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The meeting room buzzed with a low hum of whispers and shifting chairs as students took their seats around the long, polished conference table. The air was cool, but there was an undercurrent of heat—tension that clung to every corner like invisible smoke. At the head of the table sat Aditya Agnihotri, clipboard in hand, his fingers tapping a pen rhythmically against it. Each click was a countdown to order.
On his left, Prakriti Malhotra straightened her posture, eyes sharp, lips curved into the faintest smirk, pen poised between her fingers. She didn't need to speak to command attention—her presence did that well enough.
"Alright, let's get started," Aditya announced, his voice steady, laced with the kind of authority that silenced rooms. "As you all know, Vice President Revita Birla is missing. We need someone capable of taking her place immediately."
A quiet stir moved through the room. Akshit Raichand adjusted his glasses, his gaze flitting briefly to the head of the table—then freezing.
There she was.
Prakriti Malhotra.
As Aditya's secretary.
His brows furrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but the clench in his jaw gave him away. He didn't expect to see her like this. Working beside him. The coldest, most calculating guy in school. Something about the pairing disturbed him deeply, though he kept his face neutral.
Aditya continued, unfazed. "We need someone brilliant. Composed. Someone who can handle both the pressure and responsibility of the Student Council."
Prakriti leaned slightly toward him, voice low but tinged with playfulness. "Two students who'd be perfect for this position are my sister Ishika… and something Adaa… Mitali… Mittal—whatever."
Aditya gave her a slight nod, lips twitching with amusement. Without another word, Prakriti handed him a file. He flipped it open.
Across the table, Vedant Singh Rajput—the bad boy—sat silently, arms folded, a calculating gaze fixed on the duo. He wasn't known for showing up to such meetings, let alone sitting through them quietly. But now, he was here, watching. Not the candidates—them.
physically he's in meeting but mind.....
The tension in the room thickened, as if aware of the past that clung like vines between old friends now facing off with nothing but clipped words and knowing glances.
Aditya's eyes scanned the group. "The two candidates selected for the Vice President role are Ishika Malhotra and Adaa Mittal. The student with the majority of support will take the position."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Ishika's lips, but she masked it behind a calm expression. Her fingers drummed lightly on the table, betraying anticipation.
Then came the disruption.
"I vote for Adaa," Ruhaan Agnihotri declared from the far end of the table, arms crossed, voice as sharp as a blade.
Several students turned at once. The golden boy of charm and chaos had just dropped a spark into dry hay.
"She's experienced. Great with academics, outstanding in extracurriculars—she's the obvious choice."
His tone was deliberate. Calculated. Designed to provoke.
And it worked.
"Since when do you care about the school, Mr. Ruhaan Agnihotri?" Ishika's voice sliced through the air like silk-wrapped steel. She leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing in challenge. "Or are you more interested in who wins?"
Ruhaan smirked. But there was steel beneath it. "I care. Clearly more than some people who think eye-rolls are a leadership trait."
"Oh, please," Ishika scoffed, arms crossing. "Adaa just arrived. She doesn't know this school's dynamics. Maybe if you left your mirror behind, you'd notice that."
"I know Adaa more than yo—" Ruhaan stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flickered with something—recognition, guilt, a buried truth he hadn't meant to surface.
Caught.
Ishika's brows rose. "Exactly. You don't know anything except drama. So keep your endorsements to yourself."
"You're the one dragging this into drama, Miss Malhotra," Ruhaan shot back, fingers tapping the table with lazy menace. "I'm just stating facts."
The air buzzed with electricity. Some students looked away, uncomfortable. Others watched, eyes gleaming like spectators at a battlefield.
Akshit stared between the two—his class president Ruhaan and the fiercely outspoken Ishika. The silent war between them was far from over. Maybe it had never begun properly.
"Enough," Aditya's voice cut clean through the tension. His fingers pressed to his temples. "Ruhaan. Ishika. Unless one of you plans on murdering the other before the new year, can we move on?"
Neither of them responded. Ishika's jaw set like steel. Ruhaan's gaze lingered, amused and defiant.
Aditya looked over the room. His next words were final. "Choose— Ishika or Adaa. Majority rules."
A few of the students, started sweating, their collar suddenly feeling too light
If they choose shivika, it's means going against Aahan which is horrible than arguing with sports sir.
"SPEAK!"
Aditya Agnihotri voice bommed throughout the room commanding attention
The sight edge in Aditya voice was enough to make everyone flinch But one who's more closer to him – prakriti didn't flinch a little instead she was composed, her presence steadying.
A drop of silence.
Then chaos.
"ISHIKA!"
"ADAA!"
"ADAA!"
"ISHIKA!"
"ADAA!"
The names echoed like drumbeats in a storm. Voices overlapping, tensions high.
And then, clarity.
Aditya raised a hand. The room silenced.
"So most of the council supports Adaa. From now on, she will serve as the Vice President." His voice was cold, firm. "Meeting adjourned. Return to your classes."
Murmurs began again as chairs scraped and students stood.
"I'm sorry, Ishika," Aditya said quietly, too soft for most to hear. "You were the better choice."
Ishika turned to him with a faint smile. "It's okay, Aditya. Only a jeweler can recognize a real diamond. The rest are just fools."
Her gaze flicked to Ruhaan, now standing. A silent message passed between them—sharp, dangerous.
Ruhaan raised a brow, said nothing, and left the room without glancing back.
The students watched as Ishika's mask dropped just long enough to reveal a flicker of disappointment, then hardened again.
A rare sight—Aditya Agnihotri, showing sympathy.
As the room cleared, Aditya leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh.
"Good job today," he said, glancing at Prakriti with tired gratitude.
She tucked the papers neatly back into her file. "Same time next week?"
Aditya gave a low laugh. "Unfortunately, yes."
He rose, adjusting his blazer. "I'll talk to Adaa. She needs to be briefed."
And with that, the President left the room, the echo of unfinished rivalries and silent storms lingering behind.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
NEXT CHAPTER SPOILER : BURIED FRIENDSHIP
Vedant crosses paths with someone he once called home—a silent reunion where words are few but memories scream. From his POV, the past claws its way back.