizable.

A mess of blood, bruises, and broken bones.

My friends struggled to pull me off him, their voices distant echoes in my rage-filled mind.

Rahul writhed on the ground, clutching his face, howling in agony.

"You… you filthy rat!" he choked out. "I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll—"

A sudden thud silenced him.

Ramu’s fist crashed into his forehead, cutting him off mid-sentence.

For a second, everything went still.

Ramu’s eyes burned with a terrifying coldness as he loomed over Rahul. His voice was calm, but lethal.

"You talk too much."

For the first time, I saw it—fear in Rahul’s eyes. He wasn’t going to report this. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. Because admitting he got beaten like this? No, Rahul’s pride wouldn’t allow it.

Finally, I exhaled, my breath still shaky. My rage cooled—just a little.

I glanced at Rahul’s face. It was swollen, bleeding, completely out of shape. Like a punctured football.

……..

Keshava and Ramu, both rushed Rahul to a nearby hospital, and left me behind.

The world around me blurred, the distant sounds of students talking and laughing felt unreal. My breath was heavy. My fists ached. Blood—not mine—stained my knuckles.

What had I just done?

I stared down at my hands, covered with blood. My fingers started trembling. The rage that had consumed me minutes ago was starting to fade, replaced by something colder.

Was this what justice looked like? I had beaten Rahul senseless, but had I won? Would anything change?

Who should I blame for the loss?

Rahul? His money? The system that let people like him get away with anything?

I struggled to gather my thoughts, my eyes drifting to the crumpled paper in my hand.

Was this really the outcome of all my hard work?

I had fought, I had given everything… and yet, in the end, money decided my fate.

I wanted to file a complaint. I wanted justice.

But what was the point? Without evidence, they’d laugh in my face. I was just another powerless man in a world ruled by wealth.

I exhaled sharply, crushing the paper in my grip.

Why is money so powerful?

UNIVERSITY ARC

Even after Rahul was rushed to the hospital, my mind wasn’t at peace.

I kept thinking—who was to blame for this? Him? The corrupt system? Myself for being too naive?

But in the end, it didn’t matter. No one would believe me.

That thought clawed at my chest like a slow-burning fire. I had nothing—no proof, no way to fight back.

Then, another thought surfaced, one that gave me a shred of hope.

Kusuma.

She was my anchor, my light in all this darkness. She had always stood by me, always believed in me. If there was anyone I could turn to, it was her.

Clinging to that hope, I headed toward our classroom. My steps were heavy, my body still aching from the fight, but my heart pushed me forward.

I needed to see her. I needed to hear her say that everything would be okay.

But instead—

I heard something else. Something that made my blood run cold. The words she spoke sliced through me like a blade. Her voice floated through the air, clear and unmistakable.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled into fists.

No…

My mind went blank, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had faith in our love. But now, I don't know what to believe.

I stepped outside the door, my fingers hovering over the handle.

Had I been wrong about her all along? Without any words, I just ran towards my hostel room, by crushing all my pride and hopes.

– – – –

The night felt endless.

The dim glow from the street lamps barely seeped through the curtains, casting long, ghostly shadows across the walls.

But inside my room, there was only darkness.

I sat on my bed, unmoving. The air around me was thick, suffocating. But inside my mind—there was nothing but chaos.

A storm of thoughts. Regret. Pain.

Kusuma’s voice echoed inside my head, over and over—“You promised me… you promised me you’d make it.”

I clenched my fists. My promise? It was worthless. I had given her hope, only to destroy it in a single moment. I took my phone that I threw before. The edges were slightly damaged. I opened and stared at my phone screen.

Her.

Kusuma’s smile froze in time. I once looked at this photo with love.

Now? It felt like a dagger to my chest. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to blame her.

But I couldn’t. Because she was right.

I failed. I had lost.

And no matter how many times I replayed the interview in my mind, nothing changed. The weight of it all pressed down on me, crushing, relentless.

I inhaled shakily, my chest tightening. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. Maybe I was always meant to lose everything.

Suddenly—A loud banging.

My head snapped up. Footsteps. They sound somewhat urgent.

Then, voices followed through it.

My friends.

"Manoj! Open the damn door!"

I stayed silent. The door handle rattled violently.

"Don’t make us break it down, you idiot!"

Ramu. I could hear the anger in his voice—but also something else. Fear.

They weren’t just here because they were worried. They were here because they thought I’d do something stupid.

|"Manoj, I swear if you don’t open this door, I’m gonna kill you myself!"|

Ramu’s voice was rough and frustrated. But I knew him.

He was scared. Keshava spoke next, his voice softer, pleading.

"You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to look at us. Just open the door, man. Please."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No!

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

They didn’t know what it felt like to lose everything in a single moment. To have a dream turn to dust. To watch someone you love walk away, believing you weren’t good enough.

I pressed my palms against my face, shaking. No! They didn’t understand.

I was alone. I had always been alone. Even my family, they left me alone.

Tears falling, I can't control it.

Did they know what it was like to be locked away for ten years?

To have everything stolen from you and never know why?

To have your entire existence reduced to nothing?

They didn’t understand. They didn’t know what it felt like to be—Completely, Utterly Helpless.

The air in the room felt thinner. My chest tightened more. I gritted my teeth. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them to go away.

But then—Suresh. His voice was quiet. Steady.

"Manoj."

Just my name. That’s all he said. A simple call.

A reminder.

I swallowed hard, my throat aching. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Manoj, we don’t care what happened. You don’t have to face this alone.” Keshava’s words hit something inside me. “You’re not alone”

Huh? I….. I'm not alone?

I could hear the desperation in Keshava’s voice. I could hear the fear in Ramu’s. I could hear Suresh’s quiet, unwavering faith.

Something inside me cracked.

A breath escaped my lips. A sob.

I gripped my hair, shaking.

They were here. Yes. They weren’t leaving.

And suddenly, I was terrified.

Terrified of losing this. I didn’t deserve them. I didn’t deserve their kindness.

But still…

They were here. My friends…. even my family leaves me, they are the only people who stand by my side, given the support to stand on my own feet.

I lifted my head. And wiped my face with the back of my hand, fingers wet with tears.

How could I ever call myself unlucky when I had them?

I clutched my phone tighter, staring at Kusuma’s face. Then, I pressed the power button. The screen faded to black. The past was still there. The pain still burned.

But with their support, I can do anything. Because they proved it.

Slowly, I stood up, my body weak, unsteady. My fingers trembled as I reached for the door. The lock clicked. The door creaked open.

Three faces stared back at me.

Ramu—his fists clenched, his face tight with frustration.

Keshava—his eyes full of relief and worry.

Suresh—holding a bag of food, trying to hide his emotions with a small smile.

The moment they saw me—Ramu punched my shoulder, hard.

"You asshole." His voice shook. "Do you know how worried we were?!"

I winced. "Ow."

Keshava suddenly pulled me into a hug. Tight and warm.

"You idiot," he murmured. "You don’t have to carry everything alone."

Suresh simply held up the food.

"Eat, dumbass."

I let out a small, breathless laugh. It was broken, but it was real.

They weren’t going anywhere. They were really here. And for the first time since the interview—

This friendship… this bond… I would never, ever abandon it.

– – – –

After I opened the door, they came inside and made me sit. Each one tried to make me laugh at their best. It really helped me to change my mood.

That way, the time had passed away to me.

…….

The night was silent. Too silent.

Even the usual sounds—the creaking of the old fan, the distant murmurs of other students—felt like they had faded into nothingness.

We had just finished dinner, and my friends were already sprawled out on their beds, lost in their own thoughts.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. But sleep never came. My mind was restless.

Kusuma’s face still haunted me. The interview replayed in my head like a broken record.

And yet, somewhere beneath the exhaustion, there was… something else. A small warmth.

I turned my head.

Ramu snored softly. Keshava was curled up in his blanket, lost in dreams. Suresh, even in sleep, clutched a bag of chips like a lifeline.

I exhaled, closing my eyes.

Maybe, just maybe… tomorrow would be different.

Then—

BZZT.

A sudden vibration against the mattress. My phone. I frowned, reaching for it.

A message at this hour?

I unlocked my phone and squinted at the screen. It was from an unknown number.

The message preview made my stomach drop. I clicked on it, my pulse pounding.

"Mr. Manoj Vardhan, you are now free. Your family has lifted all restrictions imposed on you. Starting tomorrow, you will regain your place and fame. Please read the remaining instructions carefully. We request you to kindly follow all procedures accordingly. Thank you, sir.”

My breath caught. My fingers tightened around the phone.

Free?

I blinked. My vision blurred. I reread the words.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

No! This couldn’t be real!

After ten years… why now? After everything they did to me—why now?

My hands trembled. A slow, creeping chill ran down my spine.

The world that once abandoned me…..was now calling me back?

I swallowed hard.

And more importantly—what had changed?