Chapter 6: Rivalries and Rumours

The CCTV footage no longer mattered. If the class topper took the blame, the cameras could be broken or the power out—toppers always had that privilege.

On the way back, Priya huffed, "Rohan, you have to help me with my studies too!"

He reached out to pat her head, but before he could, I cut in, "Rohan, you owe me tuition for the apology, and it has to be on my schedule."

He froze, surprised.

Priya stomped, "You can’t go! You’re not allowed to help her!"

I smiled, not bothering to listen to the rest.

After leaving, I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over Rohan’s chat, hesitating, when a family WhatsApp group pinged with a meme about politics. Ignoring it, I focused and finally messaged him:

[If you’re going to take the blame for someone, just showing your face isn’t enough.]

A long time passed before he replied.

[I'll help you with your studies.]

A few seconds later, two more messages:

[I'll only help you.]

[Don't worry.]

As I walked past the chaiwallah, the tang of masala chai mixing with city dust, I felt lighter. The college campus was waking up, students laughing, cycle bells ringing. My phone buzzed in my kurti pocket, and seeing his message made my heart skip. Even if I was the main course at everyone’s gossip table, at least Rohan was on my side—for now. A stray dog wagged its tail at me as I sat under the neem tree, letting the moment linger.

But as I bit into the samosa, I wondered—how long before the next rumour started?