“Slap me again, and I swear you’ll regret breathing.”

His voice was low, but the threat in it was clear.
Everyone had cleared the corridor. The tension was too thick, the danger too real. But Aanya didn’t flinch.

“I don’t regret the first one either,” she said, arms crossed. “Touch the professor again, and I’ll do worse.”

Arnav stepped closer, just an inch away now, his jaw tight, knuckles clenched. He could hear his boys whispering in the background—“Dude, break her.”
His ego demanded revenge.
His reputation needed it.
And yet… he did nothing. Just looked at her. Really looked.

Something in her eyes wasn’t scared.

Something inside him stilled—for the first time in years.