Chapter 5: Last Stand and Liberation

At this, Rohan sneered, blowing his alcohol-laced breath in my face. 'Amit, are you saying I picked up your leftovers?' His words were meant to provoke, to reignite old rivalries. I met his gaze, refusing to flinch.

'Or are you claiming you’ve found someone better than Sneha?' His disbelief was clear, and the crowd leaned in, hungry for new gossip.

Rohan’s friends stood up, forming a wall near the door, loyalty as instant as always. 'Yeah, Amit, what do you mean? Are you saying our class beauty isn’t as good as your girlfriend?'

'If you’ve got the guts, show us your girlfriend. Let’s see how she compares to the class beauty. Don’t tell us you found someone unattractive and are just saying this because you’re embarrassed.'

I took a deep breath, summoning the calm that years of officialdom had taught me. 'That’s not what I mean. The class prefect’s fiancée is, of course, beautiful. But in my heart, my girlfriend is my goddess, and I love her very much.'

Sneha’s eyes lit up, competitive curiosity returning. Rohan’s tone turned mocking. 'So, what does your girlfriend do?'

'She’s a pilot in the Air Force. She’s usually very busy.' The room fell silent, respect for a woman pilot even cutting through cynicism. Sneha leaned in. 'Amit, your girlfriend sounds impressive. I heard there are only about three female pilots in the country each year. Can you tell us her name?'

I shook my head, keeping my tone respectful but firm. 'Military rules. I can’t just give out her name. I really have something urgent now. Can you have your fiancé open the door and let me leave?'

The room burst out laughing, convinced I was spinning tales. One after another, they laughed as if it were the year’s best joke. A classmate gasped, 'Amit, you’re giving me enough laughs for the whole year. “Military rules,” that’s hilarious.' A freckled classmate added, 'Yeah, maybe he’s just gotten used to pretending at work and can’t drop the act even with us.'

I checked my watch. Time was running out. I edged toward the door, but several hotel staff blocked my way—broad-chested, arms folded, Mumbai’s own brand of muscle. Rohan taunted, 'I think you’re addicted to showing off. Don’t you know who my dad is in Mumbai?'

I shot him a cold look. 'Whether I’m bragging or not is none of your business. If you make me miss my meeting, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.'

Rohan laughed, tossing his head back. 'Did everyone hear that? He said if I make him miss his meeting, I’ll have to deal with the consequences.' He swaggered, arms wide. 'You’re just a little clerk who carries the boss’s files. What difference does it make if you’re not there? Do you really think you’re important?'

'You said it yourself, so don’t regret it later. By the way, your dad’s supposed to be at that meeting too, right? You know how serious this is.'

I looked at the faces around me, old friends now strangers. Was this what reunions were supposed to be? The humility that once defined me was now their weapon. Rohan, sensing my silence, pressed harder. 'Amit, if you want to leave, drink these two bottles of Royal Stag for me and we’ll call it even. Otherwise, don’t even think about leaving.' He waved the bottles, daring me.

The room was charged, everyone hungry for a spectacle. I stood, voice cold. 'Rohan, I’ll warn you one last time. Do you even know who you’re trying to stop today? I suggest you let me go now, or you’ll be the one regretting it—not me. Do you understand?'

My words were calm, each syllable heavy with experience. The mood shifted. Rohan tried to rally with a sneer. 'Did you all hear that? He says I’ll be the one to regret it. I really don’t know where he gets this bottomless confidence. Maybe he’s got a pump installed or what?'

Priya, unable to bear it, stepped in. She clutched her dupatta, blinking away angry tears before replying. 'Rohan, we’re all classmates. Why make things so difficult? Just let Amit go. Maybe he really does have something urgent.'

Rohan rolled his eyes. 'Priya, are you blind? Am I the one making trouble? And you—what, you got a thing for this little clerk? Oh, I get it. You used to flirt with him, probably liked him, right?'

Priya’s cheeks flushed, her hand twisting her dupatta as she steadied her voice. 'Don’t talk nonsense. We’re all classmates.'

A couple of sycophants jumped in. 'Yeah, Priya, what’s it to you? Are you going to drink the two bottles for Amit?' Their laughter was sharp. Rohan basked in it, pressing on. 'Amit, cat got your tongue? Weren’t you bragging just now? Why so quiet?'

I’d had enough. As I turned to leave, Rohan’s eyes turned cold and he signalled to two waiters to hold me down. Their grip was firm, a silent warning. 'What, you want to leave without drinking? You really don’t take me seriously, do you?'

I shoved the waiters aside, voice low but clear. 'Whether you’re a decent person or not is none of my business. Want me to teach you how to behave?'

Rohan glared. 'Drink it. If you don’t, I’ll go smash your car.'

I gritted my teeth, standing tall. 'I won’t drink, and I don’t believe you have the guts to smash my car.'

As the laughter faded, I walked out into the humid Mumbai night, the city’s chaos a welcome relief from the suffocating nostalgia inside.