The sun felt too hot that day.
The short break had just started, and I slipped out to the canteen—alone, craving a burger and five minutes of peace. The school ground was half-empty, wind carrying bits of laughter and cricket shouts from far away.
I didn't even notice the three boys from Class 12 leaning near the corner fence until one of them called out.
"Hey, Class 11 girl—Pragati, right?"
I froze mid-step. My name in a stranger's mouth always sounded wrong.
"Where you running off to? Come talk to us."
I kept walking. Fast. Eyes on the ground.
Then someone caught my bag strap and yanked it.
The sudden pull nearly made me lose balance, my heart jumping to my throat.
"You think you're too good for us, huh?"
"At least look at me when I'm talking."
Their laughter echoed, sharp and ugly. My hands trembled as I tried to pull my bag free, but one of them held tighter, grinning like it was a game.
"Just say yes. Be my girlfriend for a week. Promise I'll treat you well."
My chest tightened. My throat burned.
The words wouldn't come out.
"Leave me," I whispered, voice barely there.
He tugged harder. My bag strap slipped off my shoulder. My eyes stung; I blinked fast, refusing to cry—but fear has a way of finding the cracks. A small sob escaped anyway.
"Aww, look, she's scared," one of them mocked.
I turned away, hugging my bag close, trying to breathe. The world blurred—half sunlight, half tears.
Meanwhile, in class—
The room was normal. The teacher writing on the board. Ruhan sitting there, tapping his pen against the desk, restless. He'd noticed I wasn't back yet.
Then one boy from Class 11-B burst in, breathless.
"Sir! There's trouble near the canteen—those Class 12 guys are bothering Pragati!"
The teacher froze. So did Ruhan.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then his chair scraped the floor—loud, sharp.
Before anyone could stop him, Ruhan was already gone.
He reached the ground within seconds.
And when he saw it—the way those seniors had me cornered, the fear I tried to hide—something in him just snapped.
"Let her go," he said, voice low but deadly calm.
They turned, smirking.
"And who are you? Her hero?"
Ruhan's jaw clenched.
"No. But I'm the one who's going to break your nose if you don't move."
One of them laughed, but it ended when Ruhan's fist connected with his face.
The rest of it was chaos.
Shouts.
Punches.
The teacher yelling from a distance.
By the time it ended, the seniors were bleeding pride—and Ruhan was standing between me and them, chest rising and falling hard.
"You okay?" he asked, voice still rough.
I nodded, still stunned.
"You didn't have to—"
"Yeah," he cut me off. "But I wanted to."
He didn't wait for thanks. Just walked back toward the building, shoulders tense, knuckles bleeding.
And I stood there, staring at his back—realizing he didn't even know what he'd just done.
He didn't fight for me.
He fought because of me
Meanwhile, in class—
By the time I came back inside, the whispers had already started.
"Ruhan fought with Class 12."
"For her, right? That Pragati girl?"
I wanted to disappear.
When I reached class, he was there—hair messy, shirt untucked, lip bleeding just a little. The teacher's voice cut through the air.
"Ruhan! Do you realize what you've done? Fighting on school grounds?"
He said nothing.
Just stood there—calm, breathing hard, eyes cold like he'd already accepted whatever came next.
Then the Class 12 boys walked in, pretending like they were the victims.
The teacher's glare bounced between them.
"All of you—to the principal's office."
That's when something in me snapped.
Before I even knew it, I spoke.
"Ma'am, please—it wasn't his fault."
Every head turned. My throat went dry but I kept going.
"They were bothering me. He was just—trying to help."
The teacher frowned. "Pragati, this isn't your matter now—"
"It is!" I said, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked, but I didn't care.
"They were the ones at fault, not him."
The Class 12 boys shifted uncomfortably. A few classmates whispered.
For a moment, even the teacher went quiet.
Ruhan finally looked up at me. Just one glance.
No words.
But that look… it said stop before you get in trouble too.
And yet I didn't.
Because I couldn't watch him take the blame for something he did for me.
The teacher sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Enough. We'll see what the principal decides."
Ruhan's voice came low then, quiet but steady.
"It's fine, ma'am. I'll take it."
My heart sank.
Ruhan didn't even try to defend himself—he just took the fall, like it meant nothing. His sleeve brushed against mine again—warm, rough, trembling just a little.
I wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in my throat. The classroom felt too loud, too small, too full of eyes that weren't really seeing me.
And yet… somewhere deep down, I knew this wasn't over.
Not the fight. Not him. Not us.
Because when someone fights for you without asking for thanks… the world has a way of making you notice.
And I had noticed.
The bell rang. Everyone left. But my heart stayed behind, pounding like it knew something was coming. Something I couldn't yet name.
And maybe, just maybe… I wasn't ready for what was next.
—to be continued…
🖤 by Pragati Priya (pen name: Zoey)
© Zoey_8087 — My story, my words. Reposts and copies? Not allowed.