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The grand conference room of Rosewood Elite School was a warzone of whispers. Reporters jostled with their tripods and camera flashes lit up the air like lightning in a storm. At the helm of this brewing tension stood the school's owner—ABHIYUDIT RAJVANSH—his aura enigmatic, his expression as calm and impenetrable as a locked vault. Beside him, the ever-dominant ABHISHEK AGNIHOTRI sat with his signature cold stare, sharp enough to silence the room without uttering a word.
The power table was complete with Principal RANVIJAY MALHOTRA, Vice Principal MEERA JOHN, and other board members—all seated in quiet authority. The air reeked of power, fear, and something darker.
Abhiyudit adjusted his cufflinks and stepped toward the podium. Clearing his throat, he began
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will definitely take strong action on the missing case."
His voice was low, firm, and it hung in the air like a blade mid-strike.
A ripple of curiosity spread across the room. Pens clicked. Eyes sharpened.
A reporter dared, "Abhishek sir, your sons and niece study here... aren't you scared for their safety?"
Abhishek leaned forward, a sly smile touching his lips.
"Are you a father or by any chance, an uncle?"
The journalist blinked, confused. "S-sorry?"
"So you're not." Abhishek's voice dropped an octave, iron sharp. "Let me tell you one thing. I'm not that kind of father or uncle who lets his children run away from problems. I'm the one who teaches them to become problems for others."
He leaned back, voice unwavering. "Main unka khayal rakhta hoon... aur main yeh sach mein kehta hoon."
(I care for them... and I mean it.)
On the other end of the school, in a quiet classroom, Shanaya watched the live conference on her phone. "Mama sa..." she whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away.
Beside her, Prakriti and Ishika watched intently, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.
Back in the conference, a journalist dared to cross a line. "Sir, is it true your relationship with Ruhaan isn't good because of—"
He didn't finish.
Abhishek's eyes darkened, his clenched fists thudding lightly on the desk. Everyone felt the shift.
The journalist's throat went dry. He knew one wrong word and he wouldn't just lose his job. He might lose everything.
Everyone knew: say one more word, and you might lose your job, your house, your name… your life.
Abhishek Agnihotri didn't argue. He ended things.
Another voice interrupted, asking Abhiyudit, "Mr. Rajvansh, who should be blamed—the school security or the police?"
Abhiyudit's gaze moved slowly to the camera.
"I think everyone is doing their best. Yeh waqt dosh dene ka nahi, madad karne ka hai."
(This isn't the time to blame, but to help.)
But the peace didn't last.
"What if she's never found? What about the suicides in the school?"
Abhiyudit's voice dropped again
"We will do our best. Nothing less, nothing more. Emotional health has worsened due to pressure and society's hypocrisy. We gave compensations to their families. That's all we could do."
Gasps echoed.
"Sir, a student was suspended from Rosewood. Is that true?"
Ranvijay smirked, "Finally! You guys noticed something normal. What's a school where no student has ever been suspended, huh?"
Laughter rippled.
"But why the suspension now? In 20 years, nothing like this ever happened."
Abhiyudit opened his mouth, but Abhishek interrupted.
"I would like to say something to that student—Reflect on your mistakes, and pray they're not repeated."
A/N: A gentle reminder: If this chapter gave you chills, please vote and comment. Your support truly motivates. Apke likes aur comments se hi yeh kahani zinda rahegi!
Another question hit like a bullet
"Mr. Malhotra, your granddaughter has replaced the previous assistant. Is she capable? Or did Aditya have... ulterior motives?"
Abhishek's eyes flared. A deathly silence fell.
Ranvijay stepped in calmly.
"Aditya is a brilliant student. And the son of a man I deeply respect," he gestured to Abhishek. "If he saw something in her, that's enough for me."
"Of course," Abhishek echoed coldly. "We just want our children's development. Nothing more."
But chaos had ignited.
"Who'll be the Student of the Year?"
Abhishek's voice boomed
"Kaun takkar le sakta hai mere bete se? Woh AGNIHOTRI ka waris hai!"
(Who can compete with my son? He's the heir of the Agnihotris!)
But then...
A chilling question:
"Don't you think suicides occurring only before sunrise hint toward something darker—like murder?"
Silence.
For the first time, even Abhishek looked away. Even Ranvijay said nothing.
Then—
Abhiyudit spoke
"The girl made a mistake. If she'd followed protocols, she'd be home—"
Abhishek raised a finger.
"I think we've heard enough, right Abhiyudit?"
He smiled.
Not kindly.
A smile that held storms behind calm seas. The kind of smile that warned... the game has just begun.
Abhiyudit said nothing. He simply rose, graceful and unbothered, signaling the end of the press conference. The rest followed like shadows.
The conference ended. The air thick with unanswered questions. The media howled for more, but the lords of the hall had already vanished.
Back at Rosewood Elite School
Shanaya stood frozen in Ishika's classroom, her eyes misted with years of bottled pain and fragile hope.
"Bestie… tumhara husband ne mujhe yaad kiya," she whispered, voice trembling.
"Mama sa ne mujhe bhoolaa nahi."
("Bestie… your husband remembered me. Mama sa hasn't forgotten me.")
Ishika still hadn't recovered from the shock.
"My sister—the ultimate rebel—is now Aditya's assistant?! The same guy I've idolized since like forever?!"
But Prakriti—her rage was volcanic.
Her jaw clenched. Her nostrils flared. Her entire aura screamed war.
"WHAT. THE. FUCKING. GAME. HE. PLAYED?"
She roared, voice slicing through the walls.
"KYA KUTTA HAI YE LADKA!"
("WHAT A DOG HE IS!")
Everyone in class fell silent. Nobody dared speak when Prakriti Malhotra was in this mood.
Because when Prakriti Malhotra lost her temper—she didn't break things.
She broke people.
"WHERE IS HE RIGHT NOW?" she demanded.
Ishika gulped. "Maybe… student council meeting room. The meeting's today s—"
"I'M GOING THERE."
No room for argument. Not even a whisper of hesitation.
Ishika dramatically placed her palm on her forehead.
"Aree, bechara Aditya… aaj toh gaya!"
("Oh dear, poor Aditya… he's doomed today!")
But Shanaya?
She was sweating bullets.
Because she knew—deep down—that Prakriti Malhotra wasn't just dramatic.
She was fire in a storm. A girl who danced on the line between passion and recklessness.
And Aditya?
He was about to meet both.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Chapter Title: "Second Encounter: Flames & Frost"
Their second meet isn't a conversation—
it's war in a locked room.
Secretary vs President.
Prakriti vs Aditya.
Only one walks out unaffected.