The classroom was silent, save for the hum of the projector. Isha sat stiffly in her seat, her face unreadable but her knuckles white from clutching the edge of her desk. I could tell she was holding onto the faint hope that she could still worm her way out of this.
"So, you're still saying you weren't involved?" I asked, pacing slowly across the front of the class. My voice was calm, measured, but it carried an edge. "Even though the metadata links the image to your phone, and even though we can pinpoint its exact creation time?"
Isha lifted her chin defiantly, though her voice quivered. "I didn't do it! You can't prove anything with just blurry images and technical nonsense."
I paused, pretending to consider her words. "You're right," I admitted. "Blurry images aren't exactly solid proof. Which is why I didn't rely on them." I turned to the laptop, clicking on the next slide.
The projector whirred, and a new image appeared on the screen—a sharp, clear still from the parking lot CCTV footage.
The room erupted in gasps.
The figure in the photo was unmistakable. The clothes were the same as the blurry image, but now they were clear enough to identify. Even the bag and shoes.
Isha's face drained of color.
"Recognize these?" I asked, my voice icy. I let the question linger before pointing at her. "The bag? The shoes? They're identical to what you're wearing right now. And yes, I purposely made those images blurry at first, just to hear what you'd have to say."
Isha stammered, shaking her head. "I-It's not me! I… anyone could have similar shoes or a bag!"
I chuckled darkly. "Oh, of course," I said mockingly. "What a coincidence that someone with your exact build just happened to be there at the exact time the photo was taken."
She opened her mouth to argue, but I raised a hand to silence her.
"Let's not forget," I continued, "that metadata doesn't just store information about the photo itself. It also keeps details like… oh, I don't know, Wi-Fi names."
I clicked to the next slide. The screen displayed a list of Wi-Fi connections, the culprit's clearly highlighted.
"And wouldn't you know it?" I said, pointing to the screen. "The photo was uploaded while connected to a network called Isha's 5G. Really creative, by the way." I shot her a taunting smile. "Anything else you'd like to try?"
Isha's composure cracked. Tears welled in her eyes, and her hands trembled as she fumbled for words. "I… I didn't mean for it to go this far!" she cried, her voice breaking.
"Oh, now you didn't mean it," I said, my tone dripping with mock sympathy. "What exactly did you mean, Isha ? Did you mean for Rena to be humiliated? Did you mean for rumors to spread about her? Or were you just having fun ruining someone's life?"
She sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
I stepped closer, my voice turning sharp. "Don't you dare start crying now. You're not the victim here. Did you cry when you were spreading those pictures? Did you feel bad for Rena when you watched her sit in the corner of the classroom, trying to avoid everyone's stares?"
Her sobs grew louder, but I wasn't done.
"Your tears are just a sorry attempt to gain pity," I spat. "But let me tell you, Isha —you don't deserve any. You're a girl too, aren't you? You should know what it feels like to be targeted like that. Or did you just not care?"
Rena stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Ashan, that's enough!" she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
I turned to glare at her, my eyes sharp. "I told you not to stop me, didn't I? So please, sit down."
Rena hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. She sat back down reluctantly, her eyes filled with worry.
As Isha continued to sob, one of the boys in the class—Rohit—stood up and approached me. "Ashan," he said quietly, "that's enough. You've made your point."
I turned to him, my jaw tight. "Enough? You think this is enough? I'm not done yet."
"She's already broken down," he said firmly, his hand resting on my shoulder. "If you keep going, you're no better than her."
I stood at the front of the classroom, staring down at Isha as she tried to pull herself together. Her tears glistened on her cheeks, but her defiance still clung stubbornly to her trembling frame. The class was deathly silent, everyone too afraid to intervene.
"Since it's already proven now," I said, my tone icy, "I think I'll report this to the principal after class. And while I'm at it, I'll share this presentation too. I don't give a damn if you're suspended or expelled."
The weight of my words hung in the air like a noose. Isha froze, her eyes widening in horror.
Just as I was about to continue, Rohit stood up. "Ashan, I said that's enough!" he snapped, his voice louder and firmer than before.
I turned to him slowly, my gaze sharp. Before anyone could react, I grabbed his collar, pulling him close. "Don't you dare interrupt me again," I hissed, my voice dangerously low. "I'm not done with what I was saying."
Rohit's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. I shoved him away, and he stumbled a few steps, his expression caught between anger and disbelief.
Turning back to Isha, I crossed my arms and smirked. "But you know," I said mockingly, "I could reconsider. If you beg for Rena's forgiveness—right here, right now—I might not go through with it."
Isha looked up at me, her face pale and streaked with tears. "I'm… I'm sorry," she whispered weakly, her voice barely audible.
I scoffed. "Not to me, dumbass," I snapped. "To Rena. And louder. Now!"
She flinched but got up slowly, her legs wobbling as if they were about to give out beneath her. She turned to Rena, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, louder this time.
But I wasn't satisfied. "Sorry for what?" I demanded, my voice echoing through the room. "Be specific. What are you apologizing for? Or do I need to make it clearer for you?"
Isha clenched her fists, her lips quivering. "I'm sorry… for the photos," she said, barely meeting Rena's eyes.
"That's it?" I barked. "Be perfectly clear about what you did. No half-baked apologies. Own up to it!"
Isha broke down further, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I'm sorry for taking the photos, for spreading them, and for humiliating you, Rena. I'm sorry for everything I've done!" She collapsed to her knees, sobbing openly.
"Now that sounded like an apology," I said coldly. I knelt to zip up my laptop bag, taking my time as the tension in the room lingered. Isha remained on her knees, trembling and defeated, while the rest of the class watched in stunned silence.
As I slung my bag over my shoulder, Jee and Rena approached me cautiously. Jee's voice was soft but firm. "Ashan, you went too far. Way too far."
Rena nodded, her expression a mix of gratitude and unease.
I smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "I still have one final blow left, but thanks for the feedback. Rena meet me in the lab after this; we've got work to do."
I walked to the door, pausing to glance back at Isha. "Like I promised," I said with a casual shrug, "I won't show the presentation to the principal or anyone else. I won't even talk about it anymore. But…"
Her head jerked up, a flicker of hope briefly lighting her eyes.
"I already spoke to the principal this morning," I added, my tone sharp as a blade. "I've handed over all the evidence, so whatever happens next is out of my hands. Good luck with… everything. Have fun."
Her face crumpled, and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
Satisfied, I turned and walked out of the classroom, leaving the heavy silence and a shattered Isha behind.
As the door closed behind me, Isha sat frozen in place, her tears coming in heaving sobs. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket. She clutched her bag tightly, unable to meet anyone's eyes.
Some students exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of whether to comfort her or avoid her completely. Even Rohit, who had tried to intervene earlier, stayed rooted to his seat, his jaw tight.
The class remained silent, the air thick with judgment and unease. Rena watched her from a distance, her face unreadable.
As I walked back to the lab, my mind wandered over everything that had happened. The confrontation, the fallout, the mess I had created—it was all coming together in a way I hadn't fully expected, but in the end, maybe it was for the best. The rumors about Rena, those lies that had been haunting her, they'd finally been exposed. And even though I couldn't just erase the damage, I had managed to replace it with something else—something that would overshadow everything else.
The truth was out, but the way I had played it, the way I'd made a spectacle of it, had turned the tables. Rena would no longer be the focus of gossip.
Instead, I would be.
People would remember me, not her. I had made the issue about me, I had made it impossible for them to ignore me. My actions had shifted the conversation. If anyone brought up the rumors about Rena again, they wouldn't be able to avoid mentioning what I did. The scandal I caused would be the topic everyone talked about. They might still pity Rena and Isha, sure. But they would no longer talk about them in the way they had. They would pity them for getting caught up in my storm.
I had made sure of that. I didn't just make her the target of some rumors; I had made myself the villain in a way that no one could ignore. And as far as I was concerned, it was the best I could do. At least now Rena wouldn't have to face anything worse than what she'd already endured.
I'd done the same with Isha. It wasn't just about Rena—she wasn't the only one caught in this mess. Isha, too, was part of the equation. I knew if I made it all about me, Isha wouldn't be the villain either. Instead, she'd be seen as a victim of my rage. People would pity her. She wouldn't have to carry the weight of hatred that would have followed if I'd revealed the truth about her role in all this.
It wasn't about saving her. It was about controlling the narrative. No one would hate Isha now. They'd talk about her, sure, but they wouldn't see her as the source of the chaos. Instead, they'd feel sorry for her, just like they would for Rena.
I had orchestrated it all, made sure they were both protected in a twisted way. That's the only way it could work, and that's the only way I could justify it to myself. They'd be pitied, but they wouldn't suffer the consequences I had forced on them. I had made sure of that.
In the end, that's the only conclusion I could come to. I had used anger to fuel my actions, and yes, maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it had worked. The lie about me going to the principal? That was the only thing I had misled about. I wasn't going to escalate things further. She didn't deserve to have things made worse than they were.
I had my reasons, and now I just had to face the consequences.
Rena… well, I'd deal with her later. I could tell her I was just angry at Isha and had let it all out. That I wanted to hurt her for what she did. It was a lie, sure, but it was the truth in some twisted way. The things I did, the things I said, I was angry, and I had lashed out.
It didn't matter now.
I reached the lab, settling in front of my laptop. The work was there, waiting, but my thoughts were elsewhere. My mind was clouded, caught in the chaos of everything that had happened. I kept replaying the moment—I must've caused more trouble for Rena and everyone, didn't I?
I couldn't stop the thought from creeping in, the familiar feeling of self-doubt that followed every bad decision. It's always like this when I'm cornered.
When I don't know what I'm doing, I fall back on what I do know. The things I've always done. Maybe there were better ways to handle this, but I didn't know them. I only knew how to make a mess of things. And maybe that's the only thing I'm ever good at.
But no matter how messed up everything was, I had made sure one thing would happen: the rumors about Rena would be forgotten, replaced by a new story. And it would be about me.
I was still lost in thought when I heard the door creak open.
Rena. I didn't look up at first, not wanting to acknowledge her just yet. But I felt her presence, standing there in the doorway.
Finally, I looked up, and that's when I saw it.
Her face.
There was something in her eyes that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't anger or sadness. It wasn't confusion either. It was something deeper. A mixture of… disappointment? Resignation?
For a moment, I couldn't speak. My throat tightened. My brain told me I needed to explain myself, to say something. But I couldn't find the words.
Rena's eyes stayed locked on mine, the silence between us thick with unspoken things.
And then she said it.
"Is that really what you think I deserve?"
Her voice wasn't harsh, but the words still hit me like a slap. There was no anger, no rage—just a quiet intensity, like I had crossed some invisible line.
My heart raced in my chest, and I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. I was caught, stuck in my own mess.
Rena stood there, watching me, her expression still unreadable. And that was the worst part. Because in that moment, I realized… I had no idea what I was doing.
But I had made my choice.