[ LUNCH BREAK ] The corridors emptied slowly. Students streamed toward the canteen, toward the courtyard, toward the benches beneath the old banyan trees.
The morning classes were over. Maya walked toward the library, the quiet hall on the second floor.
Priya stood at the end of the corridor with two of her friends — Rumi and a tall girl named Sadia.
She leaned against the wall and watched Maya approach with the patient look of someone who had been waiting.
Maya slowed, her eye moved from Priya to Rumi, to the narrow gap between them and the wall.
Priya pushed off the wall and stepped forward.
"Maya."
Maya stopped. "...Yes?"
"You're going to the library."
Maya said nothing.
"You're always going to the library, every free period. Always alone. Don't you get lonely?"
"...No."
"No?" Priya's eyebrows rose. "You don't get lonely sitting by yourself every day with your books?"
"No."
Priya exchanged a glance with Rumi. "See? I told you. She thinks she's spacial."
Rumi stepped forward, closing the distance until she was standing directly in front of Maya, close enough that her voice dropped to a murmur.
"You think you're untouchable because you have a fancy book and good grades. You think you're special because the teachers like you."
She leaned in.
"But you're not special. You're nothing. You're the quiet girl in the corner that nobody would notice if you disappeared tomorrow."
Her hand closed around the strap of Maya's schoolbag and yanked it off her shoulder.
The bag swung free and before Maya could reach for it, Priya had already pulled it out of her reach.
"Let's see what's in here."
"Give it back."
"Or what?"
Priya was already unzipping it. Rumi and Sadia crowded in, peering over her shoulder. A pencil case, a notebook and the book.
Priya pulled it out — the black matte cover, the silver lettering, the spine perfectly uncreased.
"Here it is," she said, holding it up. "The famous book that made her think she was special."
She flipped it open.
"Don't." Maya's voice was quiet but something in it had changed.
Priya looked up. "Or....What?"
"I said don't."
"Don't what?" Priya's smile widened. "Turn the page or don't look at your precious little book?"
She turned a page, then another. "...What are you going to do about it, Maya? Cry, run to a teacher? Tell on me?"
She turned another page with the same careless indifference, the book's spine cracking beneath her fingers.
Then without glancing at its contents, she closed it halfway and held it out by one corner, letting it dangle loosely from her fingertips as though it —were some worthless scrap of paper.
"You know what I think? I think someone gave this to you. Someone important, someone you don't deserve."
She smiled. "And I think it would be a shame if something happened to it."
Ohhhh. Yama's voice was no longer drowsy. It was awake, wide awake. Did she just threaten you? And you're just standing there?
"Because if I move, I will hurt her."
Yama laughed. Oh, I know. I know you will. That's what I'm waiting for. But hurt her how, Maya? Hurt her a little? Or hurt her so badly she never speaks again?
"Yama."
I'm just asking.
"You're not just asking."
I'm asking with enthusiasm. That's different.
"...Go back to sleep."
Not a chance. This is the most interesting thing that's happened all week and do you know what I would do if I were in control right now?
"...No."
Yama leaned closer, her blue eyes bright and hungry, I'd take the book back first.
Then I'd take something of hers in return, nothing too much, just something small enough for her to dismiss, yet important enough for her to notice its absence.
Something she'd desperately wish she could get back. Perhaps a finger. Maybe a hand. But then again, why should I stop there?
She took something that she had no right to take. And I want her to understand what that feels like.
"Yama."
What? I'm being reasonable. I'm offering options.
"You're being you."
That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Maya turned toward Rumi. Without raising her voice or showing the slightest hint of irritation, she held out her hand. "I'd like my book back, please."
Sadia hesitated, just for a heartbeat, then she laughed. "Hey, look at her, Priya!"
She whispered, nudging her friend while keeping her eyes fixed on Maya. "Did you see the way she looked at you? I swear, I've never seen anything like it. It was more like…"
She let out a disbelieving laugh. "I don't know how to explain it. It was as if you weren't even worth getting angry at.
Like whatever you said — was so insignificant to her that she couldn't even be bothered to react. Honestly, that might be even more insulting than if she'd actually yelled at you."
Priya's jaw tightened, her expression darkening as she shot her friend a sharp, warning glance. "Shut up."
She moved toward a bucket sitting on the landing — the kind the cleaning staff used filled with gray water.
Her lips curled into a faint, spiteful smile. Without warning, she raised the bucket and tipped its contents over Maya.
The water struck Maya squarely in the chest.The sudden cold soaked through her white shirt in an instant, spreading across the fabric and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
Some of the water splashed across her face —trickling down her cheeks and chin, while damp strands of hair clung to her forehead.
She stood there, while the water ran down her legs and darkened the concrete beneath her.
Priya laughed. "There,now you look like everyone else." Rumi laughed, loud like it was all a joke.
Maya's glasses had fogged. She reached up and took them off, she wiped them on the sleeve of her shirt and put them back on.
Sadia had been leaning against the wall — the whole time, arms folded, watching but now she straightened. ".... You know what I think? I think she's faking."
Priya turned. "What?"
Sadia walked forward, stopping beside Priya.
"The quiet thing, the calm thing. I think she's just pretending to be mysterious because she does not have anything interesting to say, because she is empty."
She looked at Maya. "I bet there's nothing inside her, just — blank like a doll."
Rumi laughed. "Yeah, have you seen the gloves? She never takes them off — not even in summer. What's wrong with her hands? "
"Are they hideous?"
"Maybe she burned them."
"Maybe she cut herself."
Maya stood in the middle of it, dripping wet, she did not react, not once.
She stood there — the way she had stood in the reception hall on her first night in the Sunayana mansion, when every brother had stared at her like a stranger.
Priya turned toward Maya, her lips curling into a look of utter disdain." Absolutely pathetic. I have seen fools with more dignity, cowards with more courage.
Honestly, I expected nothing from you, you little rat — and somehow, you've still managed to fall below even that."
Maya held out her hand, her expression growing colder by the second.
"Give me back my book. I'm not going to repeat myself a third time, so hand it over."
Sadia tightened her grip on the book, she lifted her chin and met Maya's gaze.
"No. Never. If I can not have something, then neither can anyone else. Do you understand?
Once I've decided that I do not want you to have something, I won't let you have it." She suddenly lifted the book, a defiant smirk spreading across her face.
"Fine, fine." she sneered. "If you want it back so badly, go ahead and take it."
Before Maya could react, Sadia flung the book away, sending it crashing onto the wet concrete floor.
It landed on its spine, the pages splayed open, soaking up the water, the ink beginning to run, the cover bending, the silver lettering smearing.
Priya looked down at the book lying on the wet floor. Instead of picking it up, she stepped on it, pressing her foot hard against the cover.
Her shoe left a clear footprint on it and some of the pages underneath became crumpled. She lifted her foot and looked down at the damaged book with a satisfied smile.
"There, now it matches you. Useless, worthless."
Somewhere behind Maya's eyes, a voice began to laugh.
Ohhh, she breathed. Her eyes widened, glittering with a mixture of astonishment and realization.
Ohhhh, you are enjoying this. Do not even think about denying it, I can see it. You know you have that look on your face.
That absolutely infuriating, perfectly innocent look that you wear whenever you are doing —something you know you shouldn't be enjoying.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice as though she were about to expose a scandalous secret to the entire world.
Let me guess — You're going to look at me with those innocent eyes, tilt your head and ask me what on earth I'm talking about.
Then you'll pretend to be confused, even a little offended, because how dare I suggest that —someone as quiet as Maya could possibly take pleasure in something like this?
"No," Maya said quietly. "I'm not enjoying it."
You are. You are standing there, letting them do whatever they please — and you haven't even bothered to move. Why are you letting them do this to you?
Answer me, Maya, why are you letting them do this? You could stop them, you know, easily.
You could have stopped them the moment Priya touched your bag, could have ended this whole little performance in five seconds.
Two thin girls and one coward. Two seconds for the tall one. One for the other. The third would run before you even looked at her.So why didn't you?
Maya's gaze remained fixed on the ruined book.
"Because it's not worth it."
Not worth it?
"Yes."
They took your bag, they destroyed the book.
"...Yes."
And you're telling me that's not worth it?
"There's nothing to fight here. This is just noise. Noise from cheap people who mistake their loud mouths for power . If I wanted to, I could end this entire situation in seconds.
But that would require effort, and effort requires a reason. So, why would I waste my time proving something to people whose opinions mean —nothing to me?
If making me the subject of their jokes is the only way they can make themselves feel important, then, let them have their moment.
I have no intention of fighting for the approval."
Yama was silent for a moment. Then, slowly — so slowly that Maya felt it more than heard it — she began to smile.
You're not sparing them because they're beneath you. You're sparing them because you're afraid of what happens if you don't.
Maya's fingers curled against her palm — just slightly. "You're wrong."
Am I?
"You are."
Then prove it. Go on. Yama's voice was almost tender now. Take one step toward them — just one and let me watch what happens.
You won't hurt them. I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to let yourself feel it. For one second.
Let the part of you that wants to break them exist and see what it does. And — stop burying every ugly feeling beneath that familiar silence of yours.
Silence.
But you won't because you're afraid. Afraid of what I'll do if you let me help, afraid of what I —might become when you stop holding me back.
A faint smile touched her lips, but there was nothing warm about it.
Afraid that, the moment I will cross a line you've spent your entire life believing should never be crossed.
Priya stepped forward.
"You think you're untouchable because you don't react but you're not."
She reached into her pocket. "You're weak and I'm going to prove it." She pulled out a small —plastic bottle — clear, half-full, with a faint label.
Rumi's eyes widened. "Priya—"
"Shut up."
"...Priya, that's—"
"I said shut up."
She unscrewed the cap. "I'm going to ruin you." She raised the bottle and poured it.
The ink hit Maya's face, It ran down her forehead, into her eyes, down her cheeks like dark tears. It dripped onto her white shirt, staining the fabric, bleeding into the collar.
Maya stood there, while the ink ran down her chin. Priya laughed.
"There, now everyone can see what you really are, ugly." She dropped the empty bottle. "Just like your book.
Did you honestly think filling your head with pretty words would make you any less pathetic?"
Maya blinked once. The ink stung. It burned. It blurred her vision, she could not see clearly.
Priya stepped back, admiring her work. "There
.....That's better."
She looked at Maya. At the ink dripping from her chin in slow, dark trails, at the ruined gloves, their surfaces stained beyond recognition.
Priya drew a quiet breath, then she turned away.
"Let's go. " She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and started walking, her footsteps echoing softly against the floor.
The others exchanged brief glances.One of them looked back at Maya as though they were waiting for her to say something.
Maya's head was slightly lowered, her gaze fixed on the ground.
A loose strand of hair had fallen across her face, partially concealing her expression. Priya looked back over her shoulder.
"See you tomorrow, Maya." Priya didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked away. The others followed, one after another.
Their voices gradually returning as they moved toward the corridor.
[ A FEW MOMENT LATER ]
The bathroom was large and quiet,the sinks were set into a long polished counter, each one fitted with a mirror that ran from the counter all the way to the ceiling.
A row of tall windows let in the late morning light, filtering it through frosted glass. It smelled faintly of lavender soap and water.
The door clicked shut behind Maya.
She walked to the far end of the counter, the sink furthest from the door and set her bag down on the marble.
She looked up. Her hair clung to her forehead in dark strands. Her white shirt was ruined — black streaks bleeding down the front.
Her tie was stained beyond saving. Her gloves were soaked through, fabric shining with ink but her face was worse. She looked like something that had crawled out of the dark.
Maya stared at her reflection for a moment. Then she turned her attention to her bag, she unzipped it, her fingers fumbled for a second before she found the hidden compartment.
From it, she drew out a pair of gloves.These were different from the ones she wore now. She set them carefully on the counter beside the sink. The ink-soaked gloves clung to her skin.
She placed the ruined gloves beside the clean ones and reached immediately for the new pair.
Her hands disappeared beneath the dark cloth.
Only then did she look up.
She turned on the tap, cold water rushed out, she cupped her hands beneath it and leaned forward.
She began to wash her face.
The ink came away slowly. Stubbornly. It clung to her skin, smeared across her cheeks, bled down her neck no matter how many times she rinsed.
The water in the sink turned gray, then black. She rinsed again and again. The ink faded. Her skin slowly returned — pale and clean beneath the water.
But a faint shadow remained at the edges of her jaw, a ghost of the stain that refused to leave.She dried her face slowly, the towel moving across her skin in unhurried strokes.
She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, without looking away from her own reflection she spoke. "Yama."
Silence.
"Yama, I know you're awake."
A pause. Then — a lazy stir somewhere deep in the back of her mind. Like a cat stretching after a long nap. Mmmm?
Maya folded the paper towel once and set it on the counter. "The bullying, what did you think of it?"
What do you mean?
"I mean, did you enjoy it? You need a dopamine spike. Constantly. It is the only thing that keeps you quiet. So I am asking you honestly — did it give you what you needed?"
Yama stared at her, then she laughed, a offended little laugh.
The kind a person makes when they have been accused.What? What kind of question is that? You are misunderstanding me. Completely misunderstanding me.
She leaned closer, You think I enjoyed that?
"I'm not assuming anything. I'm asking."
Yama's expression shifted, the laugh fading into something flatter — almost offended. You are misunderstanding me, Maya.
"Explain it to me, then."
How would bullying give me a dopamine spike? That's — that's beneath me. That's petty. That's boring. Two thin girls and one coward?
She made a dismissive sound.That's not a spike. That's a flicker. A tiny, pathetic little flicker. Small things don't spike anything for me. Small people don't either.
There's nothing to enjoy in watching three girls with borrowed confidence throw water at someone who could kill them with a spoon."
😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚
Maya's lips curved — just barely. Just enough to be dangerous.
"Is that so?"
Yes. That's so.
Maya turned away from the mirror and picked up her bag. Her voice was soft. Almost gentle.
"I find that hard to believe."
Believe what you want.
"You enjoyed it. I know you did."
I did not.
"You wanted to break them."
That's different.
"Is it?"
Yes. Yama's voice sharpened. Wanting to do something and enjoying it are two different things. I wanted to break them because it would have been logical. Because it would have been clean. Because they deserved it.
But I didn't enjoy watching them do that to you. That — she paused, searching for the word — that was just ugly. Cheap. Boring.
Maya said nothing. She zipped her bag closed and slipped the strap over her shoulder.
Yama huffed.
You know what actually gives me a spike?
"What?"
Bungee jumping.
Maya blinked.
Ten rounds. Minimum. Off the highest platform they have. That's a spike.
Maya turned toward the door. "So that's what it takes?"
That's what it takes.
"Then I'll take you."
Yama went very still.
What?
"This afternoon. After school. I'll take you bungee jumping."
Silence. Then — a sound Maya had not heard in a very long time. A bright, delighted, childlike laugh.
Really?
"Really."
You promise?
"I promise."
You're not lying?
"I'm not lying."
You never lie. You never lie. Oh — oh, I'm so happy. I'm so —
Yama was laughing, jumping, spinning somewhere deep in Maya's mind — the way a child laughs when they have been promised something they have wanted for a very long time.
Ten rounds! You said ten!
"I said minimum ten."
Twenty! Let's do twenty!
"We'll see."
Twenty!
"We'll see."
Twenty, Maya. Twenty.
Maya opened the bathroom door. The corridor was quiet. Empty.
"Alright."
Really?
"Really. Now — sleep."
What?
"Sleep. I have class."
But —
"You'll need your energy for this afternoon."
Yama paused. Then — slowly, grudgingly — she began to settle.
Fine. Fine. But you promised.
"I promised."
You better not forget.
"I won't."
You better not.
"I won't."
Okay. Okay. I'm going. I'm going. But only because I'm happy. Not because you told me to.
"Of course."
Goodnight, Maya.
"Goodnight, Yama."
And then — slowly, like a flame being banked for the night — Yama faded.
The garden inside Maya's mind stilled. The spider lilies swayed once, twice — and then went quiet.
Maya stepped out of the bathroom and into the corridor.
The hallway was long and pale, lined with tall windows that let in the late morning light. Students passed her in both directions — some laughing, some hurrying, some glancing at her for half a second before looking away.
She walked.
Her face was clean. Her hair was still damp. Her shirt was still ruined. Her tie was still stained. Her gloves were new — dark, clean, open at the fingertips.
She looked like a girl who had been through something. But no one looked long enough to notice.
She reached her classroom.
She stopped at the door.
Through the glass, she could see them — Priya and Rumi and Sadia, already seated, already whispering, already laughing at something that wasn't funny.
Maya watched them for a moment. Her expression did not change.
Then she opened the door and walked inside.