Chapter 4: The Real Exchange

In the exam room, I tuned out the world. The clock ticked, the invigilator dozed, ink and chalk dust stung my nose.

When the bell rang, I clicked my pen shut, almost like a soldier sheathing their sword after a final battle.

Meanwhile, the WhatsApp barrage buzzed:

[Ananya is chilling, yaar, sleeping through the exam! Drooled a little—so cute!]

[Face-slap moment coming when marks get swapped!]

[But wait—supporting character looked so serious... Maybe she’s not slacking off after all?]

Looks like Ananya didn’t take my advice. But I never planned for her to get another way out.

Afterwards, Mrs. Iyer in her silk saree and jasmine gajra called a score prediction session for the class.

Ananya announced, “Seven-ten.”

Everyone gasped, a pen clattered to the floor.

“So high? You’ve never crossed 670!” Mrs. Iyer blinked, half-proud, half-shocked.

Ananya arched an eyebrow at me and smiled.

“I did exceptionally well this time.”

Then she fixed the spotlight on me, TV vamp style:

“What about number two? Ritika, your estimate?”

I answered calmly, “About the same as you.”

Ananya and her crew burst into giggles, hands with mehendi hiding their mouths.

“Same as me? You’ve never caught up in monthly tests, now 710?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

Her smirk was pure challenge.

She shot me a look:

“If so, state topper is in our class! My papa will call the news channels, and when results come, we’ll do a live broadcast. Ritika, you don’t mind, right?”

Not only do I not mind—

It’s exactly what I want.

Because I know, the day the results come out—

Is the same day Kamala Devi plans to have me recognised by my real parents.