PART 1:
The principal's office was silent.
Too silent.
Shree stood straight in front of the desk, her bag hanging from one shoulder, her expression unreadable. The chaos of the corridor felt distant now — like it had happened in another world.
Victor Valdan leaned back in his chair, fingers folded.
"So," he said calmly, "you enjoy creating disorder, Miss Malhotra?"
She met his gaze without hesitation.
"No, sir. I enjoy stopping it."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"That's not what the reports say."
"I wasn't fighting," she replied. "I was protecting."
"Protection doesn't usually leave half a corridor shaken."
"Neither does silence when someone is being attacked," she said evenly.
A pause followed.
Victor studied her closely — not as a principal watching a student, but as someone measuring something unfamiliar.
"You're trained," he said.
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since childhood."
Another pause.
"And who taught you?"
She didn't answer immediately. "Someone who believed I should know how to stand on my own."
That answer intrigued him more than she realized.
As she shifted slightly, the collar of her uniform slipped just enough.
Victor's gaze froze.
Just for a moment.
A mark — faint but visible — near the side of her neck.
His eyes narrowed.
Not recognition.
Discomfort.
He looked away quickly.
"You may leave," he said coldly. "But remember — this school does not tolerate violence."
She inclined her head slightly. "Neither do I."
And without another word, she turned and walked out.
The moment the door closed, Victor exhaled slowly.
Something about that girl unsettled him.
Not her strength.
Not her defiance.
Something older.
Something buried.
PART 2:
Outside, the corridor had returned to its usual noise, though something invisible still lingered in the air.
Ryan waited near the staircase. The moment he saw Shree, he straightened.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"I'm fine," she replied.
"You got hit pretty hard."
She shrugged. "I've had worse."
He exhaled slowly, relieved.
From a little distance away, Aryan watched them.
He hadn't meant to — but his eyes followed the way Ryan stood slightly in front of her, instinctively protective.
He stepped closer.
"You're her cousin, right?" Aryan asked.
Ryan nodded. "Yeah."
Aryan studied him for a moment. "You two seem really close."
Ryan gave a faint smile. "She's my family."
There was something firm in his voice — final.
Aryan hesitated before asking, "So… you live together?"
"Yes," Ryan replied. "My uncle took me in when I was young. He raised me."
Aryan looked surprised. "Your uncle?"
Ryan nodded. "My father died when I was small. My uncle adopted me. Shree was already there — she's his daughter."
Aryan absorbed the words silently.
"So she's not—"
"No," Ryan said calmly. "She's his real daughter. I'm the one adopted."
A strange feeling passed through Aryan — relief mixed with something else he didn't want to name.
Their names crossed his mind again.
"Still," he said lightly, "Ryan… Aryan. Sounds almost the same."
Ryan smirked. "Guess fate wasn't very creative."
Aryan almost smiled.
But when his eyes drifted back toward Shree, his chest tightened again — not with confusion this time, but awareness.
She wasn't just strong.
She was someone people protected.
And for reasons he couldn't explain yet —
he wanted to be one of them too.
PART 3:
That evening, long after students had gone home, Victor Valdan sat alone in his office.
The school was quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
He unlocked a hidden drawer beneath his desk.
Inside lay files untouched for years.
He pulled one out slowly.
Hemanta Lahiri — Former Professor.
His eyes scanned the photograph carefully.
The man's posture.
The eyes.
Then — the mark near the collar.
Victor's fingers tightened.
A memory stirred — faint, unwanted.
He leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"Impossible," he muttered.
Yet his mind refused to settle.
Because somewhere in the school —
the past had begun walking again.
And it had a new name now.
Miss Malhotra.
To be continued....