PART 1:
Kolkata always looked beautiful from a distance.
From far away, it was just glowing streetlights, old buildings, yellow taxis and the soft hum of the city breathing. But up close, it was loud, crowded, and filled with secrets — just like her.
Avni stood outside the tall iron gates of St.Alaric's Senior Secondary School, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Students passed her, laughing, pushing, talking about exams, crushes and weekend plans.
Normal lives.
She hadn't had one of those in years.
In her bag was a neatly folded admission letter with a name that wasn't hers.
Shree Malhotra.
Grade 12.
Transfer student.
That name was her shield.
Avni Lahiri— daughter of two people the world had been taught to hate — was supposed to be dead, forgotten, erased. And that was exactly how she wanted it.
She lifted her eyes toward the main building.
Tall. Elegant. Untouchable.
At the very top floor, behind dark glass windows, was the office of the man who ran this place.
Victor Valdan.
The principal.
The respected genius.
The monster.
Avni's jaw tightened.
"You don't even know who's walking into your world," she whispered under her breath.
The receptionist barely looked up as Avni stepped inside.
"Name?"
"Shree Malhotra," she said calmly.
The lie slid off her tongue easily — too easily.
"New admission?" the woman asked.
"Yes."
A few signatures later, she was given a schedule and directed down the long hallway toward her classroom. The walls were covered in awards, photos of brilliant students, and framed certificates praising the school's excellence.
A perfect cover.
Avni walked slowly, memorizing everything — exits, staircases, camera positions. Old habits from a life she wasn't supposed to remember.
When she reached Class 12-A, she paused before opening the door.
This is where it starts, she thought.
Not just school.
Not just pretending.
This was the first step toward finding the truth.
And revenge.
She opened the door.
Twenty pairs of eyes turned toward her.
The teacher looked up. "Yes?"
"I'm the new student," Avni said, straightening her back. "Shree Malhotra."
"Come in," the teacher smiled. "Everyone, welcome Shree."
As she walked to the empty seat near the window, Avni felt it — the strange mix of fear and thrill running through her veins.
They saw a quiet girl.
They didn't see the storm inside her.
Outside, the school bell rang.
And somewhere above them all, Victor Valdan sat in his office, unaware that the daughter of his greatest secret had just walked into his kingdom.
PART 2:
The classroom buzzed with whispers.
Everyone already knew.
A new student had joined.
The door opened quietly.
And suddenly, the noise died.
He walked in with the calm confidence of someone who had never needed to try to be important.
Neat uniform. Perfect posture. Sharp eyes.
The teacher smiled instantly.
"Class, this is our school topper. You've all heard his name. Please welcome… Aryan Sen."
A ripple went through the room.
Aryan Sen.
The boy every girl knew.
The boy no girl could reach.
His eyes didn't wander.
They never did.
He moved toward the only empty seat — beside Shree.
Richa Valdan stiffened from the front row.
Her fingers clenched.
Of all places…
Aryan sat down.
Shree felt his presence before she looked at him. Calm. Distant. Unreadable.
The teacher continued speaking, but the room wasn't listening.
Girls whispered.
Phones slid out.
Eyes followed him.
Aryan didn't notice.
Or pretended not to.
Shree turned slightly.
For a moment, their eyes met.
There was no warmth in his gaze.
No curiosity.
Just something sharp… like he was measuring her.
"You're new," he said quietly.
Shree nodded.
"Shree."
He studied her for half a second longer than necessary.
Then looked away.
Richa's nails dug into her palm.
She had waited months for Aryan to even look at her.
And this girl had walked in and stolen his attention in one minute.
From that moment, Shree felt it.
This school wasn't just hiding secrets.
It was hiding war.
And Aryan Sen was standing right in the middle of it.