Chapter 4: Just A Normal Day

📌 [Author's Note – Please Read First]

Hey there! 👋

Before you dive into Chapter 4, just a quick heads-up:

🔄 Chapter 3 has been completely rewritten.

The scenes, tone, and character development — especially Aryan's fight and what it means — have all been reshaped to match the story's direction more clearly.

If you've already read the old version of Chapter 3, I highly recommend re-reading it.

This chapter continues directly from the new version, and a few moments here may feel confusing or disconnected without it.

Thanks for your support and patience — and I hope you enjoy the story from here onward.

🗓️ Chapter 3 Updated On: 25/ 6/ 2025

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[The Next Day]

The morning air was soft as usual.

Aryan walked through the school gates with his hands in his pockets, head slightly down, eyes scanning without focus. The sun was soft, the breeze light, but the weight in his chest hadn't faded from the day before.

Students filled the courtyard — laughing, talking, moving in their little groups. No one said anything to him. But some looked.

He could feel it.

The whispers weren't loud, but they were there — folded between glances and side-eyes. Ishaan hadn't shown up.

Aryan didn't need to hear the rumors. He already knew how they'd shape him in others' eyes.

He wasn't proud. But he wasn't ashamed, either.

Just… tired.

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Classes passed like moving water. Quiet. Uneventful.

Aryan stared out the window more than at the board.

At lunch, he sat alone on the back steps, unwrapping a simple sandwich and eating slowly. He didn't seek out anyone. And no one came looking for him.

---

The rest of the day passed quietly. But inside, something kept shifting.

He replayed the fight.

Not the hits. Not the pain.

But that moment — the second before it all began.

The silence after the first swing when aryan dodged.

The space where a choice could've lived.

Could he have walked away?

His heart hadn't been racing. His body wasn't cornered.

There was space.

Not much — but enough.

And maybe…

Maybe if he had walked, Ishaan wouldn't have let him go.

Maybe words would've failed anyway.

Maybe fists were already waiting for a reason.

Still—

The part that bothered him most wasn't the fight.

It was that a part of him didn't even try to avoid it.

He reacted.

But now…

He wondered.

Was it his mistake from the start?

Not yesterday — but back when he first threw that punch at Ishaan in school.

Had that one decision shaped everything that followed?

Maybe none of this would've happened if he hadn't Punched Him.

Or maybe it would've happened anyway.

He didn't know.

But the question lingered.

---

When the final bell rang, Aryan didn't leave immediately. He took the long way out of school. Past the old building. Through the quieter corridors.

Just walking.

Breathing.

And as he stepped into the fading sunlight outside the back gate, he saw her.

Meera.

She was waiting by the side wall, half in shadow. Calm as always.

Aryan slowed instinctively.

He hadn't planned on seeing her.

Or maybe he had — and just didn't want to admit it.

He approached, unsure what to say.

Before he could open his mouth, Meera spoke first.

"You fought again?"

No surprise in her voice. No anger either. Just confirming — like she already knew the answer and only wanted to see how he'd respond.

"I saw Ishaan yesterday," she added.

"And two guys I've never seen before. One had a busted jaw. The other could barely walk straight."

Aryan hesitated. "They… they started it."

Meera tilted her head. Her gaze didn't soften.

"And you ended it?"

He swallowed. "I didn't have a choice."

The words felt thin in the air, and Aryan knew it. His shoulders tensed — not out of fear, but out of the quiet guilt pressing on his chest.

But Meera didn't scold him. She didn't walk away either.

"It's good you defended yourself," she said.

Then, softer — not scolding, not cold:

"But… you should've controlled yourself."

Aryan looked down.

Meera didn't say more. She just turned.

And they walked away,

No more words. Only the sound of their footsteps — fading into quiet.

By the time he got home, the sun was already leaning into evening.

---

His mother returned with a tired smile. Dinner was quiet. And when she asked,

"How was school today?"

he simply said,

"Normal."

And this time, it was almost true.

Almost.

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[To Be Continued...]