AUTHOR’S POV:
Veer’s voice was calm, controlled, like each word was measured before it left his mouth. The class hung onto every syllable—not out of interest, but out of fear they might miss something and get caught.
He wrote “PSYCHOLOGY OF BEHAVIOR” in all caps on the board. His handwriting was sharp, clean. Just like him.
Lavanya leaned back in her seat, one brow raised. She hadn’t even taken out her notebook. Her arms were crossed, eyes locked on him—not with interest, but amusement.
And he noticed.
Of course, he did.
He turned around, eyes scanning the class again. But this time, they landed right on her.
“You,” he said, pointing with his marker. “Name.”
The class collectively gasped.
Lavanya’s smirk deepened.
“Lavanya Tripathi,” she said coolly, like she was introducing herself at a film premiere, not to a strict professor.
Veer didn’t react. He nodded slowly.
“Since you seem very… comfortable,” he said, walking a step closer, “you can start by telling the class what behavior psychology means to you.”
Her friends turned their heads toward her like this was a boxing match.
Lavanya tilted her head, not blinking.
“To me?” she repeated, then paused dramatically. “It’s how people hide what they really feel, just to appear acceptable. Like smiling when they want to scream. Or acting tough…” her eyes flicked to him, “…when they’re actually scared.”
A low “oooh” came from somewhere in the room.
Veer stared at her, unreadable. No smile. No frown. Just that steady, cold stare that could freeze time.
“Interesting,” he said finally. “Wrong—but interesting.”
Laughter bubbled in the class, but it died down fast when his gaze shifted to the next student. Lavanya didn’t laugh.
She just bit the inside of her cheek, leaned forward slightly, and whispered to her friend, “Challenge accepted.”
And from that moment on…
Class was no longer a classroom.
It was a battlefield.
VEER’S POV:
She spoke like she’d never been told “no.”
Like she was used to being the smartest, the loudest, the center of gravity.
I’d seen her type before.
But this one? She was different.
The way she looked me dead in the eye and tossed that line at me—I didn’t miss the deeper meaning.
She was testing me.
Trying to see if the rumors were true.
I didn’t blink.
I didn’t smirk.
I simply made a mental note:
Lavanya Tripathi.
Too sharp for her own good.
Too bold to go unnoticed.
I wouldn’t break her spirit.
But I sure as hell would bend it.
And if she thought this was going to be fun and games, she was in for a very long semester.
Because I didn’t come here to play.
I came here to remind people—especially ones like her—what it means to be disciplined.
Let’s see how long she lasts.
AUTHOR’S POV:
The bell rang.
Chairs screeched. Students rushed. Notes were shoved into bags without even looking. The tension in the air cracked like electricity—Veer hadn’t even raised his voice once, yet it felt like he’d screamed at everyone’s soul.
Lavanya stood up last.
Her friends looked at her like they were watching a slow car crash. Samaira tried (and failed) to hide her giggle.
“Oh. My. God. Did you just—challenge him?” she whisper-yelled, looping her arm through Lavanya’s as they walked out.
Lavanya scoffed, tossing her hair. “I didn’t challenge anyone. I just answered the question.”
“Yeah. And gave him an attitude like you were in a courtroom drama,” Nikhil laughed from behind. “Bro legit looked like he wanted to expel you and nominate you for an Oscar at the same time.”
Samaira added with a dramatic gasp, “Wait—was that... tension? Like academic enemies-to-lovers tension?”
Lavanya glared at her. “Please. He’s a statue in black. Zero vibe. Negative charm. That man probably hasn’t smiled since the Mughal era.”
They laughed as they walked farther down the corridor, their voices bouncing off the walls.
What they didn’t know?
He heard every word.
VEER’S POV:
I was still erasing the board. Not because it needed to be done—but because I wanted to think.
She was sharp. And proud. And far too used to being worshipped.
That won’t work here.
I walked toward the door, but stopped just as I heard footsteps rush past.
Her voice.
Clear. Confidence. Mocking.
“That man probably hasn’t smiled since the Mughal era.”
The class laughed.
I didn’t.
I stepped back into the shadows and let them pass, one by one. Their laughter echoed behind them.
But Lavanya’s words lingered.
So she wanted to play?
Fine.
But she had no idea—
I’ve mastered the art of discipline.
She’s just starting to flirt with rebellion.
This game?
Has already begun.
Write a comment ...