Chapter 4: Public Fights and Private Deals

The next day, after Rohan left, I went back to college to pack up. As soon as I got to the gate, someone stopped me.

The morning sun beat down on the college grounds, heat shimmering off the concrete. I wiped sweat from my brow, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

Kabir looked pale, as if he hadn’t slept all night, and questioned, "Where did you go?"

He blocked my path, arms crossed, face twisted with jealousy. His shirt was crumpled, hair uncombed—so unlike his usual self.

"I was with my boyfriend, where else? Besides, what does where I go have to do with you?"

I tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me, refusing to let go. The security guard glanced over, but didn’t interfere—everyone knew not to mess with rich boys.

His chest heaved violently, clearly furious.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight. I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Him? He’s worthy?" He pressed aggressively, his tone mocking. "How am I worse than him?"

He leaned in, voice dropping to a sneer. I recoiled, refusing to be intimidated.

"If he’s not worthy, are you?"

I shot back, refusing to let him see me flinch. My heart pounded, but I stood my ground.

"We’ve been friends since childhood, dating since school. He paid my college tuition."

His words were heavy, tinged with betrayal. I saw the hurt lurking beneath his bravado.

"Everything I wear, use, eat, and drink was bought by him. How is he not worthy? If you have to say someone isn’t worthy in our relationship, it’s me who’s not worthy of him."

My voice shook, but I meant every word. People passing by slowed down, sensing drama. The news would travel fast—Ananya and Kabir fighting at the gate!

I was so angry. "In my heart, you can’t compare to him at all. You’re just richer than him—is that where your sense of superiority comes from?"

I spat the words out, refusing to let him belittle what Rohan had done for me. I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Kabir seemed to have found my weak spot, and his voice grew louder.

He seized the opportunity, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "Yes, I’m rich. Do you want to be poor with that chap for life?"

"Sorry, I’ve always been supported by the ‘chap’ you talk about. No matter how poor he is, he’s never been poorer than me. And if you keep pestering me, be careful—my boyfriend will beat you up."

I squared my shoulders, daring him to test me. The crowd murmured, some cheering, some jeering. I didn’t care.

Kabir didn’t care. "Your boyfriend is probably busy carrying bricks at the construction site now. How would he have time to bother with you?"

He sneered, reaching out to grab my wrist. I recoiled, fear and anger warring inside me.

As he spoke, he reached out to grab my hand.

His grip was tight, fingers digging into my skin. I gasped, struggling to pull away.

At that moment, a hand suddenly reached out and firmly grabbed Kabir’s arm. "As long as it concerns my girlfriend, I always have time."

Rohan’s voice was ice, cutting through the noise like a knife. He yanked Kabir’s hand away, his grip unyielding.

Kabir screamed in pain, "Arrey, arrey, arrey..."

His face twisted in agony, but Rohan didn’t let go. The chaiwala at the gate paused mid-pour, craning his neck to watch the drama unfold. The crowd gasped, some backing away, others pulling out their phones to record.

Rohan was unmoved, his grip like a vice on Kabir. His voice was cold as ice:

He leaned in, eyes blazing. "Stay away from my girlfriend. Otherwise, you know, guys like me—chaps—our lives are worthless. But your life is different."

Kabir’s face turned ashen and he nodded repeatedly. When Rohan let go, he ran off in a panic.

He bolted, almost tripping over his own feet. The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Rohan dusted off his hands, turning to me with an odd expression.

Rohan turned to me, his expression strange—like he was touched, but also embarrassed.

His eyes softened, a hint of pride breaking through. For a moment, I saw the boy I’d fallen for in another lifetime.

It took a while for his face to return to normal.

He cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze. I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in days.

"Didn’t you say he was pestering you? Why did you come back?"

He tried to sound annoyed, but his voice wavered just enough to give him away. I shrugged, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

"Didn’t you dislike me?"

I bit my lip, searching his face for answers. The old Rohan would have never let me doubt myself.

Rohan got anxious. "When did I say that?"

His ears turned red, and he looked everywhere but at me. I smothered a laugh, pretending to be serious.

"Then why did you sleep on the sofa?"

I folded my arms, waiting for his answer. He sputtered, caught off guard by my question.

Rohan’s face turned green, then white, then red—like a traffic signal gone mad.

He stammered, words tumbling over each other in a rush. I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling.

"You’re a girl, how can you be so shameless?" Finally, he stammered, "I didn’t, didn’t dislike you."

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.

After I finished packing, Rohan directly brought me back to the chawl.

He hailed a rickshaw, loading my bags with practiced ease. The driver grinned, winking at me as we sped through the crowded streets.

"Have you found an internship yet?"

His voice was gentle, almost hopeful. I shook my head, feeling suddenly shy.

"No."

He nodded, lips curving into a small smile. For a second, he looked almost proud.

"From today, come work at our company." Before I could get excited, he added,

"Your salary will go toward paying off your debt."

He grinned, knowing exactly how to keep me in check. I pouted, but didn’t protest.

"Then what will I eat and drink?"

I widened my eyes, hoping for a better deal. He laughed, shaking his head.

Rohan blushed and pretended to be serious: "The company provides food and accommodation."

He winked, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.