Fated To Love You

Chapter 64

"Why are you sorry? Did you call her uncle?" The director's voice carried a mix of irritation and confusion as he leaned forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Sumedh.

Sumedh shook his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation. "No, sir," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry for the scene... I should've called the police instead of reacting like that." He clenched his fists, frustration evident in his every word.

The director exhaled audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, why didn't you?" he asked, his tone edged with exasperation. "This is a college, Sumedh—a place of learning, not some chaotic family drama."

Sumedh's eyes dropped to the floor again, unable to meet the director's piercing gaze. "I know, sir... I know," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I let my emotions take over. I'm sorry. I failed to handle it the right way."

The director sighed deeply, shaking his head. His tone turned pointed and sarcastic. "You said you're not like a married couple. Then tell me, what was that on the ground? She wouldn't hug a teacher like that. Don't lie to me."

Sumedh's head snapped up momentarily, his face flushed with frustration. "That was the second time she hugged me, sir," he explained, his voice steady but thick with emotion. He inhaled sharply, as if trying to gather his thoughts. "The first time was when she... when she tried to end her life." His voice cracked, and he paused, swallowing hard. "She was narrating her story—how she was raped by her uncle. She was completely broken, sir, and I just... I just tried to be there for her."

The director's expression softened for a brief moment, but his stern demeanor returned just as quickly. Sumedh continued, his voice now a mix of desperation and resolve. "Today, she was trembling in fear. She didn't hug me because I'm her teacher or... anything else. It was her trauma speaking. She was terrified, scratching her hand raw where he'd grabbed her. Sir, she's fighting demons no one her age should have to face."

The director rubbed his temples, his weariness evident. His eyes drifted to the desk as he muttered, "Why is this so complicated?" He shook his head, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This won't leave a good impression on the students. And now that everyone saw what happened, she'll be even more vulnerable. The gossip... the questions... she's going to be hounded by it all."

He paused, a sudden thought striking him like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened, and he looked directly at Sumedh. "Wait... you mentioned something about her baby. Are you telling me she's pregnant?" His voice rose, his shock palpable.

Sumedh flinched at the question, his face pale and strained. "Yes, sir," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "She is." He clenched his fists tighter, bracing himself for the storm he knew was coming.

"How is she coping with it? Are you guys not aborting the child? It's not your baby," the director asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, as he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Sumedh straightened slightly, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor. "All decisions about the baby were hers, sir. She's the mother. I didn't say anything to her regarding the baby. It's her choice," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.

The director frowned, leaning forward again. "So, you're fine with having the baby? It's not your baby—won't it be... weird?" he asked, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

Sumedh shook his head firmly, his expression resolute. "Baby ki wajah se hi thoda bahut handle kar paa rahi hai khud ko, sir," he explained, his voice thick with emotion. "Warna shayad kab ka maar chuki hoti." His words hung heavy in the room, the weight of their meaning unmistakable.