𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒
What happens when
𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐀 - the girl who mastered the art of being unseen,
stitched together with silence and scar tissue,
haunted by the ruins of love and friendsh...
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The announcement for the inter-batch basketball championship echoed across the school grounds, stirring a rush of excitement and competitiveness.
Students flooded the sidelines, chatter growing louder, phones already recording, the sun casting a golden sheen on the polished court.
But away from the noise, Evyaan stood motionless, one foot balanced on the edge of the court, his gaze fixed far beyond the game.
His arms were folded, face unreadable—except for the faint crease between his brows that betrayed the storm quietly brewing behind his eyes.
"Dumbo, you're in, right?" Aakib's voice cut through the noise, playful but direct, grabbing Evyaan by the sleeve and tugging him toward the court.
Evyaan followed, mechanically, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. His sharp eyes weren't watching the ball or his teammates warming up.
They were trailing someone—or something—in the distance.
And then the laughter started.
Too loud, too mocking. A pack of boys near the water stands burst into cackles, led, of course, by Laksh. His voice was unmistakable—smooth with arrogance, sharp with cruelty.
"Bro, she gets all shaken up and fragile the moment the crowd arrives," Laksh snorted, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. "As if it's not a crowd but a pack of sharks about to eat her. She looks hilarious."
He turned his head slowly, eyes locking on Laksh, and just like that, the lazy disinterest melted.
His jaw clenched, the cords in his neck tightening. The rage wasn't loud.
It was quiet. Dangerous.
Unbeknownst to Laksh, Samayara was standing not far away.
She was within earshot—barely a few feet away—but lost in conversation, blissfully unaware of the words just thrown like knives behind her back.
Evyaan, however, wasn't.
Laksh's laughter rang out again, echoing too loudly.
And then—impact.
A sharp gasp ripped through the onlookers as Laksh dropped to the ground with a pained yell, clutching his face. Blood was already pouring from his nose.
Silence slammed over the court like a lid snapping shut.
Evyaan stood at the three-point line, hand loose at his side from where he'd just released the ball. His face was eerily calm as he walked forward and retrieved it.
"Oh, did I just interrupt your fun time?" he said, voice like ice snapping in winter. A faint smile twisted on his lips—cool, calculated, and completely remorseless.
