Her name was Isha Mehra.
She was the quiet one. The kind of girl who stayed late after class to clean paintbrushes no one else cared about. Who wore sweaters in summer and scribbled poems in margins no one read. Her presence was soft, nearly invisible—but her heart?
Full of storms.
And the center of one of them...
It was Abeer.
Loud. Charming. A walking wildfire. And at the time, he was Simran's boyfriend. Everyone knew it—even Isha. But knowing didn't stop the ache.
It started small.
He noticed her in the art room. Said her sketches were "different." That she had eyes that didn't just see things—they understood them. Isha should've pulled away. Should've remembered who he belonged to.
But she didn't.
Not when he leaned too close.
Not when he whispered things meant to hook her.
Not even when he kissed her in the back stairwell of Block B—his hoodie still smelling like Simran's perfume.
And then?
He disappeared.
The very next day, Simran looked at Isha in the hallway—but not with rage.
With confusion. Then... pity.
She didn't scream. Didn't accuse. She walked away.
And that hurt more than anything.
Because Isha expected a fight.
Instead, she got silence.
The kind that confirms you're just a background blur in someone else's story.
No rumors spread. No angry outbursts. Simran never mentioned the kiss—not to Isha, not to anyone. It was like she didn't even know.
Because she didn't.
She truly had no idea.
But Abeer did.
And when his relationship with Simran eventually crumbled, he blamed Isha.
He showed up one night.
Drunk. Angry. Unhinged.
Said she "ruined him." Said she "owed" him.
And when she tried to shut the door—he forced it open.
What he did left bruises.
Outside. Inside. In places she didn't even know existed.
And when he was done, he spat the words like venom:
"You'll never be her. You were just something to hurt her with."
But Simran never knew. She was busy crying over Abeer's gaslighting, thinking she had ruined everything, not knowing the monster he really was.
And Isha?
She shattered.
No justice.No voice.No closure.
She left school a week later. Quietly. Disappeared like smoke.
People whispered.
That her family moved. That she transferred.
That she killed herself.
Something inside her twisted. Hardened. The girl who once painted cherry blossoms began dreaming of fire and ice and revenge.
She became frost and fury in a forgotten shape.
And in her mind, only one person stood at the root of it all:
Simran.
Because she got everything.
The love. The life. The light.
And worst of all—she walked past Isha's pain without seeing it.
So when the veil thinned on that rooftop
When Simran kissed someone who truly loved her
That light glowed too brightly.
And Isha—cold and cracked—slipped through.
With a whisper that wasn't bitter…it was hungry.
"Now, let's see how it feels when someone else becomes you."
Life is never all pleasures and no pain..
Isha is dead but her spirit is what seeking for justice in real just masked as rage because whatever happened to her was because of Abeer .