So let's begin,

Sehgal House – Evening

The trio trudged inside, school bags dragging a little lower than usual. Their faces carried the weight of the day, but their eyes worked overtime to hide it.

Akshu still had faint sweat stains clinging to her collar, her muscles aching from the endless tasks the senior boys had thrown at her. But she kept her chin high, lips curled into a forced smile.

Khushi’s knuckles were red and faintly swollen from the scale smacks, her bag clutched tightly as if hiding the evidence. She laughed a bit louder than usual, as if to drown out the sting inside her.

Vanshu’s hands were covered in tiny smudges of paint, the rush of competition still buzzing in her nerves. Her artwork hadn’t gone as perfectly as she imagined, as the weird messages from an unknown number distracted her mind everytime, but she didn’t want anyone to guess the turmoil.

In the living room, Bela was seated on the couch with a case file in hand, glasses low on her nose. Mahir was helping little Kiku piece together a puzzle on the carpet, while Aashi and Vanu sat nearby, bickering softly over crayons.

The moment Bela’s eyes lifted, the trio straightened instantly.

Bela (curtly): “Din kaisa tha?”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

Khushi (too quickly): “Good, ma’am. Bahut accha!”

Akshu (nodding, voice even): “Classes normal the… Baaki sab bhi theek-thaak.”

Vanshu (forcing a bright smile): “Haan, ma’am. Bas… thoda thak gaye h.”

Bela’s gaze lingered a second longer than they liked. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly, scanning each face. Something felt off — she could sense it — but the girls had pulled on their masks well.

Bela (warning tone): “Dhyan rakhna. Mai ek hafte ke liye waha nhi hu... Koi bhi cheez chhupane ki koshish mat karna. Agar pata chala, consequences tum jaanti ho.”

The trio exchanged a quick glance, almost gulping in unison, but quickly forced a chorus of:

Trio (together): “Yes, ma’am.”

From the carpet, Aashi tilted her head curiously.

Aashi (innocently): “Didi log itne chup kyun hain aaj? Normally toh bohot bolti h.”

Kiku giggled, adding with her usual bluntness:

Kiku: “Lagta hai secret hai inke paas!”

Mahir chuckled at the juniors’ observation, but Bela didn’t smile. She only pushed her glasses up her nose and gave the trio one last piercing look before returning to her file.

The three girls exhaled silently, retreating toward their room, carrying their unspoken struggles like shadows on their backs.

---

Sehgal House – The Trio’s Room, Night

The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the household. Normally, this was their space — the room that buzzed with chatter, complaints, giggles, and silly plans. But tonight, silence hung heavy.

Khushi dumped her bag on the chair, flopping onto the bed without her usual drama. She stared at the ceiling, absently rubbing her sore knuckles, the sting still fresh with every brush of her fingers.

Akshu sat at her study desk, opening her notebook half-heartedly. The pen rested idle in her hand as her mind replayed the faces of the senior boys, their mocking laughter echoing in her head. She clenched the pen tighter, jaw stiff.

Vanshu perched on the edge of her bed, phone clutched in her hand instead of her usual sketchbook. The screen lit up again — another message from that unknown number. Weird emojis… random teasing words… Nothing outright threatening, yet enough to unsettle her. She had ignored them all day, trying to brush it off as some silly prank, but now the restlessness crept in. Her fingers hovered over the reply box, then locked the phone instead, slipping it face-down on the bed. Normally, she would have filled the silence by showing her doodles or cracking a joke, but tonight her eyes kept darting toward that phone, her chest tight with unease she couldn’t explain.

The clock ticked softly. None of them spoke.

Usually, Khushi would have been the first to start — complaining about homework, or teasing Akshu’s seriousness, or snatching Vanshu’s pencil just to irritate her. But now she simply turned to her side, hugging a pillow tighter, lips pressed in a thin line.

Akshu glanced at her sisters once, then at Vanshu — both so quiet, so withdrawn. She wanted to ask, “Tum dono theek ho?” But the words stayed trapped. The exhaustion, and the fear of breaking down in front of each other stitched her mouth shut.

Vanshu felt the weight of the silence too. She traced absent patterns on the sheet with her finger, almost whispering something, but stopped midway.

Three girls, three battles, three masks. All under the same roof, in the same room — yet each drowning in her own thoughts, as if walls had risen between their beds.

The only sound was the faint whir of the ceiling fan, spinning above like a silent witness to their unspoken struggles.

---

NEXT DAY – SCHOOL

The last period bell had hardly rung, but each of the three carried yesterday’s weight silently.

Khushi sat in her bench, fidgeting as if already planning an escape route. In her mind, she had made up—as soon as the last bell rings, I’ll sprint straight to the auditorium… pehle hi seat le lungi before Ms. Radhika even steps out of the staff room. The thought gave her a mix of fear and thrill.

Akshu tied her hair tighter before badminton practice. Her jaw was set, her eyes sharper. No more distractions… no proving anything to those idiots. She had decided that today she would play only for herself—blood, sweat, and her own worth.

Meanwhile, Vanshu sat quietly, slipping her phone back into her bag after switching off her data. The last thing she wanted was another weird ping lighting up the screen, pulling her thoughts away. If I can’t see them, maybe I won’t feel so restless, she told herself, pressing her lips together as if sealing the matter.

Three girls, three silent battles. And yet, not one of them shared it with the other.

---

SCHOOL GROUND – AFTERNOON

Akshu wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, panting after another round of practice. She thought she was finally safe—focused, in her own zone, ignoring everything else.

But the moment she bent down to grab her bottle, shadows loomed over her. The same three senior boys stood there, smirks plastered on their faces.

Boy 1 (mocking):

“Energy toh full hai tumhari… kal saabit kar diya diya tumne. Lekin ek sawal hai, Akshika…”

Boy 2 (leaning closer):

“Strong aur fast ho, theek hai. Lekin intelligent bhi ho? Ya bas daudna hi aata hai?”

Akshu straightened up, frowning.

Akshu:

“Kya matlab?”

They exchanged grins, then pulled out their math notebooks, placing them on the bench in front of her.

Boy 3 (taunting):

“Shart lagate hain… yeh solve karke la do kal tak. Tabhi maanenge ki tum sach mein capable ho.”

Boy 2 (snickering):

“Warna… strong toh dog bhi hote hain, Akshika madam.”

Akshu’s fists clenched around her bottle. For a second she wanted to snap, but her pride flared. The anger in her chest burned hotter than the afternoon sun.

Akshu:

“Fine. Jo karna hai karo… kal dekh lena. Mai strong ke saath intelligent bhi teeno ko notebooks complete karke dungi.. ”

She snatched the notebooks, shoving them into her bag with trembling hands. The boys laughed as they walked off, leaving her fuming and yet trapped—knowing she had just added another impossible task on her shoulders.

Boy 1 (stepping closer, smirking):

“Ek aur baat…”

Boy 2 (mock casual):

“Agar kal tak pura complete karke nahi layi na…”

Boy 3 (finishing with a wicked grin):

“…toh jo hum bolenge, wahi karna hoga tumhe. Samjhi?”

Akshu freezes, her hand tightening around the bottle. Their mocking laughs echo in the ground.

Boy 1:

“Challenge hai. Accept karne ki himmat toh dikhayi hai… ab dekhte hain kaise nibhaati ho.”

They stroll off, leaving Akshu rooted to the spot—anger, fear, and determination clashing inside her.

---

SCHOOL CORRIDOR – AFTER CLASS

(The bell rings. Students rush out. Khushi clutches her bag tight, eyes darting toward the auditorium. She mutters to herself.)

Khushi (whispering):

“Bas aaj kisi bhi haalat mai bach ke auditorium pahunch jaaun…Radhika ma'am se bach ke nikalna hi hoga…”

She tiptoes as fast as she can, almost running. She’s just a few steps away from the auditorium door when a sharp voice freezes her.

Ms. Radhika (furious):

“KHUSHI! Ruko wahin!”

Khushi’s heart sinks. She turns slowly, caught red-handed. Radhika storms toward her, heels clicking on the floor.

Ms. Radhika (snatching her arm):

“Kya samajhti ho tum? Class ke baad seedha bhaag jaogi? Tumhe laga main tumhe dekh nahi rahi?”

Khushi (panicked, pleading):

“Ma’am, please… bas aaj ke liye jane dijiye… sirf ek ghante practice ki hai. Main baad mein waapas aake saare sums kar dungi, I promise! Please ma'am”

Ms. Radhika (eyes narrowing, voice cutting like a knife):

“Shut up, Khushi! Tumhare jaise students ke liye ‘promise’ ek mazak hai. Tumhe practice sirf padhai se bachne ke liye karni h.. Debate ka shauk hai, par padhai ke naam pe zero. Absolutely careless you are… bas bhaagna jaanti ho.”

Khushi (voice trembling, almost teary):

“Ma’am please… main try kar rahi hoon… I am not careless.”

Ms. Radhika (dragging her towards staff room):

“Enough! Abhi chal ke baitho mere saamne. Agar itna hi shauk hai practice ka toh pehle Maths ke marks improve karo pehle. Warna tumhari tarah ke students zindagi bhar sirf doosron ke liye mazak ban jaate hain. Just a failure, reckless student who cannot achieve anything in life. Kuch nhi hone wala h tumse.. Debate mai confidence chahiye hota h? And your confidence level is just zero.. So better not waste your time there in losing and focus on Maths atleast that will not get you a red mark on your report.”

Khushi bites her lip, tears stinging her eyes, clutching her bag tighter. She glances once at the closed auditorium door, hope slipping away, before being pulled inside the staff room.

---

ART ROOM – AFTER SCHOOL

Vanshu settles at her desk, sketchbook open, colors spread out. She looks calmer today, her phone switched off and tucked deep inside her bag.

Vanshu (muttering to herself, relieved):

“Finally… peace. No pings, no distractions. Ab bas focus on my art.”

She dips her brush, carefully sketching the outline. Just then, a folded piece of paper slides across the desk, stopping near her elbow. Vanshu frowns, looking around. No one close enough.

She unfolds it — the handwriting is hurried, unfamiliar.

Note: “Nice drawing, Vanshu. Lekin kitni der tak chupogi?”

Her stomach knots. She crumples the paper quickly, shoving it aside. She shakes her head, forcing herself to focus again.

Five minutes later, another note appears. This time near her bag.

Note: “Tumhe lagta hai phone band karne se hum ruk jaayenge?”

Vanshu’s breath quickens. She glances around the room — the other students are busy, no one looking her way. Her palms grow sweaty. She tries to catch a culprit’s eyes, but there’s no clue. Just normal chatter, pencils scratching, brushes swiping.

Soon, another slip lands on her sketchbook. Her hand trembles as she opens it.

Note: “Yeh toh bas shuruat hai.”

Vanshu stiffens. She presses her lips together, her brush slipping and smudging the page. She quickly stuffs the note under her book, looking over her shoulder again — but the sender remains a ghost. A restless fear churns in her stomach, making it impossible to concentrate on her art anymore.

---

SEHGAL HOUSE – TEAM UNSTOPPABLE’s ROOM – NIGHT

(The room that once echoed with laughter and endless chatter now sits in a heavy silence. The only sounds are the scratching of pens, the flipping of pages, and the faint strokes of a pencil against paper.)

Akshu sits at her desk, three notebooks spread open in front of her. Her brows are furrowed, lips pressed tight. The sums on the pages look alien — integration, complicated steps, formulas she hasn’t even been taught yet. Still, her hand moves stubbornly, trying, scribbling, cutting, rewriting. Her water bottle lies untouched, her eyes burning with fatigue but her pride refusing to give up.

Khushi, on the other side, is hunched over her maths notebook. Red pen marks from Ms. Radhika’s corrections haunt her like scars. Every time her hand trembles or she forgets a step, she hears those sharp words echo in her head — “Silly girl, can’t even do basic maths… disgraceful.” She bites her lip hard, frustration swelling inside her, but forces herself to write carefully, determined not to give Ms. Radhika another excuse to humiliate her.

Vanshu has her sketchbook open, pencil hovering over the page. She tries to focus, to sketch the outline of a scenery she imagined earlier, but her eyes keep flicking toward her bag. The memory of those crumpled notes from the art room burns in her mind. “Yeh toh bas shuruat hai.” She shudders slightly, hands clammy, her pencil smudging instead of sketching. She rubs the page harshly, her face pale with unease.

(The trio sit together but apart — three souls drowning in their own battles. Usually by now, they would be teasing, sharing snacks, or whispering about plans. But tonight, not a word escapes their lips. The silence is louder than ever.)

(The clock ticks on, unnoticed. Their eyes are tired, their hearts heavier. And though none of them say it aloud, one thought lingers in each mind — How much longer can I keep this a secret?)

---

TEAM UNSTOPPABLE’s ROOM – NIGHT

(The clock has struck past 10. The trio remain glued to their desks — Akshu scribbling furiously over those impossible sums, Khushi crossing and rewriting her maths steps with trembling hands, Vanshu sketching half-heartedly, her page more smudges than lines.)

(Outside, Mahir quietly closes the door of the juniors’ room after tucking Team Aashvi in. As he walks down the corridor, his eyes fall on the thin stream of light slipping through the trio’s half-closed door. He slows down, brows furrowing.)

Mahir (thinking, sighing):

“Aaj itni shaanti kaise h? Usually toh yeh teeno baatein karte rehte h.. Hasi mazak, ek dusre ko chedhna… Bela ke darr ke beech bhi nautanki dhoondh lete hain yeh teeno. Par kal se notice kar raha hoon… ajeeb sa sukoon — ya phir kehna chahiye kisi baat se pareshaan h teeno?”

(He hesitates, glancing once toward the main door — still waiting for Bela, caught up with her case. Then his gaze returns to the trio’s room, worry tightening in his chest. He raises his hand and gives a gentle knock on the door.)

Mahir (softly):

“Khushi… Akshu… Vanshu… andar aa sakta hoon?”

(Inside, the trio freeze for a moment. Khushi bites her lip, Akshu looks up guiltily from her pile of notebooks, and Vanshu hurriedly flips her sketchbook shut. They exchange quick, nervous glances, whispering with their eyes — ab kya karein? — before Khushi forces herself to get up and open the door.)

(The door creaks open to reveal Mahir, leaning casually on the frame, his usual warm smile tugging at his lips but his eyes scanning them carefully.)

Mahir (lightly teasing, but with concern hidden):

“Arre… yeh kaisi shaanti chalayi hui hai yahan? Lagta hai IAS ki taiyari chal rahi ho… itni shaanti toh police station ke lock-up mein hoti hai.Sab theek toh hai na?”

(The trio exchange awkward smiles. Akshu scratches her head, Khushi blurts first, her voice a little too fast.)

Khushi:

“Woh… bas homework kar rahe the ma’am ka… kal subah check hoga na, isliye.”

Akshu (quickly adding):

“Haan, bas thoda zyada mila hai iss baar. Isliye serious lag raha hoga.”

Vanshu (faking casual, but voice low):

“Haan… bas normal hi hai. Hum theek hain.”

(Mahir narrows his eyes, stepping closer. He picks up one of Akshu’s notebooks lying open. His brows furrow at the sums inside — complicated equations way beyond class 9 syllabus.)

Mahir (thinking, silently):

Yeh… yeh toh integration hai. 9th standard ke bacchon ka kaam nahi. Fir yeh Akshu ke paas kaise?

(He doesn’t confront it immediately. Instead, he shifts his gaze to Khushi’s notebook, red pen marks all over, mistakes slashed in harsh strokes. His jaw tightens. Then his eyes fall on Vanshu — who quickly hides her sketchbook under her elbow, avoiding his gaze.)

(Mahir straightens up, speaking gently but firmly now.)

Mahir:

“Dekho… tum teeno jitna bhi chupa lo, mujhe samajh aa raha hai kuch toh gadbad hai. Normal din mein tum log mujhe itni shaanti se kabhi nahi milte. Hamesha shor machta hai, ek-do nautanki zaroor hoti hai.”

(The trio freeze, exchanging guilty looks. Khushi’s throat tightens; Akshu stares down at her hands; Vanshu nervously fiddles with her pencil. Mahir sighs, crouching down to their eye level.)

Mahir (softly, almost father-like):

“Main tumhara teacher nahi hoon, aur na hi koi inspector. Mujhe apna… friend samajh lo. Mai tumhari ma'am ka husband baad mai.. Tu logo ke liye sir baad mai pehle ek friend hoon.. Is liye agar kuch ho raha hai na, toh bata do. Nahi toh kal ya parso yeh sab khud hi bahar aa jaayega… aur us din tumhe aur mushkil hogi.”

(The trio remain silent, eyes dropping, the weight of their secrets pressing harder. Mahir studies their faces — their hesitation only confirming his doubts. But he doesn’t push further tonight. He gently pats Khushi’s head, ruffles Vanshu’s hair, and places a hand on Akshu’s shoulder.)

Mahir (smiling softly, hiding his concern):

“Thik hai… abhi ke liye tumhari marzi. Lekin ek baat yaad rakhna — koi bhi problem ho choti ya badi , tum teeno akeli nahi ho. Samjhi?”

(He rises and moves toward the door, giving them one last knowing look before leaving. The trio exchange uneasy glances, their silence heavier than before.)

---

(The door clicks shut softly behind Mahir. Silence lingers, heavier than before. The trio sit frozen in their spots, the echoes of his words playing in their heads.)

Khushi (thinking, clutching her pen tight):

Yeh sir… hamesha itne calm aur caring kaise rehte hain? Agar Bela ma’am hoti toh ab tak daant ke saara sach pata kar leti. Unhone bina kuch puchhe samajh liya ki main theek nahi hoon… Par main unhe sab kaise bataun? Agar ma’am ko pata chala toh? Akshu - Vanshu bhi pareshaan h lekin? Par bata kyu nhi rahe? Shayad practice ka stress hoga.. Warna bata dete..

(She bites her lip, frustration bubbling again, but deep inside, there’s a flicker of comfort in knowing someone noticed her pain.)

Akshu (thinking, staring at the half-solved integration sum):

Unhone sirf ek nazar mein dekh liya ki yeh mera kaam nahi hai. Matlab… he actually cares. Na hi unhone force kiya, na hi gussa kiya. Bas… samjhaya. Yeh wali strength mujhe kabhi ma'am se feel hi nahi hoti.. Kyuki wo bohot direct h.. Apne tarike se sach nikalwana jaanti h.. Par sir ne kuch nhi kaha.. Aur main in seniors ke challenge ke baare mein kaise batati? Khushi aur vanshu ko bhi pata chal jaata sab.. Already dono pareshan h.. Aur mai sir ke saamne weak nahi lagna chahti.

(She exhales sharply, her pride clashing with her fear, but Mahir’s words keep echoing: “Tum akeli nahi ho.”)

Vanshu (thinking, hugging her sketchbook to her chest):

Woh… unhone meri kehne se pehle hi sab samajh liya. Mere itna normal rehne ke baad bhi sir ke samajh gaye. Agar mai bata dun ki mujhe kaun message bhej raha hai, toh shayad help mil jaaye… Par phir sab mujhe weak samjhenge. Aur Bela ma’am ka reaction… woh toh soch ke hi darr lagta hai.

(She presses her sketchbook harder against herself, as if shielding her secret. Still, for the first time that day, her restless heart feels a little lighter — someone cares enough to notice.)

(The three of them avoid each other’s eyes, lost in their own whirlpool of thoughts. Yet deep down, each one silently acknowledges the same truth: Mahir’s quiet care has touched them in a way they didn’t expect. He may not have their answers, but tonight, his presence has become their unspoken reassurance.)

---

SCHOOL – NEXT DAY

The sun was bright, but for Team Unstoppable, the day already felt like a storm.

GROUND – Akshu’s Side

(Akshu stood stiff in the middle of the sports arena, her eyes burning with humiliation. The notebooks given by the senior boys lay unfinished — half attempts, half scribbles. She was a fighter on the court, but here, against these bullies, she was cornered. Because according to the condition she couldn't complete those books and now true to her words she has to face these boys.)

Boy 1 (mocking):

“Badminton queen? Aur teen notebook nhi khatam paayi tchh. Ab dikhate hain tujhe asli practice.”

Askhu(internally burning in anger):

Yeh ladko ka bohot zyada hi raha h na.. Lekin maine hi shart lagayi thi book complete karne.. Uff kaha fas gayi.. Mujhe laga ek baar inhe saabit kar dungi ki mai weak nhi hu toh yeh peeche chod denge par yeh toh ab hadd paar kar rahe h.. Lekin ab agar inki baat nhi suni toh zindagi bhar chidhayenge mujhe.. Nhi mai aisa nhi hone de sakti.. Baad mai batati hu tujhe ruk beta.. Bohot zyada maze aa rahe h na tujhe.. Ek baar yeh sab khatam ho jaaye phir dekhna kaise nani yaad dilati hoon teeno ko.. Seedha yamraj ke darshan nhi karwa diye na toh mera naam bhi Akshika nhi.. Bohot galat insaan se panga liya h tum logo ne..

(They force her into a murga position, laughter echoing around the ground. Akshu’s arms ache, legs trembling, but their mocking only grows louder. When she tries to resist, one of them pushes her lightly, making her stumble. The ragging slowly turns cruel, edging into physical torture. Akshu’s pride burns, but her eyes sting with unshed tears. This isn’t proving strength — this is suffocation.)

---

CLASSROOM – Khushi’s Side

(Meanwhile, in the staff room, Khushi sat with her notebook open. Ms. Radhika hovered over her, voice cutting like a whip.)

Ms. Radhika (snapping):

“Ek simple sa sum tumhe samajh hi kyun nahi aata? Class 9 ki student ho tum! Itne silly mistakes? Kya kar rahi ho din bhar?”

(Her scale cracks sharply against Khushi’s knuckles. Khushi flinches, biting back a retort. The frustration bubbling inside her was volcanic now. The inter-school debate she dreamed of, her practice, her freedom — all stolen by these endless humiliations.)

Khushi (thinking, her nails digging into her palm):

Yeh koi padhane ka tareeka hota h? Yeh toh bas insult kar rahi h? Har baat pe chilana… har galti pe maarna… Mujhe yeh sab bilkul pasand nahi aa raha. Par kaise nikli isse bahar.. Kisse jaake kahu? Bas ek din aur sehna mushkil hai... Bhagwaan ji mujhe patience dena ki koi limit na cross kar du bas.. Kyuki yeh sab ab mere patience ke bahar h.. "

(Her jaw tightens, the rebellious spark growing even as fear chains her down.)

---

ART ROOM – Vanshu’s Side

(In the quiet of the art room, Vanshu tried to focus on her sketch. The lines of her pencil trembled as another folded chit landed on her desk. Her stomach twisted. She looked around desperately, but no one seemed guilty. The classroom looked normal — too normal.)

(Slowly, she opened the note. The same chilling handwriting. The same teasing words.)

Note (scribbled):

“Pretty hands… busy sketching again? Don’t ignore me. I’m watching.”

(Vanshu’s fingers went cold. She quickly crumpled the chit and shoved it into her pocket. Her heart raced so fast it hurt. She had switched off her phone to escape this… but whoever it was, they had found another way. Her breath grew shallow as she clutched her sketchbook, fighting the urge to cry.)

Vanshu (thinking, terrified):

Kaun hai yeh? Kyun mera peecha nahi chhod raha? Kya sabko pata chal gaya toh? Nahi… Nahi main kisi ko nahi bata sakti… lekin agar aise hi chalta raha toh jeena mushkil ho jayega mujhe pata lagana hoga yeh kiski harkat h..

---

Akshu, forced into humiliating tasks, her spirit breaking under the boys’ ragging.

Khushi, insult after insult under Radhika ma’am’s ruthless tongue, every scale-hit pushing her frustration closer to explosion.

Vanshu, drowning in the unseen threat of anonymous messages, her heart restless, her hands trembling too much to even draw.

The trio — usually unstoppable — were now trapped in battles none of them knew how to escape. The days dragged on like a punishment in themselves, each sunrise only tightening the noose around the trio. What had started as small struggles was now a storm brewing inside them. For Akshu, the seniors never let her breathe in peace; the weight of unfinished notebooks and their constant humiliation gnawed at her spirit, their mocking laughter ringing in her ears even when she sat alone. Khushi, on the other hand, felt trapped under Ms. Radhika’s ruthless gaze — every word of insult cutting her deeper, every strike of the scale adding to her frustration, until the burden of humiliation was heavier than her books. And Vanshu, though she switched off her net, found no escape either; the mysterious notes that kept appearing in her hands or desk were like shadows that followed her everywhere, twisting her stomach in fear and restlessness. The three sisters, usually each other’s strength, were now silent volcanoes ready to erupt — keeping their pain hidden, yet burning from within. By the end of the week, their laughter, their endless chatter, even their small inside jokes had vanished. The trio, once unstoppable together, now moved through the school corridors like ghosts weighed down by battles no one could see — until finally, on the last day, the cracks began to show, pushing them to the very edge.

[Staff Room – Afternoon]

Khushi sat at the desk, jaw tight, pen moving half-heartedly across the paper. Beside her, Ms. Radhika’s sharp voice droned like a constant drill, every word cutting deeper than the scale she kept tapping against the table.

Ms. Radhika (coldly):

“See yahi wajah hai tumhari backwardness ki. Tumhe samajhna hi nahi hai padhai ki importance. Bas timepass karna h.”

Khushi kept her gaze fixed on the notebook, lips pressed into a thin line, silently enduring the sting.

Just then, the door creaked open and a debate team member hurried inside.

Girl (hesitant):

“Excuse me Ma’am… can I talk to Khushi for a minute?”

Ms. Radhika gave a curt nod, and the girl turned toward Khushi.

Girl (hesitant):

“Uh… Khushi… mujhe kehna tha… tumhari jagah kisi aur ka selection ho gaya hai. Tum ek bhi practice mein nahi aayi… toh ab tum participate nahi kar sakti. Aisa head ma'am ne bola h..”

The words struck like lightning. Khushi froze, her pen slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the desk. Her mind spun, heart sinking.

Khushi (stammering):

“Kya…? Nahi… aisa kaise… see... I have my reasons please don't cancel my name.. I really want this opportunity.. Mai.. Mai kal se pakka aaungi practice ke liye chahe jo ho jaaye but don't do this…” (her voice shook, eyes brimming)

Girl (apologetic):

“I am sorry Khushi but the decision has been taken..”

She excused herself and left quickly, leaving Khushi’s world collapsing around her. Her throat tightened, the weight of lost opportunity pressing down on her chest. This was supposed to be her escape — her chance — and now it was gone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Khushi caught Ms. Radhika’s faint smirk as she leaned back in her chair.

Ms. Radhika (voice sharp as knives):

“Good. Ab tumhari faltu nautanki bhi khatam. Dekho Khushi, tumhare parents itna paisa kharch karte hai tum par… aur tum kar kya rahi ho? Bas time waste. Na padhai, na discipline. Tum jaise bachche apne maa-baap ko sirf embarrass karte hain. You are shame on them.. Not respecting their hardwork.. Just being selfish.. Now sit and finish the sums..”

The words landed harder than a slap.

“Maa-baap…” The word echoed like a dagger in Khushi’s chest. Her parents’ faces flashed in her mind — proud, trusting, hopeful — now twisted into shame under Radhika’s cruel tone.

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms as her body trembled.

Khushi’s POV (internal):

Bas. Ab aur nahi. Roz seh rahi thi main… har insult, har taunt, har punishment. Lekin parents ke naam pe…?

Her chair screeched against the floor as she stood abruptly, eyes blazing with unshed tears.

Khushi (voice breaking, yet furious):

“Bas Ma’am! Bohot bol liya aapne aur bohot suniya maine.. Aapko koi haq nahi hai mere parents ke baare mein aise bolne ka! Aapko lagta hai main careless hoon? Main koshish nahi karti? Din raat sirf aapke diye hue punishments poore kar rahi hoon main! Main bhi insaan hoon… maine aapse kitni request ki.. I was begging in front of you ki mujhe jaane dijiye practice ke liye ma'am please.. Par aapne meri ek nhi suni.. Aapki wajah se mera selection cancel ho gaya h...ho gayi khushi ab aap? Karwa liya mujhse maths.. Teacher kehti h aap khud ko.. Aise handle karti h aap students ko unki insult karke.. Unke parents ke baare mai bakwaas karke.. Toh ek baat Jaan lijiye.. Mai sab kuch bardasht kar sakti hoon par agar unke khilaaf ek shabd bola na mai apni saari limits bhul jaungi.. Phir is baat se bhi fark nhi padega mujhe ki aap ek "teacher" h.. !”

Her voice rang across the room, louder than she intended. The entire staff room fell silent, every eye on her.

Ms. Radhika’s face stiffened in disbelief, then hardened with fury.

Ms. Radhika (furiously):

“HOW DARE YOU talk to me like that!”

But Khushi didn’t flinch this time. Her tears slipped free, but her gaze burned with defiance.

Khushi (voice cracking):

“And HOW DARE YOU insult my parents Ms. Radhika.. Main chup thi kyunki socha aap teacher h… izzat karti rahi... Patience se khud ko roz samjhati rahi ki theek h.. Shayad aap ek din meri baat samajh jaaye.. Ek din aapko meri sincerity dikh jaaye but no..” (her voice rising to a shout) “No! I was wrong... Ek baat kehna chahungi ma'am.. Bohot choti hoon aapse lekin ek baat maine bhi apne parents se seekhi h aur acche se jaanti hoon.. Ki izzat kamaayi jaati hai, zabardasti nahi thopi jaati... Aur Bela ma'am ne wo izzat kamayi h humare mann mai.. Aapne Bela ma'am ki insult ki.. kyu? Jaanti kya h aap unke baare mai.. Kal ki aayi hui teacher Bela ma'am ko seekhayengi how to teach.. Aree jaake pehle aap seekh ke aaiye... Ki padhate kaise h.. Aaj samajh aa gaya mujhe... Bela ma'am is way much better than you.. Unhone kabhi mere parents ki ya meri insult nhi ki.. Galtiyon pe daanta h.. Maara bhi h.. Punish bhi kiya h.. Lekin phir samajhaya bhi h ki un galtiyon ko kaise sudhaarna h.. Aur aap Day 1 se bas mujhe humiliate kar rahi h.. Mere parents ke baare mai bakwaas kar rahi h.. Wo bohot acche se jaante h ki unki beti kya kar sakti h aur kya nhi toh uski tension aapko lene ki zaroorat nhi h.. Aur ek baar kaan khol ke sun lijiye aap bhi.. Agli baar agar aapne Bela ma'am ya mere mummy papa ke khilaaf ek shabd bhi bola na.. Toh main bardasht nahi karungi. NEVER.”

Her hands shook as she snatched her bag, tears streaking her face, but her chin lifted high with pride. Without another glance, Khushi stormed out of the room.

Ms. Radhika stood frozen in stunned silence, her anger caught in her throat, while the other teachers exchanged wide-eyed whispers at what they had just witnessed.

---

SPORTS GROUND – SAME AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun burned down on the dusty court. Sweat, dust, and mocking laughter hung in the air.

Akshu’s chest heaved — not from running, but from everything she had been carrying for days. The endless tasks, the petty humiliations, the boys’ taunts. It had piled up, brick by brick, until now.

When one of them shoved her — a careless little push meant to mock — something in her snapped.

She didn’t shout. She acted.

In one swift step, Akshu closed the gap, her hand shooting out to grip the collar of the loudest boy. Her hold was steady, not frantic — a warning more than an outburst.

Akshu (cold, low voice):

“Bas ab bohot ho gayi tum logo ki nautanki. Roz yeh jo meri strength check karne ke naam pe mujhse shart lagate ho… meri ragging le rahe ho na… sab samajh aa raha hai mujhe. Ab sun lo… ek baar aur tum log ne mujhe tang kiya ya idhar ground ke aas paas bhi nazar aaye na — toh main tumhe chhodungi nahi. Samjhe? Phir tumhe asliyat mein meri strength ka pata chal jayega.”

The boy’s smirk faltered. He tried to twist free, surprise flashing in his eyes.

Boy 1 (sputtering, struggling):

“A-arey chhodo yaar! Kya kar rahi hai tu?!”

But Akshu’s eyes were steady, blazing with a mix of anger, pride, and exhaustion.

Akshu:

“Nahi chodungi. Tum logon ne mera time waste kiya, meri izzat ke saath khela hai… mujhe pareshan kiya hai… meri ragging ki hai. Ab ek aur baar agar idhar dikh gaye na toh itna maarungi ki yahi dharti pe nark ke darshan ho jayenge...Samjhe? Aur yeh saari baatein jaake na Bela ma’am ko bata dungi. Aur wo meri baat pe vishwas zaroor karengi. Phir tumhare liye acha nahi hoga. Samjhe?”

A hush spread over the court. The boys leaning lazily against the railing suddenly straightened. A couple of girls who had been half-watching lowered their phones, unsure whether to record or step in.

Another boy barked out a laugh — forced, shaky.

Boy 2 (mocking, uneasy):

“Tu serious hai kya? Aise hi chhod denge hum tujhe? Bela ma’am ke naam se dara rahi hai… yeh attitude kahi aur dikhana, hum nahi darte kisi se.”

Akshu’s jaw tightened. She let her grip linger on the collar for a beat longer — the silence heavier than any words.

Akshu (quiet, deadly calm):

“Main serious hoon. Ab yahi tumhara choice hai — yaha se nikal jao warna yahi maarungi… ya Bela ma’am ko bata dungi. Consequences bhugatna phir. Main dono kar sakti hoon.”

Just then, a sharp whistle cut the tension.

The Coach strode in, expression hard.

Coach (stern):

“Kya ho raha hai yahan? Akshika, leave them. Aur tum log — ground se hatt jao. Abhi.”

Akshu released the collar only when the Coach’s firm hand landed on her shoulder. She stepped back, still breathing hard, but her stance unshaken. The boys, a little pale now, muttered under their breath and retreated. Their laughter was gone.

The Coach pulled Akshu a few paces aside, lowering his voice.

Coach (quiet, serious):

“Yeh tarika theek nahi. Tum log khud discipline seekho. Aur tum, Akshika — thik ho? Aise ladko ko handle karna aasan nahi. Agar kuch hua toh mujhe bata dena. Samjhi?”

Akshu swallowed, the fire still simmering inside her — but for the first time, she felt a strange relief. She had drawn her line.

Akshu (breathing out):

“Ji sir. Main thik hoon.”

She wiped the sweat off her forehead, picked up her racket again. Around her, the atmosphere had shifted. The ground wasn’t mocking anymore — it was watching.

On the sideline, a girl whispered to her friend, voice filled with admiration.

Girl (softly):

“Waise tum bohot strong ho… ekdum sahi kiya tumne. Ab shayad ye log do baar sochenge.”

Practice resumed, but the lines had changed. Akshu moved with a new focus — not to prove anything, but because she had finally refused to be pushed around.

---

ART ROOM – AFTERNOON

Vanshu sat at her easel, brush hovering mid-air, eyes fixed on the canvas. Her hand trembled slightly, not from the paint, but from the fluttering anger in her chest. Another folded note slid silently onto her desk. She picked it up, eyes scanning the familiar teasing words. Her patience, stretched thin over the past week, finally snapped.

Vanshu (muttering under her breath, teeth clenched):

“Bas! Ab aur nahi…”

She grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, her fingers moving quickly, furiously:

Vanshu’s Note (boldly written):

"Himmat hai toh saamne aake baat karo. Yeh peeth peeche se kya message bhej rahe ho?"

She placed the note squarely on the desk, leaving it where the sender couldn’t miss it, and pushed back from her chair, exhaling sharply. The quiet of the art room felt charged, almost like a challenge hanging in the air.

Across the room, hidden behind a stack of sketchbooks and observing from a safe distance, the boy responsible for the notes leaned forward, smirking. He picked up Vanshu’s note, reading every word slowly. A glint of amusement and mischief flashed in his eyes.

Boy (smirking, quietly to himself):

“Ohh… she finally snapped. Interesting. Chal, ab dekhte hain agla plan kaunsa ho…”

Already, he was plotting another way to provoke her, the tension between them set to escalate further. Meanwhile, Vanshu, unaware, returned to her painting, determination mixing with frustration, ready to not let him see her flinch.

---

SCHOOL EXIT – AFTERNOON

Vanshu trudged out of school, shoulders tense, bag heavy on her back, burning with frustration. Akshu and Khushi were already waiting a few steps ahead. The trio’s anger simmered beneath the surface, each lost in her own thoughts about the week’s chaos.

No sooner had Vanshu stepped onto the pavement than he appeared — the boy who had been tormenting her with notes and messages all this while. Smirking, leaning casually, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Boy (teasing, loud enough for her to hear):

“Well, Vanshu… looks like someone’s finally out of class. How’s my favorite artist today? You know, aaj bohot khush hoon mai… Finally you called me.. Aur dekho tumne bulaya aur mai aa gaya..”

He stepped closer, tone flirty and mocking, passing snide remarks with a smirk. Vanshu stiffened, trying to sidestep, to create distance, but every step back he mirrored with a step forward. Her heart raced, panic rising — she knew he’d corner her soon.

Just as his hands reached toward her, two strong arms shot out. Akshu’s eyes blazed, fury burning hotter than the afternoon sun. With a swift, controlled punch, she sent him sprawling backward onto the pavement.

Akshu (burning with anger):

“Himmat kaise hui teri saale… Haath kaise lagaya tune Vanshu ko.. Yahi jaan se maarke khatam kar dungi.. Usko chedhega tu… Itni himmat teri…”

Before he could recover, Khushi grabbed his collar, her hand slapping him hard across the face.

Khushi (through gritted teeth, furious):

“Ab bas! Tumhare chakkar ka time khatam! Samjhe? Meri Vanshu ko pareshaan karega… Maar maar ke teri shakal suar se bhi kharab kar dungi! Haath kaise lagaya tune usko… Kya samjha, akeli hai wo? Haa… Ab batate hain tujhe.”

The boy groaned, stunned and humiliated, sitting on the ground as the trio stood tall together — united, protective, and unafraid. Vanshu exhaled shakily, heart still racing, but the sight of her friends standing with her brought a fierce sense of relief.

But Khushi and Akshu were burning with uncontrollable anger. They kept hitting him relentlessly. Akshu’s knuckles turned red, bleeding from the continuous punches, while Khushi kept kicking him wherever she could. Other students panicked, stepping back — no one dared protect him or take his side. The sheer force of their fury was undeniable; the boy groaned on the ground, barely able to move, his pride shattered. But Khushi and Akshu’s anger had no bounds. Every insult, every teasing note, every torment from the past week boiled over into unrestrained fury.

Akshu (yelling, rage in her voice):

“Tu pagal hai kya! Tune soch bhi kaise ki humari vanshu ko chedh ke bach jayega tu haa?! Abhi toh teri jaan lekar rahenge hum.”

Khushi (furious, voice cracking with anger):

“Haath lagaya tune… HAATH LAGAYA! Kya samjha, hum bas bacche hai? Abhi dikhate h tujhe.. Tujhe hospital na bhej diya toh hum bhi Team Unstoppable nhi!”

They shouted, swore, their words dripping with venom, crossing the limits they usually held in check. The boy’s eyes rolled back as he barely tried to defend himself, each punch and kick hitting harder than the last.

Vanshu, seeing her friends lose all sense of control, felt a panic rising. She ran forward, grabbing Akshu by the arm.

Vanshu (shouting):

“BAS! Abhi Ruko! Tum log apni limit bhool rahe ho! Enough! Ruk jao yaar ho gaya bas... Chod do usse.. Wo behosh ho jayega..”

But Khushi and Akshu were blind in their rage, ignoring her pleas. Vanshu tried again, pushing between them, heart pounding, but their fists kept flying.

Suddenly, the faint but unmistakable sound of a police jeep siren pierced the air. Everyone froze. The boy let out a groan of relief, slumping further as fear flickered in his eyes.

The siren’s echo brought an abrupt clarity to Khushi and Akshu. Their anger still simmered, but their fists slowly lowered. Vanshu took a deep breath, gripping their arms, forcing them to step back.

Vanshu (firmly, almost trembling):

“Stop… NOW...Tum log seriously pagal ho gaye ho kya.. Aise kaun karta h.. Haalat dekho apni.. Aise karoge toh phir hum khud phas jaayenge.”

The three girls finally stepped back, chest heaving, eyes blazing,knuckles red, hearts pounding. The boy lay on the ground, coughing and groaning, completely terrified, while other students watched in stunned silence.

The air was thick with adrenaline, anger, and the echo of what could have been a disaster — all brought back into check by the shrill warning of law and order.

Vanshu’s hands still shaking, she looked at Khushi and Akshu, both still trembling but slowly realizing how far they had gone.

Vanshu (softly, almost to herself):

“Bas… ab nhi ho gaya bohot.. Shaant ho jao dono…”

The boy, pale and battered, realized he had underestimated them entirely.

The police jeep, which had been passing by, screeched to a halt as the commotion drew its attention. The doors swung open, and Bela stepped out.

The sight of her made the trio’s faces drain of color instantly. Khushi and Akshu, if they could, would have vanished into thin air.

Bela, in her crisp uniform, eyes sharp and unreadable, strode toward the scene. Her gaze took in everything — the boy on the ground, the girls still tense with rage, Vanshu standing a little behind, wide-eyed, the huge crowd gathering that seemed to be enjoying a love show.

Bela (sternly, voice cutting through the tension):

“Kya ho raha hai yaha?”

Khushi and Akshu fell silent, heads bowed, their so-called heroics evaporating in an instant. The air seemed to shrink around them.

The boy groaned from the pavement, clutching his side.

Boy (weakly, panic in his voice):

“Ma’am… yeh… yeh do ladkiyon ne bohot maara… please bacha lijiye…”(he says pointing towards Akshu and Khushi)

He groaned again, trying to shift away, terror written all over his face.

Instead of fear, Khushi and Akshu’s anger flared again. They exchanged a glance, voices low but seething.

Khushi (through gritted teeth, furious):

“Shukar mana zinda chod diya tujhe…”

Akshu (snapping, equally fierce):

“Warna Vanshu ko haath lagane wali ki… Jaan le lete hum…”

Vanshu, watching this unfold, tilted her head slightly, a mix of awe and disbelief washing over her. Even in front of Bela, the girls’ guts, their fearlessness, hadn’t faded. She could see the fire in her friends’ eyes, the same fire that had protected her all this time.

Bela’s expression remained sharp, unreadable, but her gaze lingered on the trio. She had seen enough — yet another reminder of their relentless spirit, even when they should have been terrified.

---

To be continued..