Rhea's Pov
Academic League Round One was announced like a threat.
Auditorium.
Selected teams.
Teachers watching like judges at a trial.
Front benchers arrived early—confident, colour-coded notes, matching smug expressions.
We arrived… normal.
Neil looked tense. Not shaking—but tight. Like a wire pulled too far.
I sat down and immediately regretted every life choice I'd made in the last 24 hours.
Lower back pain.
Headache.
Irritation at existence.
Great.
Samar whispered, "You okay?"
I glared at the stage. "If someone breathes wrong, I might commit a felony."
Kabir glanced at me.
Once.
Then again.
He didn't ask anything.
But he slid his water bottle toward me without a word.
I paused.
Then took it.
Face-Off Begins
First round: rapid questions.
Front bench team buzzed in fast—half answers, full confidence.
Neil answered when it mattered. Clean. Accurate.
The scores stayed close.
Too close for comfort.
A front bencher snorted loudly after one question. "Guess luck still hasn't run out."
That's when Kabir snapped.
Just a little.
Enough.
"Focus on the question," he said sharply, eyes cold. "Not on us."
The hall went quiet.
Teachers looked up.
Neil blinked.
Samar straightened.
I smiled despite the cramps.
Kabir didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
Between Rounds
I shifted in my chair, annoyed at my own body for betraying me during something important.
Kabir leaned slightly closer—not obvious.
"You're not okay," he said quietly.
I scoffed. "I'm always like this."
He shook his head. "No. You're quieter. And meaner in a tired way."
I stared at him. "Wow. Rude and accurate."
He reached into his bag and placed something on the desk.
Painkiller.
Wrapped neatly.
"I carry it for my sister," he said, like it wasn't a big deal. "Take it if you want."
I hesitated. Then softened.
"Thanks," I muttered.
After a beat, I added, "Don't tell anyone."
He replied, deadpan, "I value my life."
Final Round
One question remained.
Winner takes the round.
The front bench buzzed in too early—wrong answer.
Neil's turn.
He froze.
Just for a second.
I saw it.
That old fear.
That whisper: Don't mess up.
Kabir leaned forward. "Neil."
Neil looked at him.
Kabir said, calm and steady, "You know this."
Neil inhaled.
Answered.
Correct.
The buzzer sounded.
We won.
Aftermath
Applause broke out—real this time.
Front bench smiles were gone.
One of them muttered, "This isn't over."
I stood up slowly, shoulders aching, patience thin.
"Good," I said. "Would've been boring otherwise."
Kabir glanced at me. "You should sit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you tell me what to do?"
"Since you're stubborn even when you're hurting," he replied.
I sat.
Annoyed.
Grateful.
Rhea's Thought (End Note)
Kabir didn't save the day.
Didn't make a speech.
Didn't ask questions I didn't want to answer.
He just noticed.
And sometimes—that's louder than anything else.
The rivalry had officially started.
Neil had officially stepped forward.
And me?
I was learning that the quiet ones
see everything.