What after That?

Ch 35.

The first day of their final year in school had arrived, signaling the start of an exciting yet daunting chapter for the 12th-year students. 

Ishan, standing in front of the mirror, was in the process of tying his school tie. As he fiddled with the knot, a flash of memories from the chaotic terrace sleepover at Abhi's house the previous weekend surfaced in his mind. 

He chuckled softly, recalling how everyone had been terrified of the horror movie, especially how Shubman had scared him deliberately. Rolling his eyes, Ishan couldn't help but smile at the thought of how mischievous Shubman had been.

He checked his school bag one last time, making sure everything was in order—books, notebooks, stationery, and of course, his LUNCH BOX. 

Satisfied, he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed out. His older brother was already waiting for him outside, sitting on his bike. 

Ishan hopped on the back, ready to make their way to school. The day felt fresh, the air crisp with the anticipation of starting their final year, and despite his thoughts of Shubman's antics, he felt excited.

On the other side , Shubman stood at the doorway of his house, fidgeting slightly as he prepared to leave. He could feel his father's eyes on him, heavy with judgment and impatience. 

His instincts told him that a lecture or some unnecessary drama was coming, and Shubman braced himself. 

His father was notorious for making a scene, especially when it came to Shubman's school life. It was something he never let pass without a comment, and today was no different.

Shubman's mother came from the kitchen, holding out his lunchbox. She smiled warmly, as she always did, trying to inject some calm into the morning. 

Shubman was just about to take the lunchbox when his father, who had been watching quietly, suddenly interjected with a sarcastic comment.

"Haan haan, bhejo, bhejo... Nawab ko lunch bhejo. Sab kuchh haath mein laa ke do! baaki rahenge ye wahi nikkame.. " His voice was dripping with mockery.

Shubman felt his blood boil. He could feel the anger bubbling inside him, ready to spill over. His jaw tightened, and he was on the verge of snapping back. 

The last thing he wanted was to start his final year in school with his father's negativity hanging over him. But just as he was about to respond, his mother placed a gentle hand on his arm and leaned in, whispering quietly.

"Shubi... leave," she urged softly, her eyes pleading with him to avoid confrontation. She knew how quickly things could escalate, and she wanted to save him from further frustration.

Shubman exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes in irritation. Without another word, he took the lunchbox from his mother and stormed out of the house, his father's words still echoing in his mind. 

His mood was perfectly ruined, the excitement of the first day of his final year now clouded with frustration and anger. He hated how his father always managed to ruin things for him.

Shubman pedaled his cycle with swift precision, the cool morning breeze brushing past his face as he neared the school gates. 

As soon as the familiar sight of the school building came into view, he noticed Yashaswi standing by the cycle stand, his hands fiddling with the lock of a new cycle. 

It wasn't the old, slightly rusted one that Yashaswi usually rode—it was brand new, shiny, and still had that fresh-out-of-the-store glow. 

Shubman slowed his pace as he approached, narrowing his eyes with mild suspicion. Something about Yashaswi had been rubbing him the wrong way recently, though he couldn't quite put a finger on why.