The next day, after the disastrous school meeting, Preeta summoned Karan and his father to her office. The tension in the air was suffocating as they stood before the large wooden door of her cabin. Karan’s heart raced, dreading what was about to happen. His father, Mr. Mehra, stood beside him, his face pale and his jaw clenched with a mixture of shame and anger. The humiliation from the day before still weighed heavily on him, but neither of them had a choice. Preeta controlled everything now.
Karan knocked lightly, and after a brief pause, they heard Preeta’s cold voice from the other side.
“Come in.”
They stepped into the room, the air thick with her authority. Preeta sat behind her desk, her expression calm, but her eyes gleamed with the same cruel satisfaction Karan had seen the day before. She glanced at them as they entered, a slow, deliberate smirk spreading across her face.
“Mr. Mehra, Karan,” she greeted mockingly, her tone dripping with false politeness. “I was expecting you. I think we need to discuss yesterday’s events.”
Mr. Mehra, though clearly uncomfortable, nodded silently. Karan stood next to him, his stomach churning with dread.
Preeta stood up and walked around her desk, moving towards them with a predatory grace. “You didn’t behave very well yesterday, Mr. Mehra,” she began, her voice low and dangerous. “In fact, I think you need to be reminded of your place.”
Mr. Mehra stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I did what you asked,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knelt.”
Preeta’s eyes narrowed, her expression turning icy. “You knelt, yes. But your attitude? Your lack of respect? That was unacceptable. You didn’t greet me properly today. You didn’t show everyone just how inferior you are to me. You still have too much pride, Mr. Mehra. I don’t like that.”
Before anyone could react, Preeta stepped forward and slapped Mr. Mehra across the face—hard. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, sharp and brutal. Mr. Mehra stumbled slightly, but he stayed on his feet, his cheek red from the impact. Karan flinched, his eyes widening in shock.
“Mam, please—” Karan started, but Preeta cut him off with a cold glare.
“Silence, Karan,” she snapped, her voice venomous. “This is between me and this bastard.”
She turned back to Mr. Mehra, her expression a mixture of fury and cold amusement. “You think kneeling once is enough? Do you really believe that’s all it takes to atone for your arrogance? For years, you’ve treated me like I was beneath you. Well, not anymore.”
Without warning, she slapped Mr. Mehra again, harder this time. His head snapped to the side, and Karan could see the pain in his father’s eyes. But Mr. Mehra didn’t move. He stood there, taking the punishment, his pride shattered.
“You didn’t greet me properly,” Preeta hissed, slapping him once more. “You didn’t show everyone how much lower you are than me. You didn’t beg for forgiveness. You think you can still hold onto your pride, don’t you?”
Another slap. Mr. Mehra’s face was now a mottled red, his breathing shallow as he endured the humiliation. Karan stood frozen, torn between wanting to protect his father and knowing that any protest would only make things worse.
“Preeta, please… stop,” Karan pleaded softly, his voice trembling with emotion.
Preeta ignored him, her gaze fixed on Mr. Mehra. “No, Karan. Your father needs to learn his lesson.” She grabbed Mr. Mehra by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until their faces were inches apart. “You will show me the respect I deserve. You will *beg* for my mercy.”