At night, Ram focused intently on his pull-ups, the muscles of his impressive physique glistening under the dim light. Just then, a notification pinged from his mobile. It was Geeta, sending a simple yet warm "Hi."
Ram typed back, "Hey, how are your injuries?"
Leaning against her bed, Geeta glanced at her phone and smiled softly as she replied, "I'm feeling much better now." For a brief moment, silence enveloped them, the tension of unspoken words hanging in the air. Geeta waited, hoping for another message, but when it didn't arrive, she let out a resigned sigh. "See you tomorrow, Ram," she added, hugging her phone to her chest, a blush creeping across her cheeks.
Ram, puzzled by her gesture, simply smiled.
The next day, as sunlight streamed through the college gates, Ram spotted Geeta and approached her. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern etching his brow.
"Yeah, it's all better now," she replied, her voice lifting the mood. They chatted comfortably until a luxurious Rolls Royce pulled up, drawing their attention. A stunning girl with an aura of glamour emerged from the vehicle, momentarily stealing Ram's thoughts. But the moment was shattered when Geeta called his name, snapping him back to reality.
Geeta's expression shifted as she noticed Ram's gaze linger on the newcomer, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes. The beautiful girl was accompanied by a young man of Chinese descent, who appeared to be both a classmate and a bodyguard.
"Who are they?" Ram asked, curiosity piqued.
"That's Harshita, the director's daughter," Geeta explained. "And the guy with her is Lushan. They don't come to class often because of personal issues."
As they entered the classroom, Ram's attention drifted back to Harshita, who was seated quietly among the students. An unusual hush had fallen over the room; even the usually boisterous boys kept their voices low. Lushan caught Ram's gaze and shot him a warning look, whispering to Harshita, "That guy is dangerous."
Harshita merely nodded and said to look for the information about him, her expression unreadable.
After class, Ram and Geeta made their way to the cafeteria, where they found Ali sitting alone, absorbed in his lunch. "Mind if I join you?" Ram asked, and Ali nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly.
"Hi, I'm Ram. What's your name?"
"Ali," he replied, a hint of guilt shadowing his features—perhaps a memory of their last encounter when he had brushed Ram off.
Sensing Ali's discomfort, Ram reassured him, "It's okay. I didn't take it personally. You must have your reasons."
Geeta chimed in, "Ali is really talented. He sketches beautifully but has been bullied by those jerks. They even threaten other students."
"It's fine," Ali replied softly. "There's nothing we can do. It's better to avoid confrontation."
He glanced at Ram, concern etched in his eyes. "Trust me, you shouldn't stand up to them. They'll just target you too. That's why I tried to push you away before."
Curious, Ram noticed a sketchbook lying near Ali. "Can I take a look?"
Ali nodded, and as Ram flipped through the pages, he marveled at the artistry within. Each drawing seemed to breathe life, the details so exquisite they almost leaped off the page. One sketch caught his eye: an old woman with kind eyes.
"Who is she?" Ram asked, recognition dawning.
"That's my grandmother," Ali said, a soft smile breaking through his earlier apprehension. "I lost my parents, and she raised me. I love her dearly."
"I met her at the mall," Ram shared. "She helped me tie my shoes."
Ali's eyes brightened at the connection. Just then, a voice broke through their moment.
"Hey, Ali! Come here!"
The atmosphere shifted as Ali's face fell. He turned to Ram and Geeta, bidding them goodbye as he followed the call of the bullies.
Ram watched, worry gnawing at him as Ali walked away, his shoulders slumped in resignation.
At the football ground, the atmosphere turned hostile. Ali was instructed to fetch water and other supplies. Gaja, one of the main bullies, approached him with a malicious grin, brandishing a photo of Ram. "Do you know him?"
Ali hesitated, fear flashing in his eyes. "No, I don't know who he is," he replied, trembling.
"Okay, get back to work," Gaja said dismissively. But someone else in the group had seen Ali and Ram together and reported back, igniting Gaja's fury.
"I saw you with him!" Gaja spat, his eyes dark with anger.
Ali stammered, "I swear, I don't know him!" But Gaja's fist connected with Ali's stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending his bag tumbling to the ground.
"Beat him up!" Gaja ordered, and the group complied, raining down blows on Ali as he crumpled to the ground.
Meanwhile, Ram and Geeta emerged from their class to hear whispers of Ali being beaten. Anger surged through Ram, and he stormed toward the infirmary with Geeta at his side.
Inside, Nurse Monika was tending to Ali's wounds. Concern etched on Ram's face as he asked what had happened.
"I tripped on the stairs," Ali replied, wincing. Monika shared a knowing glance with Ram, recalling Geeta's similar excuse from before.
"Ali," Ram said, realizing the truth. "You were attacked, weren't you?"
"Please, just go home," Ali urged, anxiety in his voice. "Gaja is looking for you. He asked about you, but I didn't tell him anything."
Ram's heart sank. Guilt washed over him; he felt responsible for Ali's suffering.
Nurse Monika interjected, "Don't blame yourself. They pick on students for no reason." She gestured toward Ali's ripped sketchbook, now a mangled mess on the floor.
Ali's eyes glistened with tears at the sight of his precious drawings, and Ram felt a surge of determination.
Standing up, he walked out of the infirmary with resolve. He was going to teach those bullies a lesson—not just for himself, but for Ali.
The time for standing by was over. It was time to take a stand.