Chapter- 15

 The sound of a sharp bell echoed through the corridors of St. Mary's. Students spilled out into the canteen or the basketball court to have their brunch. Radha, like her usual self, stayed behind in her classroom, in the quiet corner seat by the window that had become her sanctuary away from noise, attention, and eyes that judged too quickly.

She was preparing for her upcoming mathematics test, which was to be held right after a few periods. She was panicking because her heart didn't want to make a mistake of any kind. Just yesterday, she had given her chemistry test, as decided by Vrushali, her chemistry teacher, and for the first time, she didn't feel anxiety creeping into her veins like she always felt.

The reason was obvious to her. Her Bhaiya! Mahir left for his business trip four days ago, he was the one calling her five times a day to check on her and even texting her to ask about the others things.

For Radha, it was all a new experience. Her brother was a rockstar. When he held concerts or events outside of Mumbai, even though they were rare, he made sure to stay in touch with all his siblings.

But what made it special was that now she had her own phone. Unlike every time before, she didn't need to ask Abhi or Arjun if Mahir had called or if he was fine, when will he return, and so on...

This time she had her phone, but the apprehension held her back at some point. Sometimes she would refrain herself from calling, fearing that she would disturb her brother or sometimes with the thought of her being annoying. Her father hated it when she called him on his business trips. Eventually, her instincts held her back.

But Mahir made everything easy for her. Even when she was scared right before her exam yesterday, he called her to calm her racing thoughts, something her parents never did. Radha knew she wasn't giving a board exam or final semester yet, but the fear of failing, the fear of disappointing, and slipping coursed through her veins. And Mahir, with just a few words, grounded her.

Radha felt something in her heart; a feeling of being loved, not being unwanted anymore, not being the chosen one or the imposed one. She felt warmth spread across her heart every time Mahir did something for her. Her brother was giving her reasons to forget what had happened and focus on the present. For the first time, Radha found herself asking, was it all worth it?

"Hey, nerdy," a mocking voice rang out from the doorway.

Radha froze and lifted her eyes. The trio stood there; Riya, Sneha, and Trisha, one year senior to her, dressed perfectly in ironed skirts and sweaters. Together, they sauntered inside like they owned the room.

Riya slammed a notebook onto Radha's desk. "We told you to finish this for us. But you decided to hide from us? Do you think that will help you? Save you from us?"

Radha stared at the notebook blankly as if she didn't hear anything. 'Avoidance is bliss!' she reminded herself, but the girls were having none of it. 

Trisha held Radha's jaw, forcing her to look at them. "What do you think? You will behave like this and we will just walk away?"

Again, silence.

Sneha chuckled bitterly. "Maybe Ms. Nerdy has forgotten what happens when she doesn't reply to us."

The girls exchanged knowing looks. Riya stepped forward, grabbing Radha by her arms and yanking her to her feet.

"Let's just teach you some lesson bi***h," she hissed while pulling Radha out of her desk.

Radha still remained silent, letting the girls push her from behind down the empty corridor. Even though she stumbled, she held herself back, breaking the fall and just wanting to get it over with.

Behind the school building, where the broken fence met the banyan tree, Radha was shoved against the wall harshly. The air was thick with the anticipation of what was coming.

Sneha slammed Radha back, pinning her against the wall. "You think you can bloody ignore us?" she spat.

Trisha's laughter rang out, filled with fury. "Come on, Radhika, say something. At least beg us, and we will show you some mercy."

Riya lit a cigar between her fingers, staring at Radha. The girl was pathetic; even her own parents claimed the same, and they just loved to bully such whims.

She stepped forward, hoping to see fear lingering in Radha's eyes, but much to her rotten luck, the girl had gotten used to their taunts, their ways. Still, that didn't stop them.

"Hand over all your money," she commanded coldly, "as compensation for failing to complete our work."

"I don't have anything," Radha muttered, staring at the ground.

A hard slap echoed through the empty backyard. Radha's eyes watered at the sting, but no voice escaped her lips.

"Check her bag," Riya ordered.

Trisha and Sneha tore open the bag they had brought with them. Turning it upside down, books scattered against the dusty ground, and the papers flew across, leaving it empty.

"Such a big surname, but reality is worse than that of a beggar," Riya taunted, taking another puff from her cigar.

"Now what?" Sneha asked, delivering a hard blow to Radha's gut, making her double down in pain.

Riya shrugged. "Nothing; we deliver the consequence. I want to hear her beg."

Trisha smirked, landing another blow on the same spot as Sneha did. With one more shove, one more punch, a sequence rained down. Radha stumbled, falling to her knees, her palms scraping against the rough concrete. Still, she didn't fight back, didn't scream, didn't even look at them, nor begged for mercy.

It wasn't new to her. The girls pick up on their prey, bullying them for months. If they got tired, they simply changed their prey, and if someone complained to the principal, it went in vain as the school cared more about their reputation than the students who suffered.

Riya Sinha was the daughter of a trustee, and the school gained a huge amount of funding from her mother. So it was obvious that no one wanted to get into trouble for upsetting a woman who adored her daughter.

Frustrated, Trisha grabbed Radha's hair, making her look up. "Come on, say something!" she hissed. "You think you are better than us? Everyone knows your truth, bi***h. At least save yourself from humiliation and beg."

Radha blinked away the tears but kept her silence.

Sneha raised her fist to deliver yet another blow but stopped as the bell rang. Riya picked up a book from the ground. She stared right into Radha's eyes, dead, and tore the book in half.

"Next time when we ask you to do something, you'll remember this as your lesson." She threw the book at Radha's face.

The girls turned on their heels and walked away with satisfied expressions creeping across their faces, their high-end perfumes lingering cruelly in the dusty air.

Radha stayed there for a long time, sitting on the cold ground before she started gathering the torn pages of the notebook one by one, her eyes dry as the tears drained from them. She didn't cry; well, she never did!

Her mother had always warned her to stay away from trouble, to keep her head down, to never bring school matters at home except for studies. Her father hated getting calls from school, big or small. It didn't matter; every complaint became her fault, and every mistake turned into long lectures and consequences that lasted for weeks.

The teachers knew it too, and they thrived on the power to see her shrink under their words, to watch the fear flicker in her eyes before they dialed her father's number. They loved finding reasons to remind her that she was less, that she would never be enough.

So, in the end, Radha just stopped fighting. She learned to take things quietly, the humiliation from teachers, the taunts from her seniors, or the whispers behind her back. Every insult, every shove, every glance, she learned to hide it all beneath her sleeves and silence.

It was easier that way, wasn't it? If she didn't speak, they couldn't twist her words. If she didn't resist, they couldn't call it attitude and simply find someone else. If she didn't cry, they couldn't see how much she was hurt or scared.

Radha sat there, surrounded by torn pages and dust, her uniform stained, her hair in disarray, yet she gathered everything; either the items or herself. Because that's what she did best: gathering what was left and pretending that everything was fine!

✨✨✨

The classroom was silent except for the scratching of pens and the occasional sound of paper rustling. The air was tense as students sat in their respective seats, taking their math test, one of those weekly assessments that had become routine in their school.

Adding to the weight on them was Professor Rao, who was the incharge and also their mathematics professor. A man in his late fifties, tall and thin, with silver hair always so neatly combed back, his sharp eyes scanned every student like a hawk circling its prey. The soft thud of his shoes against the tiled floor echoed through the classroom as he moved between the desks, arms clasped behind his back.

Radha's shoe tapped against the floor without making any noise as she solved the equations methodically, biting her lips in concentration. The pain in her stomach made itself known; the blows that were delivered earlier were harder than what she was used to. But she didn't have the luxury to care about them. Her exam was more important. Lost in her daze, she had already come in a few minutes late, but luckily the professor had allowed her to enter instead of having her stand outside.

Everything that happened wouldn't have even happened if Abhi had been there with her today. The girls stayed clear of her when her brother was around; no one dared to pass comments or even look her way when her Abhi walked beside her. That was the charm as well as the fear her brother had instilled.

Well, he knew how to stand up for himself, unlike her, who was ready to cry like a cat drenched in rain. Even though she herself wanted to avoid coming to school, she knew she had no choice in that as it was her test, and being at home without her brothers around was like being in a prison itself. So, she chose school unfortunately, things didn't go well there, either.

Her thoughts trailed off as she felt it, the prickling sensation at the back of her neck. The feeling of being watched. She looked up, startled.

Professor Rao was standing right beside her desk, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

"What is all this, Radhika?" He barked suddenly, his deep voice slicing through the silence.

Radha rose to her feet. "S—sir," she stammered, confusion fogging her tone.

Professor Rao stared at the floor wordlessly.

Radha followed his gaze and froze. Right under her desk, half-hidden by her school bag, were a few crumpled chits. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't seen them before.

Before she could move to pick them up, Professor Rao bent down and picked them up himself. The class went still; every pen stopped writing, and heads turned to give full attention to the ongoing scene.

Rao straightened up and opened the chits. His eyes blazed with anger as he read the formulas written on the papers he held. They were related to the same topic the questions were about.

"So this is how you score marks now, Radhika?" His tone laced with accusation and disgust.

"I--I didn't write those, sir," Radha managed to whisper, her eyes fixed on the chits in the professor's hand in disbelief.

"Enough with the lies," Rao snapped. "You think I was born yesterday? I saw them under your desk. No one else."

Radha shook her head vigorously. "No... sir, please, they're no—not mine. Someone must have...."

"Don't you dare make excuses for cheating," He interrupted, sternly. "I have been teaching for thirty years, and I know how students like you try to cover up their tricks. This is not something acceptable to me from my students."

Radha felt her cheeks burn. She could feel each and every eye staring at her. She felt choked up against a sob that threatened to escape. Her fingers fidgeted with each nervously.

"S-sir, please." She tried again, her voice trembling. "Y--you can check the handwriting... It's not mine. I swear. I—I didn't write...."

"You're arguing instead of accepting your fault?" Rao's face hardened. "How dare you talk back to me when you have been caught red-handed?"

Radha's eyes welled up, but she kept them at bay, not wanting to cry in front of everyone.

"I—I didn't...." Before she could complete her sentence, Rao snatched the answer sheet away from her desk.

"You deserve to sit in my class," his voice thundered. "Get out!"

The class snickered; a few muffled their chuckles, while others whispered.

Radha looked at him, stunned. "S—sir, please...."

"I said get out!" Rao interrupted, pointing at the door. "Before I mark you absent from all the upcoming exams of mine and fail you for the test."

Radha quickly gathered her bag; her fingers trembled, barely able to zip it up. The room started to blur around her as she began to walk out toward the door, blinking rapidly, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall.

"Cheater!" someone muttered under their breath.

Radha's pace quickened; she did not look back as she walked out of the classroom. Her breath came out in sharp gasps. Her feet guided her aimlessly, searching for an escape from the chaos that seemed too familiar for her liking.

The corridor stretched endlessly as she passed through different sections and classes. Their murmurs played in the background. Her hand pressed against her chest, trying to steady the rushing panic that clawed at her lungs.

Instinctively, she pushed open the washroom door and stumbled inside. The mirror caught her disheveled reflection: pale face, trembling hands, and eyes wide with fear.

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink tightly, tightening her knuckles until they turned white. Her breath hitched, too fast, too shallow, as her thoughts spiraled out of control...

The professor would call her home. He would complain. Her Badi Maa and Bade Papa would be furious.

Her chest heaved.

They wouldn't believe her. No one ever did. Same taunts, same words, same threats...

Finally, hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She gasped for air again, clinging to the sink, trying to keep herself upright.

"Your teacher called me, telling me you were disturbing the class." Payal's voice echoed in her ears. "Why can't you do one thing right, Radhika? Do you enjoy humiliating us like this?"

The memory hit her harder, no matter how much she wished to avoid it, yet her mind dragged her down there.

"I work hard day and night to make sure you have everything. And is this how you repay me? Bringing shame to your parents' name over some silly school drama of yours?" Her father's sharp voice echoed in her ears.

"I—I didn't—" Before she could complete, a slap landed across her face.

"Don't you dare argue with us," Payal almost yelled. "I am not raising you for this. First, you get in trouble and then try to talk back to your parents. What will people think about our upbringing? Have you ever thought of that?"

"Maine kuch nahi kiya, maa. (I didn't do anything wrong, maa)" Radhika pleaded helplessly.

"You and your lies, I have had enough of them," Raghav snapped. "One more call, Radhika, and I will send you away to boarding school."

"They will at least make her learn some manners," Payal glared her down. "If you want attention, tell me, and I will give you one. Kuch ghante bhar chhat par khadi rahegi garam dhoop mein, (Stand up on the roof in the hot sun for a few hours) you will realize what we are giving you and how you are throwing it away. Start to concentrate on your studies instead of focusing on some rubbish. This is your last warning; iske baad mujhse bura tere koi nahi hoga. (after this, no one will be worst on you than me.)"

That memory now bled into the present, and her breathing became ragged.

It’ll happen again, her mind whispered. Everything will happen again; this time it will be more cruel. She knew that.

"What will happen of this girl?" Her mother’s voice replayed in her head, followed by her father's words.
"You always bring shame." 
"You're such a disappointment."
"Your brother never does this."
"You ruin everything."

The words piled over each other until they became noise, suffocating, relentless, unbearable. Her chest ached, her vision swam, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. She wanted to scream; she wanted to disappear. But all she could do was grip the sink tighter, silently gasping for air, tears sliding down her cheeks, the same old storm repeating itself in her mind. Nothing can be worse than this; she just wants to end this forever!

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