Chapter 2 - Rumours, Silence, and the First Breakdown

I never knew that something so small could destroy a piece of me.

The rumours began before I even heard them.

All I knew was that one day I walked into class and suddenly everyone stared at me differently — like I was a joke only they understood.

But it all began much earlier… with a stupid game.

We were playing Truth or Dare. I picked truth.

Someone asked, “Who looks good in our class?”

I didn’t think it was a big question, so I answered honestly.

> “Maybe… Aarav.”

And the game moved on. We laughed. We talked. It was nothing.

Or so I thought.

No one knew about the one talent I kept close to my heart — writing letters.

I could write to anyone: a crush, a celebrity, or just a friend.

Only one girl knew it… and once again, I trusted the wrong person.

One letter slipped out of my bag. Someone found it.

They decided it must be a love letter — for Aarav.

That was where it all began.

Suddenly the story changed:

“She gave him a love letter.”

“He rejected her.”

“She’s obsessed with him.”

“She has a hardcore crush.”

I wasn’t even aware of anything… until it reached me.

And the moment it did, the world shifted.

The classroom felt like a cage.

Their eyes were hunters’ eyes, waiting for a reaction.

They laughed, whispered, pointed — not bullying, not violent… but painful.

Because sometimes words can bruise deeper than hands.

What hurt the most wasn’t the gossip.

It was that the girls I trusted — the ones I called friends — were the ones who spread it.

I didn’t cry in school.

I cried at home.

Where nobody could see me fall apart.

I couldn’t tell him either — the boy who had slowly become the reason for my smiles.

So I pushed him away.

He texted me every day.

I ignored every message.

He thought I was bored of him.

He thought maybe I didn’t like him anymore.

Maybe I wanted to leave.

But he didn’t give up.

One day he called. Out of nowhere.

I answered, trying to sound normal.

“Hey.”

“Your voice is not okay,” he said immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just a cold,” I lied.

He paused, and then replied softly:

> “Are you sure?

You know I’m always on your side, right?

I think about you — a lot.

I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can feel something is.

You don’t have to tell me now… or ever… but just remember — I’m here.

And I’ll wait.”

Something snapped inside me.

The tears I had been holding for weeks — all the shame, the hurt, the betrayal — came flooding out.

He stayed silent. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t judge.

He just listened to me cry.

And for the first time since everything happened… I felt like I could breathe again.

When I finally stopped, he whispered:

> “Feeling better after letting it out?”

I was.

Strangely… I was.

Then he asked gently:

> “Do you want to tell me?

Now… later… or never? I’ll be okay with whatever you choose.”

“Yes,” I answered.

And I told him everything — the rumours, the humiliation, the betrayal of my so-called friends.

He didn’t interrupt. But I could hear the anger in his breathing.

When I finished, he took a deep breath and said:

> “I have an idea.

An idea to get revenge on them… for you.

Want to hear it?”

To be continued.

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