Chapter 2: The Classroom Reckoning

Turns out, I’m the tragic stepping-stone supporting character in a campus novel.

The realization was bitter but freeing—like seeing the truth behind a magician’s trick. I wasn’t the heroine, not in anyone’s eyes but my own.

My main job is to be a blood bank for the underdog hero, and after marriage, to help him in every way without complaint.

Kabir used my experimental data to publish a top-tier paper, which won him the favour of a big shot. After that, he kept using my feelings for him to get help with experiments and paper revisions. I overused my eyes and developed a serious eye disease before I was thirty, but when I got sick, Kabir ignored me and even let my child call Priya ‘mummy.’

In the end, I died of depression, while he and Priya lived happily ever after.

Truly, the dutiful wife helps him rise to success, and I deliver both the wife and the mistress to him.

4.

The next day, as soon as I entered the classroom, Kabir walked straight up to me.

I could hear the scraping of wooden benches, the hum of the ceiling fans, and the slap-slap of chappals on the corridor tiles. The entire classroom paused, waiting to see what would happen—some munching on Parle-G, others pretending to be busy with their notes.

I couldn’t be bothered to look up and kept reading my book, my fingers tightening on the cover as if it could anchor me. My friends exchanged glances, one of them catching my eye with a small, encouraging nod—reminding me I wasn’t alone.

But Kabir seemed a bit anxious.

“Neha, I can forgive what you did yesterday, but you have to apologise to Priya and pay her double the money.”

His words landed like a slap, but this time, I didn’t flinch. The whole class turned, a hush falling, waiting for my reply—like the lull before a monsoon storm.

(Cliffhanger: My lips parted, breath catching in my throat. I wasn’t sure if my voice would shake or shatter, but I knew—this time, I’d speak only for myself.)