Fated To Love You

Chapter 106

Abhishek moved toward the rest of the boys, his presence radiating authority and silent menace. Without a word or any hesitation, his hand came down sharply, slapping each boy once. The impact was enough—faces contorted in pain, eyes watering, and a few stumbled slightly from the force. Even a single slap had already worsened their condition.

"Ek hi thappad mein halat kharab ho gayi sabki? Agar abhi bhi zubaan na khuli... to next round mein 2-2 padenge," he said sternly, voice low but carrying a weight that made the boys freeze in place. "Sirf 3 second hai tum sab ke paas."

He crossed his arms, the room falling silent in tense anticipation, then slowly counted aloud, "1... 2... 3..." His gaze was sharp, cutting through their terrified faces. "Fine... jab muh nahi kholna to..." Without further warning, he grabbed the ear of the first boy in the row again, raising his arm threateningly.

"Sir... inn teeno ne bola tha!" The boys pointed frantically at three classmates, voices trembling, eyes wide with fear.

The slap landed with a sickening crack, harder than the previous one, sending the boy staggering back. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a muffled cry of pain, tears immediately welling up.

Abhishek's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He picked up the stick, the metallic sheen catching the fluorescent light, and turned his gaze to the rest of the boys. "Iska matlab tum logo ko pehle se hi pata tha," he said sharply, his voice a knife cutting through their panic.

One by one, he brought the stick down on their palms. Cries of pain filled the room, mingling with whimpers and stifled sobs. Fingers curled, bodies tensed, and some boys rocked slightly from the sting, faces twisted in agony.

The girls shrank in their seats, hands clutched to their chests. Eyes wide with terror, they whispered silent prayers, hoping desperately that Abhishek's anger would never turn toward them. A few covered their mouths, stifling gasps, hearts hammering in their chests as they watched the chaotic scene unfold.

The classroom had transformed into a tense storm of fear, pain, and helplessness. Every slap, every scream, every tear added to the suffocating weight of Abhishek's presence—making it clear that no one would dare disobey him again.

Abhishek clicked his fingers sharply at the three boys. "You 3, out of the desk... go to the front."

The three boys, already pale from the earlier slaps, hesitated for a moment before tremblingly shuffling forward. Their legs felt heavy, and each step was hesitant, as if their knees might buckle at any moment. Tears streaked their faces, and they rubbed their arms instinctively, still reeling from the pain.

"Stop rubbing arms and stop crying!" Abhishek's voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and commanding. The rest of the boys froze instantly, faces pale, eyes wide, and trembling slightly.

"Raise your hands now."

In unison, the boys lifted their arms, some trembling so violently that their hands shook. They tried desperately to suppress sobs, lips pressed tightly together, shoulders tense, while their hearts hammered in their chests.

Abhishek began walking toward the front, each step deliberate and measured. The sound of his shoes on the floor echoed ominously, and the tension in the room ratcheted up with every move. The three boys in front stumbled backward with each step he took toward them, eyes wide, backs stiff, and breaths shallow.

Finally, he reached one of them, grabbed his arm firmly, and slapped him twice in one swift, brutal motion. The boy staggered, nearly collapsing, eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling, and a muffled whimper escaping him.

Abhishek's gaze swept across the rest of the class, his voice dropping into a cold, serious tone. "Jagha se hile bhi na... to uske baad jo bhi hoga, uski zimmedari tum logo ki khud ki hogi."