Chapter 5: Topper and Temptation

The results of the Inter-School Joint Exam were out.

I was first in the entire school.

And first by a landslide among all eight schools.

Nearly thirty marks ahead of the runner-up.

As my photo and marksheet spread, Kaveripur Public’s reputation soared above the rest.

Our class was rated excellent, publicly praised.

For Priya, who used to bully me, I always wore a tolerant smile: "It’s all in the past. As long as she knows her mistake and changes, it’s fine."

My words made the teachers proud, but the students only pitied Priya more. In the corridors, girls would whisper, "Poor thing, she really messed up. Meera is so nice, forgiving her like that."

The more forgiving I appeared, the worse Priya’s reputation became.

She looked at me with venom every day, her eyes brimming with hatred.

But all around me were voices of praise.

"Study queen, I bow to you."

"Let me worship your photo—can my chemistry score go up ten marks? Just let me get an 85, please. How did you get a perfect score?"

"Math is also perfect… Amazing."

"Her English essay score isn’t low either, a real all-rounder."

"She’s definitely a genius. I’m her bench partner—I watched her all day yesterday. She wasn’t wearing makeup, no dark circles… Must be Priya spreading rumours because she’s jealous. So speechless."

The classroom echoed with these silly superstitions. Some classmates even touched my notebook for good luck before the next test. Someone scribbled, “Meera ki photo ke niche padh, toh number pakka aayega” on the classroom blackboard.

I returned to my seat, and my bench partner asked curiously, "So many people are chasing you, Meera. Do you like any of them?"

I shook my head, adjusting my dupatta.

The people Priya sent were all boring, and the others who approached me were even more so—their acting was too clumsy.

My bench partner whispered, "Just as I thought, an unattainable beauty—out of reach."

Besides Arjun, there were one, two, three, four, five others chasing me—more than I could count on one hand.

I liked novelty, preferably someone who could stir my curiosity, but none of them managed it.

Until a transfer student arrived in class—a face that could steal hearts.

He was incredibly handsome.

His abs were well-defined.

His voice, when he acted spoiled, was sweet.

Most importantly, he was interesting. While others pursued me, he openly used his looks to seduce.

I looked at Kabir, who deliberately appeared in front of me, soaked through, his white shirt clinging to his waist.

He walked into class one rainy afternoon, shoes squelching with each step, the smell of wet earth drifting in from the open window. A classmate muttered, "Yeh banda full filmi hai." The whole class went silent. Some girls tried to hide their smiles behind their textbooks. Even our class monitor lost her train of thought, staring at the water running down his arms.

"Bullied again?"

I looked at him with a hint of pity, tapping my pen on my notebook.

He nodded, his black hair falling obediently over his forehead.

My fingertip brushed just below his Adam’s apple. "Your button’s broken."

The class held its breath, pretending not to watch. In that moment, my touch lingered a little too long. I saw Kabir’s lips quirk up, the ghost of a smirk passing over his face. His eyes, wide and innocent, met mine with practiced vulnerability.

Pitiful little creatures always tug at the heart. He timidly grabbed my hand, tempting me.

"Am I that annoying? They say I look like a girl. Everyone bullies me."

I looked at his clean, innocent appearance, then at the anonymous video sent to my phone. My smile deepened.

He was a master of the double act. While in class he played the bullied new kid, outside school he was ruthless. The video showed a side of him the others didn’t know: a private party room, cola in crystal glasses, the sharp scent of roses mingling with cigarette smoke, his laughter cold as he humiliated a girl for sport.

In a noisy private party room, Kabir poured cola onto a woman’s chest, his expression mocking: "Nice chest. Good for flower arranging."

Then he picked up a thorny rose and, under her frightened gaze, pressed it down mercilessly.

"Get out."

Kabir’s voice was impatient.

His acting was top notch. At that moment, a gulmohar petal landed perfectly in his hair, making him look pure and harmless.

But those around him didn’t know—male jealousy can be terrifying.

The day I publicly praised his looks, someone immediately exposed Kabir’s underwear.

I took a tissue and wiped his hair. "Want to be my bench partner?"

My classmates gaped, but no one dared say a word. I could feel Priya’s furious gaze burning into my back. Kabir smiled, triumphant. The game had begun.