Chapter 9: CHAPTER 7

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Reyansh's POV

The clock ticked steadily toward 5 PM, and I sat in my office, the walls lined with dusty books and faded posters of mathematical theorems.

I flicked through a stack of ungraded assignments, but my mind drifted. Just as I was about to drown in thoughts of integrals and equations, my phone pinged.

I glanced at the screen, my stomach twisting into knots when I saw maa’s name flash across it.

“Ansh! Meet Priya. Look at her picture! Dinner at Café Delights at 7 PM. Don’t keep her waiting!”

I sighed, the sound heavy and defeated. The last thing I wanted was to meet some girl my mother had picked out like a dress from the boutique. I hadn’t even seen the picture yet, but I could already tell it wouldn’t matter.

I could practically hear my mother’s voice in my head, urging me to settle down, have kids, and live the traditional life she envisioned.

I glanced at the picture. So this is her. Okay. I had to go. Mom would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t.

After a reluctant drive through the bustling streets, I parked and walked into the restaurant, feeling like I was entering some sort of social experiment gone wrong. The ambiance was lively, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.

I spotted Priya at a corner table, she was dressed in a way that screamed attention, and I wasn’t interested in the kind of attention that came with bright lipstick and revealing clothes.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes. She looked up as I approached, and I forced a smile, though it felt as fake as the plastic flowers on the table.

She raised an eyebrow, started convo, clearly unbothered. “So, you’re not into this whole getting-to-know-each-other thing?”

I hesitated, then leaned back, crossing my arms. “Not particularly. My mom—” I started but she cut in.

“Ah, the classic mom setup,” she smirked. “Mine’s doing the same thing. She practically shoved me into this.”

I blinked, surprised. “Wait, you’re not interested in this either?”

“Not at all!” She leaned forward, conspiratorially. “I want to model, travel, experience life. If I get stuck in a marriage, I’d run away before the wedding!”

I grinned, the tension easing a bit. “You and I are on the same page. I’m not looking for marriage either.”

“Thank God,” she said, her relief palpable. “So, what’s the point of this dinner then? For our moms to feel better about themselves?”

“Pretty much,” I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. “At least we can sit here and complain about it.”

“Right!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, I’d rather be in Paris right now, sipping champagne and people-watching. I'll escape tomorrow.”

“Paris sounds better than this,” I admitted, glancing around the restaurant. “So, what’s your escape plan? When will you run away?”

“Tomorrow morning!” she said dramatically, throwing her hands up. “I’ll say I’m going to the gym and then just… poof! Gone! Off to Paris!”

“Just like that?” I raised an eyebrow. “What about your family?”

“Ah, they’ll survive. They’ve survived my ‘I want to be a model’ phase before,” she waved her hand dismissively. “They’ll get over it. What about you? Any escape plans from the family?”

“Not really,” I said, beginning to feel a strange camaraderie with her. “They’re pretty set on me marrying someone. I’m kind of the black sheep in my family, though.”

“Black sheep, huh?” she leaned back in her chair, her expression intrigued. “That must be fun.”

“Fun is one word for it,” I replied dryly. “But it gets exhausting. All I want is to teach math and live my life. Is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” she said, her voice softening. “You should do what makes you happy. I get that.”

“Thanks,” I said, surprised by her sincerity. It felt refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t just trying to impress me or fit into some mold.

As we chatted, the initial awkwardness faded. Still, I could hear my mother’s voice in the back of my head, reminding me that I was supposed to be looking for a future wife, not making a friend.

The clock ticked closer to the hour, I knew reality would come crashing back in. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just a temporary escape, a brief moment of joy before returning to the mundane expectations of life.

When I finally returned home, the familiar weight of my family’s expectations settled back on my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

I walked into the dining room to find maa, dad, and dadu gathered around the table, their eyes all fixed on me, waiting for news.

“So, how did it go with Priya?” maa asked, her voice eager, a smile on her face.

“She’s not interested in marriage either,” I said, crossing my arms defensively. “She wants to model and travel. Just like me.”

My father’s brows furrowed, and my grandfather sighed heavily. “So, what now?”

“Nothing,” I muttered. “We both agree it’s a bad idea. She’ll probably run away to Paris.”

Maa frowned, her excitement deflating. “But you can’t just give up! I’ll find you another girl. Someone perfect for you!”

“Maa,” I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “Can you just let me live my life?”

“Reyansh,” my father interjected firmly, “You need to think about your future. You can’t just be reckless.”

“Reckless?” I shot back, frustration boiling over. “I’m not being reckless. I’m being honest. I don’t want to marry someone just because you think it’s time!”

“You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities,” dadu added, his voice a deep rumble of authority.

I clenched my jaw, feeling trapped in a whirlwind of expectations. “I’m not running away. I’m trying to figure out what I want. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

Silence enveloped the room, tension heavy in the air. Maa looked hurt, dad disappointed, and dadu remained stoic.

“Maybe because we care about you, Ansh,” maa finally said, her voice softer now. “We want you to be happy, but we also want you to have a future.”

“I get that,” I said, my voice firmer, “but my happiness matters too. I don’t want to live my life for anyone else.”

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving the weight of their expectations behind me momentarily. I needed to breathe, to think, to reclaim my freedom.

As I settled into bed that night, I heard my phone pinged. I blinked at the screen, squinting against the dim light.

A message from one of my students, asking me to check Noor’s latest Instagram story. Confused, I rubbed my eyes. With a sigh of resignation, I opened the app.

I ofcourse made a fake account because I don't want her to think that I stalk her.

The loading symbol spun for a moment, as I searched for her account. I found her account,it was public with over 15k followers. She was cute in her profile picture.

Cute?? Arghhh. She can't be.

I clicked on on her profile picture to see her story which showed that it had been uploaded 15 minutes ago. But what I saw in his story made my eyes turn red with anger.

I felt the heat rise in my chest. “What the hell?” I muttered, staring at the screen. I could almost hear her laughter echoing in my mind, that carefree sound that always seemed to mock the world.

But, how dare she?

Noor's POV

The scent of garlic and herbs wafted through the air as I twirled a forkful of cheesy pasta, savoring the rich flavors.

Arushi sat across from me, her laughter bubbling up like the water in the pot we’d used to cook. The flickering light from the TV cast playful shadows around the cozy living room, making it feel almost like a scene from a movie itself.

“Did you see that part when the guy slipped on the banana peel?” she giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Classic!”

“Totally! I didn’t expect that at all,” I replied, chuckling as I took another bite. “I mean, who doesn’t pay attention to where they’re walking?”

Just then, Arushi’s phone pinged with a notification. She paused mid-laugh, a frown creasing her forehead. “Hold on, let me check this.” She reached for her phone, her fingers dancing over the screen.

“Hey, is your phone charging? How did you post a story without it being on?”

Confusion washed over me. “What? I haven’t posted anything.” I leaned closer, peering at her screen.

My heart dropped when I saw the headline under the image of Crocodile .

“Maths professor with his one night stand,” the caption read, accompanied by a picture of him, smirking, across from a girl in a scandalously low-cut dress.

“What the hell?!” I gasped, the fork clattering onto my plate. “How—why would he even be at a place like that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. This is insane!” Arushi exclaimed, her mouth agape. “What if he finds out? How did this even happen?”

“Wait, let me check my account.” I scrambled for my phone, my heart pounding louder than the laughter from the movie.

I opened Instagram, but instead of my familiar feed, I was met with a log-in screen. Panic surged through me.

“No, no, no! It’s logged out! I can’t remember the last time I logged out!”

Arushi leaned in, her eyes wide. “What do you mean? Can you recover it?”

I clicked on the ‘Forgot Password?’ link, my fingers trembling. “Trying, but… oh no. My email is gone! And my number—”

I felt the room spin as I realized my personal information had been changed.

“What if someone hacked my account? What if he sees it? What if…”

“Okay, okay!” Arushi cut in, her voice steadying me. “Let’s think this through. We need to get your account back before he finds out.”

“Yeah, and how do you suggest we do that?” I snapped, the worry gnawing at my insides.

“First, breathe. We’ll figure it out. If someone hacked your account, they might have posted that to get a rise out of you. Let’s see if we can find out what’s going on. Wait, lemme call Aarav. He's at hsi friend's house.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I just… what if it’s too late?”

“He's not reachable." She said furiously.

What if Crocodile saw it before I could explain? He was already known for his arrogance, and this would only feed into his reputation.

Arushi returned with her laptop, her brow furrowed.

“What if it’s someone from our class?” I asked, the anxiety bubbling over. “You know how they love to gossip.”

“Don’t think like that. We need to stay focused.” She clicked around, her eyes darting across the screen. “I’ll report the story. That might help.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “What if Reyansh finds out before we can stop it? He’ll think I did this on purpose, or that I’m some kind of… of…”

“Bimbo?” Arushi suggested, raising an eyebrow.

I shot her a glare. “Not helpful!”

“Okay, okay. But seriously, we need to act fast.” Arushi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Let’s see if we can contact Instagram about the hacking.”

The minutes felt like hours as we worked together, each click of the keyboard echoing in the tense silence. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my mind kept drifting back to Crocodile—his sharp gaze, the way he often scolded us for being late to class, and that smug smile he wore whenever he caught someone off guard.

“What if he sees me in class tomorrow?” I blurted, my voice a whisper. “What if he thinks I’m the one who leaked this?”

“Then you’ll just have to confront him. You can’t let him think you’re guilty of something you didn’t do.” Arushi’s tone was firm, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Easy for you to say.” I crossed my arms, pacing again. “He’ll make my life miserable.”

“Maybe we can catch him before class starts. Just explain, you know? It’s not like you have a history of pulling stunts like this,” she suggested, her voice softening. I shot her a glare. "Okay okay you have a history in playing stunts." She said.

“Yeah, but he'll not think this is funny.” I sank onto the couch, feeling defeated. “I can’t believe this is happening. I just wanted a fun night of pasta and movies.”

“And you will have one again. We just need to fix this first.” Arushi’s determination was contagious, and I felt a spark of hope.

“Okay, let’s keep working on this. I’m not going to let some hacker ruin my life,” I said, a newfound resolve settling in.

Arushi grinned. “That’s the spirit! Besides, if we can’t fix it, we’ll just make an even better story out of it. Who wouldn’t want to see the drama unfold?”

“Right, because that’s exactly what I need—more drama,” I replied dryly, but a smile tugged at my lips.

The tension in the room began to lift as we continued searching for answers. Hours passed, filled with our frantic search, the stakes higher than before.

I could feel the tension creeping back in, but with Arushi by my side, I knew we were ready to face whatever came next.

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