The first scream didn't come from anger.
It came from shock.
Shree turned just in time to see a student stumble backward near the lockers, crashing into another group. Books scattered across the floor. Someone cursed loudly.
"What's happening?" a girl whispered.
Before anyone could answer, another push came — harder this time.
The corridor exploded.
Voices rose from every direction.
"You think you can insult me?"
"I didn't even talk to you!"
A senior boy shoved a junior against the railing. Someone else jumped in. Another followed.
Chaos spread faster than sense.
Shree's eyes searched instinctively.
And then she saw her.
Richa.
Standing near the corner with her group — Neha, Tiya, and Alisha — whispering urgently. Their eyes were fixed not on the fight…
…but on Shree.
A chill ran through her spine.
This is planned.
A boy stumbled toward her suddenly, pushed from behind. He collided with her shoulder sharply.
Pain shot through her arm.
"Hey!" she snapped.
Before she could move, another body slammed into her side.
She lost balance and hit the locker hard.
The impact knocked the breath from her chest.
"Shree!" someone shouted.
Ryan.
He had just come from the staircase and saw her hit.
His face changed instantly.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" he yelled, pushing through the crowd.
But the situation had already gone wild.
Two seniors were shouting. One grabbed another's collar. A chair scraped violently across the floor.
Someone screamed.
Shree straightened slowly, pain pulsing through her shoulder — and something inside her snapped.
Not rage.
Focus.
Her body moved before her mind did.
When a boy lunged toward Ryan blindly, she stepped forward.
Blocked.
Twisted.
Pushed him aside with clean precision.
The movement was fast — sharp — controlled.
Gasps filled the corridor.
"Did you see that?!"
"She knows fighting!"
Another boy rushed in.
Shree didn't hesitate this time.
She ducked, spun, swept his leg just enough to unbalance him. He fell back, shocked more than hurt.
The crowd froze.
Then erupted.
"Oh my god!"
"That was insane!"
Even Richa's friends stared wide-eyed.
"Since when can she do that?" Tiya whispered.
Neha swallowed. "That wasn't normal…"
More students backed away — not in fear, but awe.
Shree stood between Ryan and the chaos now.
Breathing steady.
Eyes sharp.
"Back off," she said firmly. "This ends now."
But chaos doesn't listen.
A senior charged again — angry, humiliated.
Ryan stepped forward, but Shree stopped him with one hand.
"Don't," she said quietly.
Then she moved.
Fast.
Clean.
Precise.
Not wild.
Not cruel.
Just controlled force.
She blocked, redirected, pushed attackers away — never striking unnecessarily, only disabling motion.
Every movement screamed training.
The corridor went mad.
Girls screamed.
Boys shouted.
Phones were raised before teachers yelled for them to stop.
From the far end, a group of boys stood frozen — Aryan among them.
He hadn't moved once.
He watched.
Not with excitement.
Not with fear.
With something deeper.
Respect.
"That's… incredible," one of the boys beside him muttered.
Aryan didn't reply.
His eyes followed her movements — calm inside chaos, unshaken, fearless.
He had never seen someone fight to protect, not to dominate.
A sudden shove from behind caught Shree off guard.
She hit the railing again — harder this time.
Pain flared sharply.
Ryan shouted her name and grabbed the boy's collar instinctively.
"Don't touch her!"
That's when the sound came.
A bottle shattered near the stairs.
A sharp cry followed.
A thin red streak appeared on the floor — not dramatic, but horrifying in its silence.
Everything stopped for half a second.
Then panic erupted.
"Get back!"
"Call security!"
"Someone's hurt!"
Teachers ran in from both directions.
Security guards followed.
Students scattered in confusion.
Shree stood in the center — uniform creased, breath steady, eyes still alert.
She hadn't lost control.
But the scene looked dangerous.
And scenes don't explain themselves.
Richa stepped forward suddenly.
Tears streamed down her face perfectly.
"She attacked them!" she cried. "She was fighting everyone! I was scared!"
Her friends hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes, ma'am… she was very aggressive."
Shree turned slowly toward them.
Her voice was calm.
"You planned this."
Richa shook her head violently. "Why would I?"
Teachers exchanged looks.
Whispers returned instantly.
"She really fought back…"
"She's dangerous…"
"She's trained…"
Ryan stepped forward. "That's not true! She was protecting—"
"Enough," a teacher said sharply.
She turned to Shree.
"Miss Malhotra," she said firmly,
"you will report to the principal's office immediately."
The corridor fell silent again.
Aryan's gaze followed Shree as she picked up her bag slowly.
Not pity.
Not judgment.
Admiration.
As she walked past him, their eyes met for one brief second.
He said nothing.
But she knew.
He had seen who she really was.
Behind her, even Richa's friends stood unsettled.
Their victory didn't feel victorious anymore.
Shree walked alone toward the office.
Pain throbbed in her shoulder.
But her spine stayed straight.
Because she hadn't fought out of anger.
She had fought to survive.
And now —
the school would decide whether strength was a crime.