Rhea’s POV

I was minding my own business, enjoying my Blue Lays like a civilized human, when two certified idiots—Aarav and Saanvi—dropped into the chairs across from me like they had been chased by the police.

Aarav smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Uh-oh. "Rhea Sharma… the fearless, the legendary, the bhagodi of our class."

Saanvi gasped dramatically. "She actually walked out of class just to avoid the front bench. Maan gaye guru!"

I rolled my eyes, crunching my chip loudly. "Shut up. I had important work."

Aarav raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Konsa kaam? NASA se call aaya tha kya? ‘Rhea, please, we need you to save our next space mission.’"

Saanvi giggled. "Or maybe Ambani called—‘Beta, business sambhal le.’"

I snorted. "Haan, haan, bilkul. Tum dono jealous ho kyunki tumhe front bench pe ghulaam ki tarah baithna pada aur mujhe full VIP exit mila."

Aarav placed a hand on his heart. "VIP exit?! Bhabhi ji, aap bhaag ke canteen aaye the! VIP log aise jhoolte hue bag leke sneak out nahi karte!"

Saanvi nodded. "Aur sir bola tha ‘Rhea, sit on the front bench,’ and madam ne kya kiya? Full attitude me ‘Nope’ bola aur nikal li! Matlab koi sharam, koi haya?"

I shrugged, stuffing more Lays in my mouth. "Meri life, mere rules. ."

Aarav smirked. "Haan haan, kyunki waha se teacher ki shakal dikh jaati hai na!"

Saanvi burst out laughing. "And unke thook bhi!"

I gagged. "EXACTLY! Tumhe nahi lagta teachers specially front benchers ko target karke extra spit karte hain?"

Aarav made a disgusted face. "Brooo! Biology sir ka toh alag hi scene hai, unka thook T20 match jaisa hota hai—har direction me jaata hai!"

Saanvi groaned. "Mujhe ab nausea aa raha hai, yaar!"

I smirked. "Good. Now shut up and let me eat my Lays in peace."

Aarav suddenly snatched my packet and held it above his head. "Naah, tere jaise bhagodon ke haath se chips ki izzat chheen leni chahiye!"

I gasped. "Aarav, tujhe zinda nahi chhodungi!"

Saanvi sat back, happily watching as I launched myself at Aarav, trying to retrieve my stolen chips. Teenagers behaving like adults? Never heard of them.

Just as I was about to snatch my Lays back from Aarav’s evil clutches, a peon walked into the canteen, scanned the room, and then—unfortunately—landed his gaze on me.

"Rhea Sharma?" he called out, his tone making it clear this was not a lottery-winning announcement.

I froze mid-reach. "…Yeah?"

"Mr. Rathore is calling you to his office." He said

Aarav and Saanvi, the useless dosts they were, immediately exchanged looks before bursting into the most sarcastic, evil smiles I had ever seen.

Saanvi clutched her chest like she was heartbroken. "And just like that… our brave rebel has fallen."

Aarav sighed dramatically. "Mere dost, it was nice knowing you. Bhagwan teri aatma ko shanti de."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, losers. It’s probably nothing."

Aarav smirked. "Haan haan, bilkul. Rathore sir bas tujhe puchne bula rahe hain ki tujhe front bench se allergy kaise ho gayi?Medical emergency hai kya?"

Saanvi nodded seriously. "Maybe he just wants to appreciate your boldness. You know, Wah Rhea! What a fantastic display of ‘GET ME OUT OF HERE’ energy!’"

I groaned, standing up. "Both of you deserve to be thrown on the front bench for life."

Aarav smirked, waving my Lays at me. "Go, Rhea, go! And if you don’t return… can I keep your chips?"

I pointed a warning finger at him. "Tu khaya na, toh Rathore se pehle main teri jaan le loongi."

Saanvi just laughed, waving dramatically. "Goodbye, dear friend! Stay strong!"

Ignoring their nonsense, I sighed and dragged myself out of the canteen, already dreading whatever Mr Rathore had in store for me.

I knocked on the office door, hoping—praying—that Mr. Rathore had summoned me for something completely unrelated to my minor act of rebellion in class. Maybe he needed help with… I don’t know, decoding teenage slang?

"Enter," came a deep, firm voice.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped in. And there he was—Mr. Veer Rathore, the new teacher, the one I had definitely not given the warmest welcome to earlier in class.

Great. Just great.

I half-expected him to be angrily flipping through a rule book, preparing to throw school policies at my face. Instead, he calmly closed his register and leaned back in his chair, watching me with a blank expression.

Me? I was not watching him. Nope. Not at all. I was totally admiring the office interior. Because obviously, the wooden shelves and aesthetic warm lighting were way more interesting than the six-foot-something, intimidatingly good-looking teacher sitting behind the desk.

The office was simple—dark wood furniture, a well-organized bookshelf, a black leather chair. No unnecessary clutter. Everything in its place. Kinda like him—too neat, too proper, too serious.

"So, done staring?"

My head snapped toward him. His voice was neutral, but his raised eyebrow screamed ‘Are you dumb?’

I cleared my throat. "Uh… nice office."

He didn’t blink. "Nice excuse to avoid eye contact."

…Okay, wow.

"Sit," Mr. Rathore said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated for a second before dragging myself to the chair across from him.

"Now," he leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze locked onto mine. "Explain. Why did you walk out of my class?"

I swallowed. "Sir… actually—"

"Don’t waste my time." He cut me off before I could even begin my excuse. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to make me sit up straighter. "Do you think biology is that simple? Or did you just take medical because it looks good on your resume?"

I blinked. "What?"

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Because according to me, science isn’t just a subject. It requires your heart and soul. And judging by your previous results—" He paused, flipping through a file on his desk, probably my academic record. "—you’re not exactly excelling in it."

I clenched my fists. Okay, excuse me?

Sure, I wasn’t a science topper, but did he have to say it like that?

The lecture had been going on for what felt like hours.

I had mentally checked out five minutes ago.

So, I did what every student does in this situation—I nodded at random intervals and muttered the occasional "Okay, sir," hoping it would make him stop sooner.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

"Do you even understand the importance of what I’m saying?" Mr. Rathore’s deep, stern voice snapped my attention back to him.

I nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

He wasn’t convinced. His sharp eyes narrowed as he leaned slightly forward, his fingers tapping against the desk. "Then explain. What did I just say?"

…Crap.

"Uh…" I hesitated, trying to recall at least one line from his never-ending rant. "Something about… science needing passion?"

His jaw clenched. "Unbelievable."

I gave him an innocent smile. "Sir, aap itna gussa kyun kar rahe ho? Heart attack ho jayega."

He exhaled sharply and shook his head like I was the biggest disappointment of his life. "This isn’t a joke, Rhea. Science is not just a subject you pick because it looks good on your academic record. It requires dedication—heart and soul. And judging by your previous results l—" He flipped through a file on his desk, his gaze hard. "You’re not exactly excelling in it."

Sure, I wasn’t a science genius!

"I’m trying," I defended, folding my arms.

"Trying?" He scoffed. "Walking out of a class within ten minutes is trying?"

I bit my lip. "It’s… a different approach?"

He gave me the most unimpressed look. "Do you even want to be in this stream?"

That made me pause. Of course, I didn’t. If I had it my way, I’d be in literally any other stream. But my parents? They had already decided that I was going to be a doctor—end of discussion. And saying that out loud? Not happening.

So, I said the safest thing possible. "Yes, sir."

He didn’t look convinced. "Then start acting like it."

I sighed, staring at the desk. Maybe if I looked pathetic enough, he’d let me go.

Unfortunately, Mr. Rathore wasn’t the sympathetic type.

"You need punishment" he suddenly said, his voice firm. "Don’t you think so?"

…Wait. What?

My brain short-circuited.

Punishment?

I blinked, caught completely off guard. See, I had read way too many Wattpad books, and according to those books, the word punishment meant something very… different. Something intense. Like—

A dark room.

Him stepping closer.

His deep voice dropping lower.

“You’ve been bad, sweetheart.”

OH. MY. GOD.

A sudden heat crept up my neck as my delusional brain went full Wattpad mode. No. Stop it, Rhea. This is real life. He’s a teacher, not a mafia boss. Get a grip.

But before my fully unhinged thoughts could spiral further, a sharp voice yanked me back to reality.

"RHEA."

I jolted so hard I almost fell off my chair.

Mr. Rathore was staring at me like I was the dumbest person alive. His sharp, no-nonsense tone made it very clear that my delusions were not welcome here.

"I am asking you something," he said, his voice tight with irritation. "And I want an answer."

I swallowed hard. "Uh… punishment?"

His eyes darkened. "Yes, Rhea. Punishment. You know, consequences for your actions? Discipline??"

I shrank back. "No, no. I got it."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Good. Because walking out of a class like that deserves consequences."

I sighed. "Sir, with all due respect, don’t you think detention is a little too… much?"

His expression didn’t change. "Who said anything about detention?"

I blinked. "Wait. Then…?"

His smirk was almost evil. "You’re going to sit on the front bench for the next month."

My eyes widened. "WHAT?!"

"You heard me."

A month? A month on the front bench? In every class? That was basically social suicide!

I pouted. "Sir, aapko maza aa raha hai na?"

For a split second, I could’ve sworn his lips twitched. But then, his usual cold expression was back. "Tumhe kya lagta hai?"

"Sir, no offense, but this is cruel and unusual punishment," I argued, my hands flailing dramatically. "I mean, what about my human rights?"

His unimpressed stare didn’t waver. "I wasn’t aware walking out of class was a human right."

I groaned, slumping in my chair. "Sir, please. I’ll do anything else. You want an essay? Done. Extra assignments? Fine. But this? This is torture!"

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you wanted to be in this stream?"

I bit my lip. "I do, but—"

"Then sit where I tell you to sit," he said simply.

I gaped at him. "Sir, front benchers get targeted by teachers! I’ll have to answer questions! I might even—" I shuddered.

He didn’t even blink. "Good. Maybe that will keep you awake in class."

I groaned again, ready to drop dead right there. "Sir, please!"

"No."

I pouted. "Sir, have you ever heard of mercy?"

"Have you ever heard of discipline?" he countered.

Touché.

I gritted my teeth, realizing there was no winning this. "So, nothing I say is going to change your mind?"

"Absolutely nothing."

I scowled, pushing my chair back. "Fine. Front bench it is. But just so you know, if I die from this humiliation, I’m haunting this office."

"I’ll be waiting," he said dryly.

I muttered under my breath as I stomped towards the door, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. The moment I stepped out, I clutched my chest.

What the hell was that?

I had gone in expecting a lecture, maybe a scolding, but this? This was psychological warfare. The way he talked, the way he shut down my arguments so effortlessly—he was too good at this.

And the worst part?

My Wattpad brain needed to shut up, because it was already making this situation way more interesting than it needed to be. was a lost cause?This man had no chill..

Hello butterflies 🦋!

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