Five years passed quietly.
Too quietly.
Vaibhav and Alicia were in middle school now—old enough for the world to start noticing them, but not old enough to understand why it mattered so much.
Vaibhav noticed it first in the way people stared.
He was taller than most boys his age, his features sharper, cleaner—handsome in a way that made other kids uncomfortable. Teachers liked him instinctively. Girls whispered. Boys didn't.
And Alicia was always with him.
That made things worse.
It started small.
Whispers when he walked by. Snickers behind hands. Deliberate shoulder bumps in the corridor. Someone tripping him "by accident." Someone calling him names just loud enough to hear.
Vaibhav ignored it.
Prabhat had taught him that—endure first. Lin Xuan had never said it directly, but Vaibhav felt it in the way he was raised: don't react unless you must.
So he endured.
Until the day he couldn't.
It was after lunch, near the back of the school where teachers rarely walked. Vaibhav and Alicia were heading toward their next class when three boys blocked the path.
The leader stood in front, arms crossed, smiling like this was entertainment.
"Hey," one of them said. "Pretty boy."
Vaibhav stopped.
"Move," he said quietly.
The leader laughed. "Why? Your girlfriend scared?"
Alicia stiffened. "He said move."
Another boy stepped closer to Vaibhav, poking his chest. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Vaibhav clenched his fists.
Don't react, he told himself.
Then the second one grabbed Alicia's wrist.
"Hey—!" she gasped.
Something snapped.
Vaibhav didn't think.
He moved.
His fist crashed into the first boy's face. Blood sprayed as the boy fell back, screaming.
Before anyone could react, Vaibhav turned and punched the second one—harder. The sound of impact echoed down the corridor as the boy dropped, clutching his jaw.
The leader stepped back, shocked.
Vaibhav didn't let him.
He lunged.
His fists came down again and again—wild, brutal, fueled by something hot and uncontrollable. The leader tried to cover his face, tried to crawl away.
Vaibhav didn't stop.
"Vaibhav!" Alicia cried, grabbing his arm. "Stop—please!"
He didn't hear her.
A teacher shouted from down the hall. "HEY! WHAT IS GOING ON—"
Hands grabbed Vaibhav from behind.
He turned and punched the teacher.
Once.
Twice.
The teacher staggered back in disbelief.
Vaibhav's hands were shaking now. Pain exploded through his arms—bones cracking under the strain. His knuckles split open. His wrists bent at wrong angles.
Still, he didn't stop.
He drove his elbow into the teacher's ribs. Threw a knee. His body moved on instinct, ignoring the screaming pain, ignoring the blood running down his arms.
The corridor erupted into chaos.
Students screamed. Someone ran for help.
Then—
A sharp strike landed on the side of Vaibhav's neck.
His vision went white.
His body collapsed mid-motion.
The principal stood there, breathing hard, eyes wide—not with anger, but fear.
Vaibhav hit the floor.
Unconscious.
Blood pooled beneath his fractured hands.
And Alicia dropped to her knees beside him, trembling, whispering his name over and over as sirens began to echo in the distance.
The school had never been that quiet before.
Two hours later, the principal's office felt too small.
Vaibhav sat on a chair near the wall, both arms heavily bandaged, hands trembling faintly despite the painkillers already wearing thin. His face was pale, lips pressed together, eyes lowered—not in fear, but in something closer to shame.
The door opened.
Prabhat walked in first.
The moment he saw Vaibhav, he stopped breathing.
Then he crossed the room in three long strides and pulled him into a tight hug, careful of the bandages but unyielding in grip.
"…Idiot," Prabhat muttered, voice rough. "You scared me."
Vaibhav swallowed. "Big bro… I—"
Prabhat didn't let go. "We'll talk later."
Behind him, Anika entered and immediately knelt beside Alicia, who sat stiffly on a couch, hands clenched in her lap.
"Hey," Anika said softly. "Tell me everything."
Alicia hesitated—then the words spilled out. The insults. The grabbing. The moment Vaibhav snapped. Her voice shook when she described how he kept punching even when his arms were clearly breaking.
Anika's smile vanished.
By the time Alicia finished, Anika was standing again, expression cold.
At the center of the room, Lin Xuan bowed.
Deeply.
"I apologize," he said calmly to the gathered parents. "For the injuries caused."
The room was tense.
Two sets of parents exchanged glances.
One of them sighed and nodded. "Kids fight. It went too far… but we accept the apology."
The second nodded as well, though uneasily.
But the third man—the father of the boy who had led the bullying—slammed his hand on the desk.
"Apology?" he barked. "My son is in the hospital! Do you know who I am? I'll make sure that brat never steps foot in a school again—"
The air shifted.
Prabhat looked at him.
Not angrily.
Not loudly.
He simply looked.
The man froze mid-sentence.
Then—
A wet sound.
His left arm dropped to the floor.
Not torn.
Not mangled.
Cleanly severed.
The room exploded into screams.
The man collapsed, clutching the stump, blood spraying across the tiles. Parents backed away in horror. The principal staggered against the wall, unable to speak.
Prabhat stood there calmly.
"Sir," he said quietly, voice steady, eyes empty. "Don't make me kill you."
He glanced toward Vaibhav.
"It was your son who bullied my brother."
Silence.
Heavy. Absolute.
Lin Xuan turned slightly. "Prabhat."
Prabhat exhaled once.
The bleeding stopped.
The man passed out.
Without another word, Lin Xuan turned and walked out.
Prabhat lifted Vaibhav carefully.
Anika took Alicia's hand.
They left.
No one tried to stop them.
That night, the house was quiet.
Vaibhav sat on his bed, bandaged arms resting uselessly on his lap. He stared at the floor.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly when Prabhat entered. "I caused trouble."
Prabhat sat beside him.
"You protected Alicia," he said. "That's not trouble."
Vaibhav's throat tightened. "But I lost control."
Lin Xuan stepped into the room.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said evenly. "They were the one who crossed the line."
Vaibhav looked up.
"You should refrain from provoking others.," Lin Xuan continued. "But if someone provokes you—"
His eyes hardened.
"Don't forgive them."
Prabhat frowned slightly.
Lin Xuan finished calmly, "Beat them to death if you must."
Vaibhav shivered.
Then Lin Xuan's tone softened—just a fraction.
"You showed patience," he said. "More than most adults would have. Especially for someone with our bloodline."
Vaibhav clenched his fists weakly. "Then why does it feel like I failed?"
"Because you don't know how to control your anger yet," Lin Xuan replied. "And because your body and mind isn't trained to handle it."
He turned toward the door.
"That will change."
Vaibhav's eyes widened.
"You will learn control," Lin Xuan said. "And you will learn self-defense."
The door closed behind him.
Vaibhav lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
His hands throbbed.
His heart burned.
And somewhere deep inside—
Something listened.