varun

It's unbelievable, stuck among such ignorant people! I never imagined I would encounter such individuals in a city like Mumbai. Staying here is no longer an option for me. Every moment feels eerie, a strange unease. I can't live here anymore. These goons can do anything.

Sarthak was talking to himself when suddenly his attention went to the clock, "Oh! It's 2 o'clock, time to pick Diya up from school."

Sarthak quickly changes his clothes and rushes out to fetch Diya from school. As Sarthak heads downstairs, he sees Manu and his friends involved in a brawl with someone. Sarthak's face turns grim seeing this.

"Besides fighting and rudeness, do they have anything else to do? Look at them, this is all they keep doing." Ignoring them, Sarthak gets into an auto and leaves from there.

It was around 8 in the morning. As soon as the clock struck eight, Varun glanced at his watch. He never delayed; nor did he allow anyone else to be late. Time management was crucial for him. "Time is money," he took this saying seriously. He never tolerated even a minute's delay because he feared that once he started being late, it would become a habit. From one minute to five minutes, five minutes to fifteen minutes, and then it wouldn't take long to turn into an hour. Human habits deteriorate like this."

As soon as the clock struck 8, he got up from the bed, drank a glass of water, and went straight into the bathroom.

Forty minutes later, he came out wrapped in a towel. He opened the wardrobe and pulled out a perfectly ironed black shirt and black pants. His clothes were always neatly pressed, as if he had complete control over every part of his life.

Varun had an unusual fondness for the color black. He always wore only black clothes. Because of his daily all-black attire, people had started to suspect him. Some even believed he might be a vampire. His behavior wasn't too different either—he never smiled, and there was always a stern look on his face.

After putting on his shirt and pants, he looked at himself in the mirror, then took a tie from the drawer, adjusted it at the perfect angle, and lightly fixed his hair with his hands. Once he was ready, he made himself breakfast. Along with being a good professor, he was also a good cook. He had been cooking well since the age of ten.

After breakfast, he picked up his laptop bag, carefully placed his laptop inside, and before stepping out of the house, he took the car keys from his pocket. He went downstairs, opened the door of his black sedan, and looked at the clock once again.

It was 8:55 AM. It took exactly 15 minutes for him to reach the college.

Exactly 15 minutes later, he reached the college. As his car approached the college gate, the security guard greeted him.

Varun greeted him back and drove ahead.

He quickly parked his car in his designated area, picked up his laptop bag, and headed toward the classroom.

While walking through the corridor, he noticed that students were trying to avoid him. Some boys were chatting, but the moment they saw Varun, they immediately stood upright. A few students stopped talking altogether when they saw him. This was the result of his strict nature. Even though he didn't teach those students, they were still afraid of him—because if someday he did start teaching them, they didn't want to leave a bad impression in front of him.

No one wants to get on the radar of an ordinary professor—let alone someone as strict as Varun. They definitely didn't want to cross paths with him by mistake.

Varun was heading toward the classroom when suddenly he remembered some work and instead walked toward the staff room.

As soon as Varun entered the staff room, a few professors looked at him and smiled, but he only responded with a slight nod. He didn't like informal conversations. Everyone here was two-faced—something in front, and something else behind his back. The more politely they spoke to his face, the more they talked negatively behind his back. Varun knew this very well. That's why he avoided engaging with them. He deeply hated such hypocritical people.

Ignoring everyone, Varun walked over to his locker, took out his notebook and lecture notes, and headed straight to class.

The moment he left, whispers started in the staff room. A male professor said to a female professor, "Doesn't Professor Varun have a bit too much attitude? What would it have cost him to respond to our hello politely? I agree he's the youngest and most handsome professor here, but that doesn't mean he should walk around with such unnecessary arrogance. And we're not even his students that he has to act so rude with us."

Another male professor chimed in, "Absolutely right. And I don't know what special attachment the Principal has with him. He always listens to him and gives him all the important tasks. It's not like he's the only capable one here. There are other capable people too, but the Principal only seems to see him."

Truth be told, Varun always rubbed that male professor the wrong way—mainly because he was extremely good-looking. All the female professors were naturally attracted to him, and that fact always bothered the male professors. Though the irony was, Varun never looked at anyone. He only cared about his work and nothing else.

Leaving the staff room, Varun entered the classroom. While standing outside, he could hear a lot of noise coming from inside, but the moment he stepped in, all the students fell silent. No jokes, no whispers—the whole class went quiet instantly.

The students quickly took their seats and looked at Varun. Their eyes held a mix of fear and respect. It wasn't that everyone disliked him—there were some students who truly admired him. Because besides being strict, he was also an excellent teacher. No student ever failed in his class. His class always had an A+ result. And behind that was his hard work. He gave his 100% to teaching.