The campus courtyard was unusually silent for a Monday morning. Too silent. Students still whispered about the fight—John's precision, Aarvin's intensity, the way Ridgehall froze under the weight of something they didn't expect. But the hush that settled over the place today wasn't admiration. It was tension.
Aarvin felt it the moment he stepped through the gates—eyes watching, whispers trailing, judgment hanging in the cold air.
John nudged him lightly.
"Was there any intention to popularize Storm Pack?"
Aarvin snorted.
"Not like this."
Before John could reply, a voice called from behind.
"Aarvin."
Nairi walked toward him, but something about her was off—steps slower, eyes shadowed by something she wasn't saying.
John lifted his brows and backed away.
"I'll give you two a minute. Don't take too long—Coach wants to see us for the 'you destroyed school reputation' lecture."
He left them alone.
*The Truth She Didn't Want to Say*
Nairi stood there, arms folded, not out of anger but discomfort.
"You look tired," Aarvin said.
"So do you." He half‑smiled.
"I didn't sleep much."
"Because of the fight?"
"Because of the silence afterward."
Nairi hesitated.
"Aarvin… about what I said—bus breakdown and the phone dying…"
"Yeah?"
"That wasn't the whole truth." Her voice trembled, a rare thing for her.
Aarvin's chest tightened.
"Nairi… what happened?"
She looked away for a moment before speaking.
"In my hostel… kuch seniors mujhe bother kar rahe the."
Aarvin's jaw locked. Nairi quickly raised a hand.
"Not harassment. Just… creepy attention, unwanted comments, stopping me in the corridor, that sort of thing."
"Names?" Aarvin's voice dropped.
She swallowed.
"James… Michele… and Henry. Final‑year seniors."
Aarvin's eyes darkened.
"What did they do?"
"They didn't touch me. But they kept showing up wherever I went. They'd block my path, ask unnecessary questions, make strange remarks about my schedule." She exhaled shakily. "Yesterday… they followed me for a few minutes when I left for the match."
A cold, sharpened anger rose in Aarvin—different from the wild fury of the gym, more calculated.
"Nairi… why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because." She met his gaze. "I didn't want your fight to turn into something uglier. And after seeing what you did in the gym… I knew you'd do something you couldn't take back."
Aarvin clenched his fists.
"I would've protected you."
"I know." Her voice softened. "And maybe… that's exactly why I lied."
The truth hung between them—raw, fragile, human.
"Are they still bothering you?"
"Not today. But they looked… angry. Muttering to each other." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think they saw the fight online. And now… I think they're planning something."
Aarvin stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Let them try."
Nairi held his gaze—worried, but trusting.
"Just… don't lose yourself again, Aarvin."
"I won't." His tone firmed. "Not unless they give me a reason."
*The Warning*
Before Nairi could respond, footsteps echoed from behind. Three shadows approached.
Raghav Menon—tall, broad‑shouldered, always challenging the world.
Dev Khatri—lean, sharp‑eyed, smirking like he knew something others didn't.
Arsam Gill—silent, calculating, the type who watches before acting.
They stopped a few feet away, blocking the path.
James tilted his chin.
"So this is the famous Aarvin from the fight video."
Michael clicked his tongue.
"Not bad. Quick hands. Good punches. Shame you don't know where to use them."
Henry's cold eyes flicked toward Nairi.
"She didn't tell you the whole story, did she?"
Aarvin stepped forward.
"She didn't need to. I know enough."
James grinned.
"Good. Then here's something more—" He leaned in slightly. "You embarrassed our housemate at Ridgehall. Now we're here to return the favour."
Aarvin didn't blink.
"Anytime."
Michael's smirk widened.
"Oh, don't worry. It won't be 'anytime'. It'll be soon."
Henry stepped back, hands in pockets.
"Enjoy your peace while it lasts, Storm Boy."
The three walked away as calmly as they'd arrived—as if they hadn't just declared war.
*The Storm That Follows*
Nairi let out a shaking breath.
"Aarvin… this is bad."
"I know." He watched the seniors disappear around the corner. "And I'm ready."
Nairi grabbed his wrist, voice trembling.
"I don't want you hurt. I don't want you suspended. Please… think before doing anything."
Aarvin looked at her hand, then at her eyes.
"I will," he said softly. "But I won't let anyone scare you."
Her grip tightened—fear and trust tangled together.
"Just… don't fight alone."
Aarvin nodded.
"I won't."
Behind him, John called out, "Bro! Coach is hunting for us—whatever you're planning, make it quick!"
Aarvin gave Nairi a final look—a promise unspoken. A storm waiting to break. A war already written.
"Take care," he whispered.
"You too," she murmured.
They turned in opposite directions, but both felt the same thing: something was coming. This time it wasn't Ridgehall. It was the seniors. And they wanted revenge.
* To be continued…