In the bustling cafeteria, the social hierarchy is on full display. Danish and his friends occupy the best table, closest to the serving area, with a clear view of everyone entering and exiting.Danish leans back in his chair, casually scanning the crowd.
A student walks by, carrying a tray of food. Rohit, another rich kid, sits nearby and watches the student with a mischievous smile. "Watch this," he whispers to Danish, sticking out his foot. The student trips, and his tray goes flying, food scattering everywhere.
The room erupts in laughter, Danish's group leading the charge. "Nice one, Rohit!" Surendra calls out, clapping him on the back.
The cafeteria staff, though sympathetic, do nothing. They exchange worried glances but know that intervening could mean trouble for them. The scholarship student, cheeks burning with humiliation, quickly gathers his things and leaves, the laughter of the elite group ringing in his ears.
Ranveer shakes his head, still chuckling. "When will they learn to watch where they're going?"
Pranav nods, his expression smug. "Probably never. It's almost too easy."
The other students, seeing this, make a point to avoid walking too close to the group, the fear of becoming the next target palpable in the air. They whisper among themselves, casting wary glances at Danish and his friends.
As the laughter dies down, Danish turns to his friends, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Let that be a lesson to everyone," he says. "We run this place, and it's about time they remember that."
Surendra raises his drink in a mock toast. "To us, the kings of the campus."
"To us," the others echo, their voices filled with arrogance.
...
Banhi sat on her bed, her eyes puffy from crying. Dhriti sat beside her, holding her hand. The doorbell rang, and Banhi's heart skipped a beat. Dhriti opened the door to reveal Mohit, Anala, and Meeta, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.
Mohit and Anala are brother and sister who live right next door. While Meeta lived upstairs and was the same age as Mohit, 25.
"Banhi, what happened? Tell us," Mohit said, sitting down on the bed beside her.
Banhi took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "Danish touched me in the changing room. He was trying to... assault me."
Meeta gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God, Banhi! Nothing serious happened to you, right? You should stay away from him."
"Stay away?" Mohit exclaimed, his eyes blazing with anger. "If he did this with some other girl or something even worse happened, we should go to the police."
Anala frowned, her arms crossed. "Yes, Mohit is right. Danish needs to be taught a lesson."
Meeta shook her head. "But what can the police do? Danish has power and money. He'll buy everyone out."
They argued for a bit, their voices overlapping in concern and frustration. Finally, Mohit raised his hand, silencing them.
"Listen, we need evidence," he said firmly. "We'll check the college CCTV footage. There should be cameras in the hallways and canteen."
Banhi sighed, wiping her tears. "But there aren't cameras in the changing room."
"Of course not, Banhi," Mohit told her, his expression determined. "When he forcefully kissed you and his friends locked you in, there should be footage of that."
Dhriti nodded, squeezing Banhi's hand. "Yes, Banhi. This is a chance to expose Danish."
.
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YOU ARE READING
Falling Into Oblivion
RomanceFully in English now In the changing room, Danish cornered Banhi, pulling her dupatta off her chest & hung it around his neck as she crossed her arms over her chest. He smirked, his eyes raking over her with a predatory gleam. "Ab yeh suit utar do...