The next day, the auditorium was packed for the Annual College Debate —
Topic: "Politics and Youth: A Tool for Power or Change?"
Ananya stood at the podium first. Her voice was steady, her tone warm but powerful.
"Politics should be about people, not positions.
Change begins when we listen — not when we shout the loudest."
The audience clapped. Even a few from Aarav's group looked impressed.
Then came Aarav's turn.
"Listening doesn't change the system. Power does.
We need leaders who act, not dreamers who distribute leaflets."
He didn't name her, but everyone knew who he meant.
Ananya looked down at her notes, then up again — meeting his glare head-on.
"Power without compassion is tyranny, Aarav.
You can build nations on fear, but you can't make people stay with you unless you give them hope."
The room fell silent for a second.
Even Aarav's friends looked uneasy — they hadn't seen anyone challenge him like that.
After the debate, as she stepped outside, she found her poster torn — "Blood Donation Drive" ripped in half.
Her hands trembled.
Aarav stood nearby, talking to his team. Their laughter was loud, cruelly familiar.
She walked past him, ignoring his gaze.
But he stopped her.
"Politics isn't for soft hearts, Ananya. You'll learn that soon."
She turned back, her eyes unwavering.
"Maybe. But I hope you'll learn someday that being heartless isn't strength."
And with that, she walked away — leaving behind silence where his pride should've been.
For the first time in his life, Aarav Rathore didn't have a comeback.
Only curiosity.