Chapter 22: A Day Of School Part-1

In the middle of the city square, cars and buses crawled through the traffic-choked road.

A traffic police officer, dressed in white uniform, grabbed the collar of a biker."Why are you running? Can’t you see me? Where’s your helmet?"

The biker, looking like an ordinary office worker, pleaded, "Sorry, sir. I’m running late. Please let me go."

The officer glanced around, then continued, "You want to go? Do you think we don’t value our time?" he added in a low voice. "Pay 500 in cash, or I will issue the fine."

The biker sighed and reached into his wallet.

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Before he could hand over the money, a gray luxury SUV sped past.

Splash!

Because of puddles formed by rain in the potholes, water splashed up, drenching both the officer and the biker.

The traffic cop cursed under his breath, "Son of a—"

But he stopped mid-curse when he caught sight of the car’s logo. He sighed, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the droplets off his cheek.

The biker, watching the scene, asked, "Sir, are you really going to let that go?"

Without warning, the officer slapped the biker sharply, as if releasing some built-up frustration, and growled, "Damn fool! You want me transferred?"

The biker rubbed his cheek, stunned, as the officer forced him to look after the fading SUV.

"Don’t you see the logo? That’s a Bentley. People who can afford those could buy our entire department ten times over."

The man driving the car was none other than Balwinder, the bodyguard of Singhania, on his way to drop his escorts at school.

He smirked knowingly, flaunting the power and status of those he served—power ordinary people could only dream of. Then he focused on the road ahead.

Unaware of the commotion, Rohit sat in the backseat with a sullen expression, staring out the window, his mind spinning in endless spirals.

Beside him, his twin cousins giggled and whispered, their laughter only adding to his irritation and distraction.

He already had a bandage on his forehead, and now a fresh one covered his nose.

The reason?

Before leaving for school, the girl he’d seen in black panties was none other than his elder sister. What followed was nothing short of embarrassing.

Not only did she throw the teddy bear at his face, but the hair dryer followed, striking his nose. He might have ducked, but still dazed from the first hit and rushing to escape, he didn’t have time to react and took the full blow.

Ragini hurried over, spotted his bleeding nose, quickly pieced together what had happened, and helped him get bandaged.

Tanya trailed behind, watching the whole scene unfold.

Since then, she had been nagging and mocking him with sarcastic questions throughout the entire journey:

"Did you like what you saw?"

"What color were her nipples?"

"Was that your first time seeing boobs?"

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To any onlooker, it might have seemed like they were close—but Rohit knew the truth. He clearly remembered how manipulative and cunning Tanya could be.

One wrong word from him, and she would spread it to everyone. The recent scandal had probably already made its way into her social circles—and worse, there are two more witnesses if he dared to take action.

Then came a sharp comment from Aisha, Tanya’s twin, who added salt to the wound:"Pervert," she said without even looking at him. "How can someone peek at their own sister?"

Rohit flinched as he stared at Aisha, who remained absorbed in her tablet with headphones in her ears.

Suddenly, a face with a mocking grin blocked his view — it was Tanya.

"Look at me. I’m more beautiful than her," she taunted.

She struck a pose as if taking a fake selfie on her phone.

Yes, they were both beautiful, but Rohit felt nothing for them. Though his past memories left a bitter taste, his current impression of them was even colder.

He looked back outside the car, his mind churning with ways to find their weakness and bring them down to their knees, licking his third leg and pleading for mercy.

Tanya asked with a low tone, showing fake concern, "Aww... did you get angry?"

Aisha nudged her, signaling it was enough. Tanya laughed, openly admitting the mockery with a final jab, "Tch... loser."

Then she returned to typing on her phone.

Soon, the school came into view. It was a large campus reserved for the elite — special affiliates, diplomats, and rich families.

The car passed through a security check and entered through the big gate, driving toward the entrance parking lot.

Outside, a group of high schoolers sat on brand-new bikes. Their leader was an American white guy named Victor — the unspoken leader of all the delinquents.

Tall and muscular, Victor eyed the car as it pulled up. His collar was turned high, his shirt untucked, and his spiky hair added to his fierce, predator-like gaze. His lackeys flanked him, silent and watchful.

He looked exactly like the alpha male he wished for himself. If not for his character, they might have been good friends.

As soon as they stepped out, Tanya’s face lit up with excitement. She jumped up and threw her arms around Rohit. He caught her effortlessly, lifting her into a brief hug. They shared a quick kiss and exchanged a few words.

Rohit glanced at Balwinder, the bodyguard, who was staring up at the sky as if trying to count invisible birds.

He knew why Balwinder wasn’t stepping in, but he had to show some reaction. According to his past memories, their family had close ties with Victor’s father, whose embassy connections helped them with exports. Rohit had never dared get on Victor’s bad side—no matter the cost.

Victor turned to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "How are you, brother-in-law?"

Despite being a foreigner, Victor’s Hindi was quite good, albeit with an accent—a perk of being a diplomat’s son.

Then Tanya reminded Victor with a signal as if Rohit was mentally challenged, so Victor corrected himself.

"Ah, sorry, I forgot you lost your memories. But look at you—looking pretty perfect. Except maybe a few bruises from some home skirmish?"

His sarcasm lingered in that last line, as if he knew exactly what had happened. It made Rohit clench his fists until his knuckles turned white.

This humiliation will not go unpunished.

He needed time to settle this later. The battlefield would be chosen to his liking.

Sensing the rising tension, Balwinder tactfully intervened. "Sir, our young master needs to see the principal. If you don’t mind..."

Victor laughed. "Ah yes, your young master." He slipped his hand around Tanya’s waist and headed toward the school building, while Aisha followed them.

Rohit looked puzzled.

He raised an eyebrow. "You know the way?"

Balwinder nodded. "I came by yesterday to get familiar with the school and already spoke to the principal."

Rohit shrugged. "Alright. Lead the way."

As they walked, Rohit couldn’t help but be impressed by the school’s buildings. The infrastructure was top-notch, rivaling the quality of the best colleges in the country.

The campus was built like a fortress, consisting of four main buildings arranged around a central ground that served as a stage and sports area, complete with platforms for spectators.

Each building was called a "wing."

The main entrance building was A Wing, designated for primary students—from nursery up to class five.

To the left was B Wing, for middle schoolers up to class nine. On the right stood C Wing, for high school students in classes ten to twelve.

The last building, directly opposite, was D Wing, housing staff offices and the canteen.

Unlike many other schools, this one had a canteen offering meals during tiffin time, much like a college.

All the wings were interconnected.

As they passed C Wing, Rohit’s gaze landed on a Korean girl wearing glasses being interrogated by a group of boys. They held her spectacles while her head hung low in shame.

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He knew her—Seo-yeon, a class ten student. Technically, she should have been in class twelve, as they were the same age.

But having recently transferred to India, her father made her drop a class to adjust. She had even failed that class and had to repeat it.

Excuses or not, this became the reason she was bullied—despite being the prettiest girl, she was mocked and alienated further.

Rohit ignored her. To him, those who didn’t stand up for themselves weren’t his concern. She was letting herself be bullied.

Just then, he heard a voice call out,

"Hey, diplomatic Gandhi!"

"Leave him—he’s got company."

Rohit smirked but ignored them. The nickname stung—a bitter reminder from his past.

He wasn’t called Gandhi for his looks but for his preference. His past self had lived a life of diplomacy and non-violence, making friends with the underprivileged. That was how the name stuck.

Just as Rohit was about to enter the principal’s office, he raised an eyebrow as he suddenly collided with a woman rushing out.

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She was dressed in a professional suit and skirt—his chemistry teacher, Karishma. She wore a panicked expression at first but quickly composed herself, though she could not hide her faint depression.

Karishma was the same woman rumored to have had an affair with his friend Akhil. She hurried past without a word.

Inside, Rohit was called in. He glanced up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

The principal was a bald man who greeted him with a bright but fake smile.

But the first thing Rohit noticed was that his zipper was undone. Was that a coincidence?