...The art of falling in love...( Abhira❤️Armaan)

6.

The next day felt heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. AARRC, sat gathered in their usual hangout spot, their concern for Armaan palpable.

Aryan glancing at the clock every few minutes. “I think Armaan is very angry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. “He hasn’t spoken to any of us since yesterday.”

Charu, sitting cross-legged on the bench fiddled with her phone. “chill Roohi is here; she can handle him :he just needs some time.

Rohit, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, chimed in with a worried expression, “We took a wrong step, guys. He clearly said not to get involved with Abhira, and we pulled that prank in front of everyone. How could we let things get out of hand like this?”It’s not easy to face the consequences of our prank.”

“Oh c’mon, Rohit!” Roohi said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not the first time we’ve done something like this. We’ve played pranks on girls before with no issues. It’s all in good fun!”

Just then, Armaan burst into the room, his presence charged with an unsettling energy. The air shifted as he entered, The rest of the group braced themselves as their friend approached.

They gathered around him, concern etched onto their faces. “We’re sorry, Armaan. We know we should have told you,” Aryan said, his voice low.

Armaan shrugged them off, his eyes ablaze with anger. “Sorry for what?” he spat. “Sorry for not telling me what you did to Abhira?” His voice cracked with frustration, fixing his glare on Roohi, who looked suddenly small and guilty. “You’re sorry you didn’t tell me? That’s not enough!”

“How can you all forget the rule of our group?” Armaan continued, his voice rising. “We agreed to not bother anyone in front of others. Yet you all thought it would be funny to prank her in a crowd.”

Roohi, desperate to defend herself, stepped forward. “We’re sorry that we didn’t tell you, but please, Armaan, let me and Charu handle Abhira. We can—”

“Shut up, Roohi!” Armaan snapped, cutting her off. “I’ll handle her myself. Stay out of it.”

“Armaan, you don’t have to talk to her like that,” Rohit said, trying to intervene. Aryan and Charu nodded in agreement, their expressions mixed with concern and surprise.

In an impulsive surge of frustration, Armaan spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving his friends stunned in his wake. The tension that followed his departure felt like a thick fog, swallowing the warmth of camaraderie.

Abhira stepped into the bustling hallways, rushed to their classes, it was like the world paused for a moment , Whispers cascaded through the room like ripples on water, some praising her for her boldness in standing up to Armaan, while others warned her about the consequences of her actions. A group of students leaned in, casting furtive glances her way, their faces a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"You really slapped him!" one girl exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"But you know they won't just let it go, right?" another chimed in, a hint of fear in her voice. "What if they decide to get back at you?"

Abhira clenched her fists, her heart racing. "I’m not scared of them," she snapped, her tone fierce. The bravado in her voice was partly true. She was angry and defiant, but deep down, a tremor of nervousness danced beneath the surface.

Armaan who had been watching the scene unfold, Abhira’s perseverance inspired others to come forward and stand against bullying as well. Together, they created a safe environment at college, and those who once followed Armaan out of fear started to question their loyalty. Abhira had become a lighthouse, guiding others through the fog of confusion and insecurity.

Armaan walked briskly across the campus, his heart pounding with mixed emotions. With each step, he wrestled with his situation with Abhira. To him, Abhira represented a defiance he could not tolerate; she was someone who refused to be intimidated by his status as the “king” of the campus.

Armaan’s mind was set ablaze with memories of the way he had tried to belittle her over the past weeks—mocking her “overly ambitious” academic aspirations, ridiculing what he deemed “flashy” attire. Each dig had been intended to strip her of her confidence, a way for him to reclaim the power he felt slipping through his fingers. But the thought of her standing tall, undeterred by his insults, drove him wild.

Meanwhile, Abhira was trying her best to maintain her composure. After the embarrassing prank, she had chosen to brush aside Armaan’s tries at provocation, focusing instead on her studies. But his relentless, veiled insults had begun to chip away at her confidence. No matter how hard she tried to dismiss his remarks, they stung with a truth she didn’t want to confront.

In this game of power, neither of them knew where the next move would lead—only that they were both irrevocably entwined, for better or for worse.

he approached her during lunch, flanked by his ever-loyal band of followers.

So, how does it feel to play the role of the hero for an audience ? Armaan sneered, the laughter of his friends ringing through the cafeteria.
Abhira met her gaze, her voice steady and calm. “It feels powerful to know that I stand for something real, No matter how hungry for attention you might be, respect and kindness will always matter more.”

Gasps echoed through the crowd, their eyes widening as the air thickened with tension. For the first time, Armaan faltered, surprise flickering across his features. His dominance, which once seemed unshakeable, began to crumble at the edges.

In time, Armaan found himself more isolated, his once-solid grip on the social scene slipping away, while Abhira's circle of friends grew, united in a cause of compassion and strength. Her independence transformed from an affront into a beacon of hope—one where everyone could shine brightly, free from the shadows of cruelty...

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