For every person who tries to break your spirit, the universe will always compensate with something ready to help you rebuild.

The moment Riya walked through the front door of her house, the usual energetic bounce in her step was completely missing. Her shoulders were slumped, and her face carried a deeply heavy, udaas (sad) expression.

Her mother, Sarala, who saw her, immediately noticed the shift in her daughter's usually bubbly aura. Setting her work aside, she walked into the living room with a worried frown.

"Kya hua, Riya? Tera chehra itna utra hua kyun hai? Sab thik hai na?

(What happened, Riya? Why is your face so fallen? Is everything okay?)"

Unable to keep the pain to herself any longer, Riya sat her mother down and rapidly explained everything-that happened to isha and her mother neha.

Hearing the sheer injustice of the situation, Sarala's eyes flared with deep empathy and indignation. She felt incredibly bad for the mother and daughter.

"Yeh toh bohot hi galat hua! Aise kaise koi itna nishthur ho sakta hai?

(This is absolutely wrong! How can anyone be so heartless?)"

Without losing a single second, Sarala grabbed her phone and immediately dialed Neha's number. The moment Neha picked up, Sarala spoke with a voice full of unshakeable maternal strength.

"Neha, meri baat suno," Sarala said firmly, cutting through any polite hesitations.

"Yeh kabhi mat sochna ki tum is duniya mein akeli ho. Hum hamesha tumhare saath hain.Kuch bhi support chahiye emotional or legal, ya kisi bhi tarah ki madad chahiye ho-we are always supportive, and we are always available for you. Mera poora parivaar tumhare peeche khada hai.

(Listen to me, Neha. Don't ever think that you are alone in this world. We are always with you... My entire family is standing right behind you.)"

On the pads of her fingers, Neha wiped away a silent tear, a massive wave of relief washing over her heart. Receiving such a pure, unconditional assurance from Sarala felt incredibly good.

It was a gentle, beautiful reminder that not everyone in this pathetic world was cruel and power-hungry like the people she had inherited in the name of a family.

Ever since the tragic demise of Neha's own parents, her world had shrunk to just herself, Isha, and her fiercely loyal friend Deepali.

But today, feeling the weight of Sarala's words, she realized one more strong, protective shoulder was now permanently at their service.

A profound, peaceful calm settled over Neha, anchoring her spirit for the legal battle ahead.

Meanwhile, back at Shivansh's house, the atmosphere was entirely different, laced with a quiet, lingering warmth.

Shivansh was lying on his bed, quiet in his room amplfying the racing thoughts in his head. Unable to concentrate on his studies, he picked up his phone and opened WhatsApp.

He scrolled down until his eyes hit Isha's contact name. He tapped on it, opening her profile icon.

It was a beautiful, sun-kissed photograph of her. The golden light caught the soft contours of her face perfectly, making her look radiant, elegant, and timeless.

Unknowingly, a soft, incredibly tender smile spread across Shivansh's face. His thumbs moved instinctively across the screen, zooming into her display picture.

His gaze softened, full of pure warmth and unadulterated admiration. He slowly traced his fingers over the smooth glass screen, right over her image, as if trying to erase the memory of the heavy tears he had brushed away in the library.

With a quick click, he saved the photograph onto his phone's gallery. He stared at the saved picture for a long moment, a sudden, heavy blush creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks crimson.

"Thik ho jao, Isha..."
(Get better soon isha) Shivansh whispered into the quiet room, his voice a deep, private vow.

"Tears don't suit you at all. You look good quickly tossed his phone face-down onto his chest, covering his eyes with his forearm as his heart hammered wildly against his ribs.

The topper kid was officially falling, and he was falling fast.

The next morning at college, the heavy gray clouds from the previous days had finally cleared out.

As Isha walked into the classroom, she looked significantly better, her posture straight and her brilliant eyes brightening with a renewed sense of resilience. Seeing her bestie back in her element, Riya's heart swelled with absolute joy.

Before the first lecture commenced, Ragini mam walked into the classroom with an announcement. Given how incredibly active, vocal, and dynamic Riya was in all departmental affairs, Ragini mam officially appointed Riya as the new Class Representative (CR) of the CSE section.

It was a perfect choice. Riya was literally everywhere-whether it was effortlessly collaborating and volunteering during university fests, scanning and sharing assignment PDFs across the WhatsApp groups, or shamelessly begging the strict faculties for important exam questions, Riya managed it all.

The moment the professor left the room, Riya's inner mischievous spirit instantly took over. Desperate to flex her brand-new, glorious authoritative title before her bitter-sweet rival, she marched proudly over to the row where Yash was seated, her chin held high.

Slamming her hands playfully on his desk, Riya leaned in and sniffed the air dramatically.

"Mmm... kahin se toh jalne ki boo aa rahi hai! Kahin tum toh nahi, Yash?
(Mmm... I can smell something burning around here! Could that be you, Yash?)"

Yash slowly look up from his notebook, though a small, amused smirk tugged at his lips. He slowly leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Mere itne bure din nahi aaye ki main tumse jalu! Aur waise bhi, class mein sone waalon ko hum CR nahi maante karte.

(My days haven't turned that bad that I'd be jealous of you! And anyway, I don't consider people sleeping in class as CR)"

Riya gasped, throwing her hands up dynamically.

"Hello! Phir bhi CR bani toh hoon na?

(Hello! I still became the CR, didn't I?)

Watch your mouth, okay? Woh pehle ki baat hai, present mein dekho aur salami karo apni CR ki!

(That nap is in old days. Look at the present and salute your Class Representative!)"

Yash chuckled loudly, shaking his head. "Acha, CR ji? Maths ka ek formula poocha na, toh abhi ke abhi mooh band ho jayega tera!

(Oh really, Madam CR? If I ask you a single basic math formula right now, you'll be completely silenced!)"

Riya rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her waist confidently.

"Hello! I am incredibly good at math, unlike you. Class 12 mein, I scored 90% in mathematics, okay? Try me!"

Yash's eyes glinted with mischief as he trapped her in her own challenge.

"Acha ji? Chalo, then tell me-what is the formula for Compound Interest?"

Riya didn't even hesitate for a second. She proudly blurted out the first formula that popped into her head. "(PxTxR)/100!"

Yash instantly burst out into a loud, mocking roar of laughter, clapping his hands as the surrounding boys joined in.

"Pakdi gayi! Galat jawab!

(Caught red-handed! Wrong answer!)

Tune Simple Interest ka formula bataya hai, madam! Simple aur Compound Interest mein farak nahi pata, aur chali hain pure batch ki CR banne!

(You just gave the formula for Simple Interest, madam! You don't even know the difference between Simple and Compound interest, and you're out here trying to rule the class!)"

Riya's face flushed as she realized her massive blunder, but her fierce pride refused to let her back down.

She leaned over his desk, narrowing her eyes into a sharp, threatening glare, though a confident smirk remained on her lips.

"Banne nahi... mein bangayi hoon!

(I'm not trying to become the CR... I already am!)"

Riya countered smoothly, pointing a warning finger at him.

"And now, I am the official captain of this ship. So you better be careful, Yash. Bachke rehna mujhse!

(Watch your step around me!)"

Giving him one final, victorious smirk, she turned around, her hair flipping dynamically as she strutted back to her bench. Yash just watched her go, a wide, genuine laugh shaking his shoulders.

Later that evening, after the grueling lecture hours finally came to an end, the campus sports ground was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun.

Yash, looking to get some casual fitness in after a long day of sitting through coding labs, had dragged Shivansh out to the outdoor badminton court.

Shivansh, usually quiet and composed, had casually agreed, tossing his college bag by the net and picking up a standard campus racquet.

Yash stretched his arms confidently, bouncing on his toes.

"Chal, Shivansh. Just a friendly game for fitness, okay? Normal rally rakhenge.

(We'll keep a normal rally going.)"

But the moment the nylon shuttlecock was tossed into the air for the serve, a terrifying switch flipped inside Shivansh.

The quiet, disciplined topper boy completely vanished. In his place stood an absolute badminton demon.

Shivansh didn't just play; he launched a full-scale, remorseless tactical game. With insane footwork that left his sneakers squeaking aggressively against the court, he was in pure attack mode.

WHACK!

Before Yash could even register the first serve, Shivansh executed a lightning-fast, high-velocity jump smash that sent the shuttle whistling past Yash's ear, landing perfectly inside the baseline.

"1-0," Shivansh called out, his face completely expressionless, his eyes locked onto Yash like a hunter tracking prey.

Yash blinked, stunned. "Aree, thoda aaram se-"(Careful)

CRACK!

Next point, Shivansh rushed the net, intercepting Yash's desperate clear with a brutal, sharp net kill that slammed directly onto Yash's sneaker.

Then came a deceptive drop shot that had Yash lunging forward, completely losing his balance and tumbling onto the grass, followed immediately by a fierce backhand drive that zipped through the air like a missile.

Shivansh was showing absolutely zero remorse. He was slicing, smashing, and dominating the court with terrifying precision, while poor Yash was left gasping for breath, running side to side like a frantic chicken.

Finally, after Shivansh delivered a vicious, cross-court smash that sealed a brutal 21-3 defeat for the first set, Yash dropped his racquet entirely. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, panting heavily as sweat poured down his forehead.

He looked up at Shivansh, who hadn't even broken a proper sweat and was calmly spinning his racquet by the grip.

"Bhai! Jang par nahi ja rahe hain, thoda dheere khel!
(Brother! We aren't going to war, play a little slow!)" Yash yelled, dramatically clutching his chest as he gasped for air.

"Mujhe lagta hai tu shuttlecock se hi mera khoon kar dega!
(I feel like you'll literally murder me with the shuttlecock itself!)
What is this aggression, man?!"

Shivansh looked at his breathless friend, a proud, highly amused smirk playing on his lips. He slowly raised his hand, casually rubbing his fingers through his thick hair, completely giving off peak main-character energy.

"Dekh bhai, main toh aisa hi khelta hoon, (Look brother, I only play like this,)" Shivansh countered with a playful, arrogant shrug. He leaned on his racquet, his smirk widening.

"Tujhe hi apni game up karni padegi agar mujhe beat karna hai toh.

(You're the one who needs to up your game if you want to beat me.)"

Yash picked up his racquet, pointing it at him accusingly. "Next time, main tera palaa badal dunga, yaad rakhna!

(Next time, I'm changing your side, remember that!)"

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