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No part of Twisted Lies may be copied, reproduced, or distributed in any form without the author's written permission. This work is protected under copyright law. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or adaptation is strictly prohibited and punishable by law
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The corridor buzzed with whispered gossip, but Ishika Malhotra didn't hear a word of it.
Her heels struck the tile like thunderclaps as she stormed forward, her eyes blazing, fists clenched tight at her sides. Rage coursed through her veins, boiling hot and uncontrollable.
Him. Again.
Of all the people in the world, it had to be Ruhaan Agnihotri—the boy who lived to make her life miserable.
Because of him, once again, she was being compared. Once again, told she wasn't enough.
She hated it. Hated him.
Her chest heaved as she threw the door open with a loud bang, the force slamming it against the wall.
"RUHAAN! RUHAAN AGNIHOTRI!" she shouted, her voice echoing like a war cry.
Ruhaan sat behind the desk, completely unfazed. His crisp uniform was as perfect as ever, not a wrinkle out of place. Those sharp, dark eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, then dropped back to his coffee as his lips curled into a maddening smirk.
"Ah," he said, setting down his cup with deliberate calm, "I was wondering how long it would take you."
She wanted to rip that smirk off his face.
Ishika strode over, slamming her palms down on the desk with a force that sent a pen rolling off the edge.
"Did you tell Sir that I'm not capable of becoming class president?" she spat.
"Yes," he replied coolly, taking another sip of his coffee like he hadn't just tried to ruin her reputation.
Her finger trembled as she pointed at him. "How dare you! First you took away my chance to be Vice President, then Student of the Year, and now this? What the hell is your problem with me?!"
Ruhaan sighed, slow and exasperated. "Too noisy."
His tone was condescending, his gaze infuriatingly calm.
"It's not personal, Ishika. You're impulsive. A class president needs composure—something you clearly lack."
"Don't you dare—" She stepped closer, her eyes wild. "You think you're better than me, don't you? Just because the teachers worship you? Just because everyone thinks you're a prodigy? I'm sick of being compared to you!"
His smirk faltered. Just for a second.
Then, quieter this time, he said, "Then stop proving them right."
His words hit harder than she expected.
"You're talented, Ishika. But you let your emotions control you. That's why they'll always see you as second best."
Silence fell between them, thick and bitter.
She opened her mouth, ready to scream back—ready to hurt him the way he just hurt her—but the words choked in her throat.
Instead, her voice came out cracked, trembling with fury. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Because you're just like her Everyone melts for you, just like they did for her.
He didn't blink.
click.
He placed his mug on the desk and finally looked her in the eyes.
"Someone like you doesn't deserve it."
Ishika let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Someone like me, huh? Are you talking about the girl who doesn't even look at you? The one who's always ignoring you?"
Ruhaan stood up.
The room shifted with him.
"Let me tell you what someone like you really means," he said, voice low and razor-sharp. "You use your innocence like a weapon. You pretend to be this perfect, soft-spoken saint—but even you know that your smile is a trap."
Her rage exploded.
"EVEN MY PARENTS CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME?!"
He didn't flinch.
But she saw it—the tiniest flicker of something in his eyes.
Pain?
Regret?
Whatever it was, it vanished the moment it appeared.
She turned away, trying to breathe through the fury. "You always got everything handed to you on a golden plate. It's not the same for everyone else." Her voice broke for a second, before turning sharp again. "Or maybe… maybe you're taking someone else's anger out on me."
Ruhaan tilted his head. "You think too highly of yourself."
He stepped closer. Too close.
The air between them grew tight, electric, heavy with tension and a history neither wanted to speak out loud.
"You can't manage your emotions," he said softly. "How could you ever manage a class?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, yet razor-sharp. "It doesn't matter to you."
His ocean-deep gaze hardened, turning stormy. "Don't raise your voice at me again. Or else—"
"OTHERWISE HUH? KILL ME? KIDNAP ME AND TORTURE ME IN A DARK ROOM? WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO, RUHAAN AGNIHOTRI?"
The second the words left her mouth, his hands gripped her shoulders and slammed her against the wall.
The force of it stole the breath from her chest.
"You think this is a joke?" His voice was low, dangerous. "I can throw you out of this school in minutes. Then go ahead, keep sending your cute little applications to Harvard—see how far you get without this place backing you."
He leaned in, their noses nearly touching.
"I can ruin your dreams with a single word. One order. That's all it takes."
But Ishika wasn't scared. Not even close.
Her chin lifted defiantly. "Your parents must be so proud," she said, her voice cold. "Especially your mom. Her son, threatening a girl like this. She must be so proud."
That name. That line. It hit harder than anything else
He stepped back as if burned.
And then—
His voice dropped.
"Don't. You're not allowed to say her name. Not you."
She folded her arms, matching his intensity with a hurt of her own. "Touched a nerve, didn't I?Now you know how it feels. My dreams aren't just mine—they're my papa's too"
"You want to talk about nerves?" he snapped. "You think I don't notice the way you rehearse your answers before debates? Or how your hand shakes before big announcements but you hide it by adjusting your watch? You act fearless, but I know you're terrified of failing—because you think it makes you weak."
Her breath caught, but she said nothing.
She stunned—but only for a moment. Then she reached for the vase beside her and threw it. It smashed against the floor, glass flying.
She stepped closer, Her eyes blazing with intensity. "dont cross over my plans," she warned, voice sharp and unwavering "Next Time Vase Will Be Landed Over Your Head got it?"
She didn't wait for a response. With a dramatic turn, she walked out of the room, her presence lingering like a storm that had just passed, the sound of shutting door behind her echoing through the vast room leaving behind uneasy air.
He remained still, watching the door swing shut. No smirk, no reaction—just a quiet, unreadable expression as he walk back to his chair and slowly leaned back into his seat.
he suddenly burst into laughter. It wasn't a slow chuckle or a knowing smirk—it was loud, full of genuine amusement, like the memory had just now clicked in the most ridiculous way. As if her warning had never been a warning at all, but the best part of his day .
___________________________
The hallway buzzed with startled gasps and whispers as vedant Singh rajput, captain of star basketball team, held Shanaya against his chest. His heartbeat pounded in her ear, steady and strong-a stark contrast to the chaos inside her.
"Move!" he commanded, his voice sharp as he lifted her effortlessly. The weight of her body was nothing to him, but the way she had gone completely limp sent a ripple of concern through his chest.
He carried her through the crowded hallway, ignoring the curious stares and murmurs. His jaw tightened. He didn't care about the gossip; all that mattered was getting her to the medical room.
The school nurse rushed toward them as he stepped inside.
"What happened?" she asked, already preparing a cot.
"I don't know," vedant admitted, carefully laying Shanaya down. "She just... fainted." His voice was laced with something unfamiliar-worry.
The nurse checked Shanaya pulse, placing a cool cloth on her forehead. vedant stayed beside her, watching, waiting. He refused nurse to leave her side, and he know the reason- his heart
A dull ache throbbed in Shanaya head as consciousness slowly pulled her back. The scent of antiseptic filled her nose, the hum of an air conditioner buzzing softly in the background. She blinked against the harsh light, her vision adjusting to the sight of a familiar figure sitting beside the bed.
Her breath hitched.
VEDANT
The same boy she had slapped TODAY.
He sat there, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place-concern? Annoyance?
His sharp jaw clenched for a second before he exhaled, relief flickering across his face when he saw her awake.
"You're up," he muttered.
Shanaya tried to sit up, but the dizziness made her groan. As she pressed a hand to her forehead, everything came rushing back-the message from his father, the unbearable weight in her chest, then the overwhelming darkness that swallowed her whole.
Her hands trembled as she clutched she clutched the blanket, 'her parents are going to take divorce' this replaying the words as she saw her father message just hours ago.
Then... him.
Her eyes darted back to vedant "You...?" Her voice was hoarse.
His lips pressed into a tight line"Yeah, I caught you before you hit the floor. Carried you here. No need to thank me."
Shanaya stared at him, her mind still foggy.
In a fit of frustration and anger, she slapped him, without hearing his side. She didn't even remember what it was about-something dumb, something unimportant compared to everything she was dealing with now. But she had hit him, and he didn't said anything to her.
Yet here he was.
Sitting by her side.
Not gloating. Not throwing her slap back in her face. And Now Just... there.
he shifted, standing up. "You should rest. The nurse said you fainted from stress. Whatever's going on... don't keep it all in, alright?"
Shanaya fingers twitched. Her throat burned with unshed words.
for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel entirely alone.
Shanaya swallowed hard, guilt twisting in her stomach. "Why?"
Vedant tilted his head, frowning. "What do you mean, 'why'?"
"Why did you help me?"
For a moment, he was silent. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "Because you were falling."
Shanaya heart skipped a beat
Something in his voice-casual yet heavy-made her chest tighten. She looked away, her fingers curling into the blanket. She didn't know what to say.
Finally, she collected all her strength and spoke
"This is not answer, there's many people here to help me, 'Why you'?"
"Why did you help me? I slapped you an hour ago," she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
I l-like..... PRAKRITI!
TO BE CONTINUED....