The courtroom was packed.
Journalists filled the back rows, whispering among themselves while adjusting their cameras and notebooks. A case involving the Malhotra Group, one of the most powerful business families in the city, was bound to attract attention.
At the center of it all sat Rohan Malhotra.
Confident. Relaxed.
He leaned back in his chair as if the entire trial was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His expensive watch glinted under the bright courtroom lights.
Beside him, his lawyer flipped through documents calmly.
"This will be over quickly," the lawyer murmured.
Rohan smirked.
It always was.
Across the room, the courtroom doors opened quietly.
A woman stepped inside.
Her heels echoed softly against the polished floor as she walked toward the front. She wore a black blazer over a crisp white shirt, her posture straight and composed.
People barely noticed her at first.
But then someone whispered,
"That's the prosecutor."
The room slowly grew quieter.
Advocate Aisha Sharma.
She placed a thick file on the table and looked toward the judge.
Calm.
Focused.
Almost emotionless.
But behind that calm expression was something else entirely.
Ten years.
Ten long years.
The judge adjusted his glasses.
"Advocate Sharma, you may begin."
Aisha nodded slightly.
She opened the file in front of her, her fingers turning the pages carefully as if each one carried weight.
Then she looked up.
Her gaze settled on Rohan.
For a moment, he didn't react.
To him, she was just another lawyer.
Another opponent who would eventually lose.
Aisha spoke.
"Mr. Rohan Malhotra, do you remember your university days?"
The question caught him slightly off guard.
His lawyer immediately stood up.
"Objection, Your Honour. This case concerns corporate fraud, not—"
"It will be relevant shortly," Aisha said calmly.
The judge gestured for her to continue.
Rohan shrugged casually.
"Of course I remember," he said. "Why wouldn't I?"
Aisha reached into the file and pulled out a photograph.
An old photograph.
She placed it on the table and pushed it toward him.
Rohan glanced down.
The smile on his face slowly faded.
It was a university photograph.
Five students stood together, laughing confidently.
Young. Carefree.
Untouchable.
Behind them stood a girl.
Quiet.
Awkward.
Almost invisible in the frame.
Rohan's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the photo.
Aisha's voice cut through the silence.
"Ten years ago, a scholarship student at that university was accused of cheating, hacking the exam system, and leaking private information."
Whispers spread across the courtroom.
The journalists leaned forward.
Aisha continued.
"She was publicly humiliated. Expelled. Her academic record destroyed."
Rohan shifted in his seat.
Aisha flipped another document from the file.
"What the university never discovered," she said slowly, "was that every piece of evidence used against her had been fabricated."
The room fell silent.
Rohan's lawyer stood again.
"This is completely irrelevant—"
"Sit down," the judge said sharply.
Aisha stepped closer to the witness stand.
Now Rohan was looking at her properly.
Something about her face felt… familiar.
But he couldn't place it.
She spoke again.
"Mr. Malhotra, tell the court something."
Her voice remained steady.
"Do you remember the girl who was expelled that year?"
Rohan forced a laugh.
"I don't remember every random student from college."
Aisha held his gaze.
Then she said quietly,
"You should."
A pause filled the courtroom.
Then she added,
"Because the girl you ruined…"
She closed the file slowly.
"…never forgot."
For the first time since the trial began, Rohan felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Aisha Sharma looked directly at him.
And in that moment,
he finally recognized her.