Zoya didn’t expect today to be anything special.

Aarfa had dragged Ayaan off to help with decoration duty, Akif had basketball practice, and she was supposed to just breathe for once.

Instead... she walked right into a storm.

---

It started with a group activity in class.

> “We’re splitting into small groups to present next week,” the professor said.

“You’ll choose your team, and the topic.”

Zoya stood up slowly, glancing at the back benches. Aarfa wasn’t there yet. She looked around nervously — unfamiliar faces everywhere.

Then, from behind her—

> “Zoya!” Jiya’s voice rang out sweetly.

Too sweet.

Zoya blinked. “Yeah?”

> “Why don’t you join our group today?”

“It’ll be fun. We’re doing a presentation on social image.”

Zoya hesitated. Something about her smile felt… wrong.

But before she could decline, the professor called out:

> “Five more seconds to form groups!”

With no time left, Zoya nodded hesitantly and joined them.

---

At first, it seemed fine.

They divided work. Chose slides. Assigned who’d speak on what.

Zoya offered ideas, took notes quietly, and tried to stay in the background.

Until—

> “Actually,” Jiya said with fake innocence, “Zoya should do the speaking part of our presentation.”

Zoya blinked. “Me?”

> “Yeah! You’ve been getting so much attention lately,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

“Let’s see if you can talk as well as you look.”

Everyone went quiet.

Zoya’s hands tensed under the table.

> “I’m not great at public speaking,” she said honestly.

> “Aw, don’t be shy,” Jiya cooed, loud enough for the class to hear.

“You’re always chatting with Akif, aren’t you?”

A few heads turned. Laughter echoed.

Zoya’s chest burned — not with embarrassment… but anger.

---

> “What’s your problem?” she asked, voice calm but firm.

Jiya smirked. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

> “No. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

The class fell quiet.

Zoya stood up slowly, her voice still steady. “You can try to embarrass me. Call me names. Use sarcasm.”

> “But you won’t shake me.”

> “I’m not here to compete with you, Jiya. I’m here to breathe. And if that bothers you… that’s your problem.”

A silence that stung followed her words.

Jiya’s face stiffened.

Zoya turned and walked away — straight to the professor.

> “Excuse me, sir. I’d prefer to switch groups if that’s okay.”

The professor nodded. “Go ahead.”

Zoya walked over to a new group, sat down, heart pounding… but proud.

---

Later that day, she sat outside near the college garden, notebook in hand, trying to calm her thoughts.

And then...

> “Hey.”

She looked up.

Akif.

> “Heard what happened,” he said, sitting beside her.

> “Of course you did,” she mumbled.

> “Everyone’s talking about it.”

She groaned, covering her face. “Please. Don’t.”

He chuckled softly.

> “I’m not here to tease you.”

She peeked through her fingers. “Then?”

He looked at her — that serious, unreadable Akif look.

> “I just wanted to say... I’m proud of you.”

She blinked.

> “You stood up for yourself. Calm. Classy. Savage.”

“You did

n’t just fight. You won.”

Zoya stared at him.

And for the first time all day…

She smiled.

> “Thanks, Akif.”

> “Anytime, Chota Don.”

---

To be continued...

_________

Was the chapter too short? Or is it getting boring? Next chapter's going to be fire 🔥

Meet you at next chapter.

Byee, love yaa 🪐💜