~Welcome to Bedi Villa~

I’ve loved the Discovery Channel for as long as I can remember. While other kids collected stickers or fought over TV remotes, I kept a small, slightly torn notepad where I wrote down facts about animals, strange facts, useless facts, and facts no one asked for. If I learned about a new species, it went straight into the notebook, like evidence in a case file. And Bear Grylls? He wasn’t just a TV host to me. He was a lifestyle influencer before the word even existed. Thanks to him, I proudly graduated from vegetarian to non-vegetarian, an achievement that, according to my respected father, was reason enough to exile me from the house.

Animals, you see, have patterns. Take hyenas. Or vultures. Fascinating creatures. Ruthless, but honest about it. When they see injured prey, they don’t jump in immediately. They circle them. Slowly. Patiently. Almost politely. Not because they’re kind but because they’re lazy. Why waste energy killing something that’s already dying? They prefer to let fate do the dirty work. They just stand there, watching the breathing slow down, waiting for life to politely exit the body. Only then do they eat. Clean hands. Full stomachs.

It’s disgusting. Brutal. Efficient.

But also… animal behavior.

And animal behavior, I always believed, belonged strictly to animals.

Humans were supposed to be different. More evolved. Less hungry in that particular way.

Right?

Because right now, I’ve been lying on this bed for the past fifteen minutes, frozen in fear, my eyes stubbornly refusing to open as if staying asleep might somehow save me. I can feel them without seeing them. Their presence hangs in the air, heavy and patient. They’re watching me the same way those Discovery Channel hyenas watch their prey: calm, alert, disturbingly hopeful.

No one says anything. No one moves. They’re waiting.
Honestly, pick a side. Either eat me alive or spare me the suspense. This slow, ceremonial waiting is cruel. Even predators, at least, have the decency to finish the job quickly.
“Bhabhi, what are we supposed to do now? Prashant bhaiya isn’t here, nor is Nishant. How will we deal with this mess?”

The sudden voice jolted me—just a little. Honestly, I was relieved. At least someone had finally spoken. Silence, after all, is much scarier when it doesn't have an audience.

And yet, the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me.    Why do they sound so scared? I should be the one panicking. I’m the one lying on a bed in someone else’s house, wrapped tightly in a blanket, pretending to be asleep. God knows how many hours I’ve been here—because for the life of me, I cannot remember what kind of legendary stupidity I committed last night.

That’s the real horror.

It’s the blank space in my memory.

Somewhere between last night and this morning, I clearly made decisions. Bad ones. Iconic ones.

As far as I can remember, last night was the night my breakup happened, and my shameless best friend decided that heartbreak deserved a celebration.

That Kamini had said she wanted to heal me from the inside. “Deep healing,” she’d promised. Apparently, a brand-new version of me was supposed to emerge from this experience and blah blah blah.
But guess what?
Out of all her stupid ideas,
This one actually sounded amazing to me.

Next thing I knew,
I was wearing that stupid slit dress...
The same one that that stupid kutte ka pila had given me as a "gift."
What was I even thinking?!
And now, here I was,
laid in front of this entire family,
wearing that dress —
Of course, they were going to stare!
What else could they do?
Perform my freaking aarti?

Buttt hey!!!
Why is it suddenly so quiet?
No voices.
Nothing.
Did everyone leave?
My heart thumped a little faster. Silence can be comforting, but right now it's quite the opposite.
Should I open my eyes?
“Agar tumhari nautanki khatam hogyi ho toh uthne ka kast karengi app!?.”
The voice was different from the last one. Scarier. Sharper. And somehow… familiar.
Too familiar.
Had I heard this voice before?
My brain scrambled, desperately flipping through old memory files that clearly hadn’t been backed up properly. The tone sent a chill down my spine, neither loud nor angry.
“I’m talking to you. Get up.”
Oh no.
Please, someone—anyone—tell me she isn’t talking to me. Tell me this is meant for another girl hiding under another blanket.

“Did you not hear me?”

Alright. Fine. The moment she brought that motherly attitude into this, my soul returned to my body. I was getting up anyway—I wanted to know exactly who this woman was.

Har Har Mahadev.

And just like that, I shot upright. No delay. I scanned the room in one swift motion, and suddenly, I didn’t need any help figuring out who that harsh, terrifying voice belonged to.

Because it wasn’t just anyone.

Shreemati Raddha Rathore—

The Chancellor of Arambh Institute Of Excellence.
This is the very institute where I teach… and the woman standing before me is the one who owns it.

she is type of woman whose name alone could straighten spines, end careers, and make grown adults reconsider their life choices.

The kind of woman people don’t argue with. They apologize to her—even when they’re innocent.

And there I was.
in her house, Sitting on her bed.
wearing a fucking slit dress. Covered in her blanket.
What the fuck did I even do last night?
“Good morning, ma’am! Aap yaha—?!”
Wait. Why was I about to ask such a jhandu question? What is wrong with my brain?
I scrambled off the bed, still wrapped tightly in the blanket, and stood up in front of her because lying down while the biggest authority of my institute stands in front of you doesn’t exactly scream good upbringing.
She is right here.
This huge presence.
And there I was, hair looking like it had survived a cyclone, makeup halfway faded, dignity completely missing, standing in a khatiya dress under a blanket like a badly wrapped newborn baby.
It didn’t look good.
Not at all.
Especially when the woman standing in front of me could end my teaching career with a single raised eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I honestly don’t know how I ended up here. I don’t remember anything from last night. I was with my friends, and now that I’ve woken up, everything feels completely upside down—I don’t understand what’s going on at all. I just want to say sorry if I created any drama or did something inappropriate—seriously—”
I said it all in one breath. Just pure panic spilling out of my mouth like a confession I hadn’t rehearsed.
When I finally stopped, the room went quiet.
And then I looked at her face.
That expression.
Something that I can’t explain.
I couldn’t tell if she was about to scold me, resign me, throw me out, or ask me for a glass of water.
“My son brought you here.”
Okay…what exactly am I supposed to understand from that?

Is this a clarification?
My brain short-circuited instantly. Did that mean this was somehow my fault? Or not my fault? Had I just wasted my perfect apologies on a situation that didn’t even belong to me?

Great! Just great! 

I stood there, still wrapped in the blanket, nodding politely as I understood, but not a single freaking thing I was getting.
“Oh—then I should apologize to Dhruv, because he handled me the entire night—”

“No,” ma’am cut me off so sharply that I nearly bit my tongue.

“Not Dhruv. Siddharth brought you here.”

That pause?
It scared me more than the sentence itself.

Siddharth?

My brain finally woke up and started connecting dots it had been aggressively ignoring. Siddharth—the other son. Mam and the Director’s son.
Isn’t that son also the trustee of the institute!!?

“Ma’am, but aap ne mujh-”
“Arrey bhabhi, you’re awake!”

The way that person said it—loud, casual, almost celebratory—felt less like a sentence and more like an announcement. As if he were informing the entire household, maybe even the neighborhood.

I flinched. Properly. My soul physically left my body for half a second. Sudden declarations should honestly come with warnings.
I was just about to say something—anything—to ma’am when another woman walked into the room. She looked about the same age as her, composed and serious, with a presence that quietly demanded respect.

And behind her came Dhruv… Aryan… and a girl.

Dhruv, I recognized immediately. Unfortunately, I’d known him for a long time. Because yes, fate has a twisted sense of humor, and he happens to be my student. 

 I knew Aryan, too. Not personally, but professionally. His name lives permanently on the lips of every teacher in the staff room. If complaints earned loyalty points, he’d be a platinum member by now.

Missing assignments, attitude problems, talking back, creative excuses, Aryan had mastered them all. 

So yes, I recognized him. Instantly.
But the girl? No idea.
She stood there quietly, observing the situation with curiosity. For a second, I wonder if she is Aryan’s elder sister.

Aryan waves at me, and the moment he does, a smile automatically forms on my face because he looks like a lost puppy who has finally found his owner. I want to wave back at him, but how am I supposed to do that when my hand is wrapped tightly inside the blanket?

A smile will have to do for now.

“Ishani! Help Arya get ready, then bring her downstairs.”

So I was right, this girl is Ishani, Aryan’s elder sister. Ma’am looks at me once and then leaves through the door. The other lady with her follows her out as well.
So all of this just happens… and Ma’am simply walks away? Without explaining anything, without saying a single proper word?
The only thing she said was that her son brought me here.
Honestly, it’s a good thing for me that they leave. What would I even say to them in this condition?

But look at this—she leaves me here with this trio.
Would it really have killed her to take them along with her?

A hand suddenly grabbed mine so unexpectedly that I flinched. By the time my eyes followed the movement, he had already pressed his lips to my hand.

One second
I yanked my hand back.
“What kind of joke is this?”
I started rubbing my hand hard, as if I could erase the feeling of his lips from my skin.
He lifted his head so I could see his face.

Hey Bholenath.

Dhruv Singh Rathore.

He wasn’t like the others. If Aryan’s name carried a bad reputation for all the wrong reasons, Dhruv was his complete opposite. In fact, all of us professors encouraged other students to be like him.

He had everything a student was supposed to have: discipline, self-confidence, responsibility, respect.
And I wouldn’t forget to mention—his face had played no small part in that either. It was largely due to those undeniably handsome features that my group earned the highest profits at last year’s food carnival.

It wasn’t just the girls in college who were drawn to him—some of the professors liked him quite a bit, too.

In short, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that he was living proof of the term college heartthrob.
But the Dhruv I knew, the one I remembered, was nowhere to be seen anymore.

The man standing before me now felt like a stranger. Reckless, shameless, a crude flirt wearing a filthy smirk that made my skin crawl.
Slowly, deliberately, his face moved closer to mine, invading my space inch by inch.
Hey—did he lost his memo-
“Welcome to Bedi Villa, Miss—oops—professor,”
he said, dragging the words out with mock politeness.

I grabbed his cheek in one sharp motion and tugged hard, forcing that smirk right off his face.

“Let’s pretend,” I said coldly, “that you didn’t just do anything.”

“But if I didn’t do anything,” he protested, his voice breaking with pain as he tried to twist away from my grip. “Then why are you pulling my cheek, Professor?”
I let go of his cheek, yet he still clutched it, crying.
“I’m sorry,” Ishani said, turning to Dhruv. “I want to apologize on his behalf. He’s just… far too ill-mannered.”

I noticed Ishani shoot Dhruv a glare, but it had absolutely no effect on him. Had there really been any type of transformation in him? How could someone who looked so cultured turn out to be such a shameless flirt?

“I’m Ishani,” she said warmly. “Dhruv and Aryan’s elder sister. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She extended her hand for a handshake, and I stepped forward to take it.

“Didi!” Aryan called out. “Badi maa ne kaha tha ki bh —”
But before he could finish his sentence, Dhruv kicked him hard in the leg. Poor guy.
“Oh my, you should freshen up,” Ishani said quickly. “The effects of last night’s drinks can’t have worn off completely yet.”
Saying that, she opened the cupboard in front of her, took out a T-shirt and a pair of trousers, and handed them to me.
“The washroom is right over there. You can change.”

Something about this felt strange. Why did everyone seem so flustered? When I looked at Dhruv and Aryan, they were arguing with each other—but the moment they noticed me watching, they both plastered smiles on their faces.

“Come on, come on,” Ishani urged. “We have to go downstairs, too. Badi Maa has called for us.”

Once again, she led me to the bathroom, ushered me inside, and closed the door behind me.

What a strange family.

My gaze drifted to my reflection in the mirror, and I froze. Something was different. There is color in my hair—red. And not just that, a few flowers were tangled in it as well.
But this red colour… right in the centre of my parting
Where had it come from?