Author's note: Thank you so much for all the love on the last chapter!! I know the chapter is a bit late but hopefully the chapter itself makes up for it :)

~I belong~

Varun Reddy

"It's all over," I whispered, my voice barely a whisper as I hit my back against the wall. Drawing my knees to my chest, but even that couldn't stop the tremors wracking my body. "Everything I've worked for, every little step forward I've taken... finished."

It's all over

It's all over

It's all over

That's all that ran through my mind.

"What's over?" Sanjana asked, her voice cutting through the fog. She gently placed her hand on my arm and when I tried to shake her off, she held it even more firmly. "What's wrong? And don't tell me to leave." Then she added a small "Please." She scooted closer to me. "Let me help you fix whatever is bothering you."

A bitter laugh escaped me. God, I tried so hard not to become this person – this cynical, broken thing. But every time I dared to hope, every single time I think maybe, just maybe, things will work out... I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging till it hurt. The universe loved proving me wrong. "Can you magically convince the police officer who's convinced I murdered my worthless excuse for a father to sign my police certificate? Because without it, my masters and visa application won't move forward." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Her eyes widened and she stared at me. "What?" she whispered, looking horrified.

"That's what I thought," I slumped further, too exhausted to even maintain my anger. The shame I should have felt at revealing this mess wasn't there, it was simply replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

"Why is he threatening you like that?"

"I didn't do it," I snarled, immediately regretting the vehemence in my voice. I thought about it every day , but I didn't do it. Why was I even defending myself? For anything, this was good. She would now maintain her distance with me. I was spending too much time thinking about her and with her.

"Of course you didn't, you idiot," she snapped back. "Why else would I be sitting here, trying to help? You think I'd waste my time with someone I actually believed was a murderer?"

"Well you can't help," I muttered, forcing myself to stand. I picked up the chair I had knocked up over and set it right. A murder accusation should probably feel more catastrophic, but when your life's already in flames...

"Tell me everything," she demanded, sitting on my bed like nothing was amiss. "How and why is he threatening you?" She looked jarringly out of place– this bright, put-together human being between the dumpster fire that was my life.

"Stay out of it," I murmured, gathering scattered books. "I'll handle it."

"Varun, this is serious and I want to help," she insisted, grabbing the books from my hand. "Why do you think he won't sign off on your police certificate?"

I sighed at her relentlessness. "Why are you even here, Sanjana?"

"Your mom called me."

"My mom? Why?" I asked frowning.

"What do you mean why?" she asked, incredulously. "Did you forget that we are dating?"

"Yes, but–"

"You should call her by the way, she sounded really worried."

Exhaustion crashed over me like a wave, and I crumpled onto the bed.  I pressed my hands against my face, trying to steady my breathing. The memory of breaking down in front of my mother – her face crumpling with worry, hands fluttering helplessly – sent another wave of shame through me.

"Varun, if you don't tell me what's going on then I can't help you," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't need your help. I've crawled through every hell in my life alone. This is just... one more." my voice cracked on the last word.

She groaned loudly in frustration and she stood. She began pacing the room. "I hate that you have had to do everything alone. I hate that the world taught you that's normal." She stopped in front of me and put her hands on her waist. "There are people who care about you – deeply. So either you tell me what's happening, or I swear I'll start meddling blindly. And we both know that'll be a disaster"

"Why can't you just leave it alone?" I fought to keep my voice steady. "You have so many other friends. Go fix their problems instead."

"Because I give a damn about you, you stubborn idiot!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Now tell me what's really going on."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. Where would I even start?

"Hey." Her voice softened as she sat beside me, taking my hand. The touch should have made me flinch – it usually did – but somehow it comforted me. "You trust me, right? Whatever it is... I promise it won't change how I see you. You know that?"

A wry smile tugged at my lips. "Hear the whole story first before making promises." I inhaled sharply. She still saw the world through rose-colored glass, untouched by its cruelty. A part of me wanted to shield that innocence, to let her hold on to the belief that people were inherently good.

"My father..." The words felt like sand in my throat. "He was an addict. Would do anything for his next fix. And the things he did to us..." I felt her grip tighten as my voice cracked. "The bruises? Those were almost a relief. They'd heal. But we lived each day in fear wondering if this was when he'd finally go too far..." I pulled my hand away, clenching them in my lap until my knuckles went white. "He was calculating at first. Never left marks where anyone could see. Then he lost his job, started hanging out with people who..." I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready to share that part of my life. Not yet, maybe not ever. "That inspector? He and my father were drinking buddies. Know how they met? He was supposed to investigate the first time we reported the abuse. After that..." I laughed bitterly. "We learned our lesson about asking for help. Then one day, my father didn't come home. They found him at the bottom of some stairs. No witnesses. No cameras." My hands trembled violently and I tried to hide it by shoving them under my thighs. "The inspector – my father's friend – took one look and decided Mom and I had finally snapped. It didn't matter that we were home because my father had broken my mother's foot. It didn't matter Dad's blood alcohol could've killed him on its own. He..." A violent shudder wracked my body as memories of the interrogation flooded back. The horrors I had faced as a mere teenager were too painful to even remember. I swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape as memories of the mental and physical torture my mother and I had to face flodded back.

"Seriously! Fuck them," Sanjana whispered, face ashen. Her voice hardened with rage. "Fuck them both. Your father and that inspector. They both deserve to rot."

"They do," I said, with a small nod.

"And how exactly did he tell you that he is not going to sign off on the police certificate?"

"He video called me and my mother to gloat this morning."

"Seriously? What an asshole!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "This is what we are going to do... next time he calls we will record him and then blackmail him back and then he'll be forced to give you the certificate."

Despite the situation, I scoffed. "You should stop watching movies and tv shows. Real life doesn't work like that."

Her shoulders drooped and then her eyebrows furrowed together in thought. "Then...Maybe I can check with my dad or grandfather–"

"No, I don't want to get anyone involved," I interrupted immediately.

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then nodded. Once again her face turned thoughtful. "Okay... how about you talk to Kabir Sir?"

"No, he..." I trailed off. "No."

"Why?" she asked, frowning. "It is literally his job. He always keeps saying that he wants to see us succeed and he is ready to provide all the support that he can."

"No, it's shameful and I can't–"

"Why are you ashamed?" she asked, incredulously. "Is that asshole police officer embarrassed for the crimes he is committing? Or your father?" When I shook my head, she tapped my head. "Exactly! Then why are you ashamed?"

"You won't understand," I said, annoyed.

"Look." She crossed her legs, shifted to face me fully. "I understand shame, Varun. I understand wanting to bury ugly parts of your life so deep that no one can ever find them. But it'll just make the whole situation worse."

I tried standing up but she caught my arm and forced me to keep sitting.

"Just hear me out... I have heard through some gossip that he was in the army or something so I'm sure he has some connections. And Saksham told me he helped one of the guys on the cricket team whose scholarship was wrongly cancelled and a girl from first year apparently had a stalker and he took care of him for her even though that kid was a trustee's son. Look I don't like Kabir Sir either, but like Tabassum said he is a fair man who deeply cares about seeing us succeed. After all, his salary depends on it."

"That was different–"

"How?" she interrupted, her voice sharp. "Because their problems were more 'worthy'? Because you have this messed up notion that they deserved help and you don't?"

"That's not what... I... I don't..." I fumbled with my words. It felt strange to have someone so deeply offended and concerned for me. I was used to pitying looks and empty promises of help, but never had anyone fought so fiercely for my well-being. My stomach fluttered with that odd, unfamiliar feeling I'd been getting whenever I was around her lately.

"You're letting those bastards win twice," she said calmly. "First by carrying this shame that isn't yours to bear, and second by letting them destroy your future. The same future you and Aunty have fought so hard for."

"It's not that simple–"

"No, it's exactly that simple. Someone in power is abusing that power to hurt you and you are reaching out to ask for help." She squeezed my hand. "If you are worried that Kabir Sir will judge you... then you are wrong. He probably judges the backbenchers, slackers and troublemakers. He definitely judges me, but he won't judge you. I promise." Then her eyebrows furrowed together. "And if he does then I'll ruin his precious Convertible by slashing its tires and keying the car."

I scoffed and shook my head. "You're crazy."

"Maybe." she nodded, sagely. "But I think I made some super valid arguments that you should consider."

"And what if he can't?" The thought that had been choking all the optimism and hope finally found its voice. "What if Kabir Sir tries and fails, and then that man retaliates worse than before?"

"Then we try something else." She paused, then added softly, "You don't have to tell him everything. Just enough so he understands what's at stake. Let him help you, Varun. Please."

I stared at our joined hands, mind racing. The thought of my mother and my future wanted me to run to Kabir Sir but the thought of angering that inspector made me nauseous and tremble in fear. I screwed my eyes shut and remembered the happiness I had felt and seen on my mother's face when I received my acceptance in this college and how excited she was for my future endeavors. Opening my eyes, I saw Sanjana looking at me with hope in her eyes that I found myself nodding.

"Perfect!" She bounced up. "Go freshen up. I'll come with you to Kabir Sir."

"Right now?" I asked, my fear creeping back in.

"Of course!" she said, scrunching her face. "Your application deadline isn't going to wait. If anyone deserves that scholarship, it's you. Now go and change."

When I came out of the washroom after changing and freshening up, I saw that Sanjana had cleaned up the mess I had made. "You didn't have to do it. I could have done it later," I murmured, as I stepped closer to her.

She straightened from my desk, and my heart stopped. She was holding my diary and it was open. "I didn't know you were a writer," she said, smiling down at the pages.

I lunged forward, snatching it away, face burning. It was the stupid poetry competition that Medha Ma'am had suggested I partake in. I wasn't going to, obviously, but I just wrote something. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Those were beautiful. And surprisingly romantic. Who is the special girl inspiring these?"

"No one," I growled, burying the journal beneath a stack of books, trying to hide both it and my embarrassment.

She held up another paper – my handwritten draft of Beauty and the Beast, covered in mine and Medha Ma'am's annotations. "And this?"

"Medha Ma'am gave it to me to just look at it ," I lied, reaching for it.

"This is your handwriting." She walked backward, holding the pages behind her. "Did you write the script for the play?"

"Of course not!" I protested, my voice too defensive even to my own ears.

In my haste to grab the papers, I stumbled forward. She stepped back, bumping against my desk. My hands landed on either side of her, caging her between my arms as I tried to regain my balance.

The world seemed to slow and I almost stopped breathing when I felt her sharp intake of breath. Her eyes widened slightly and she shifted close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume.

My heart thundered against my ribs. I'd never been this close to her before, close enough to see how brown her eyes were or how she had some freckles on her nose. Something electric crackled in the tiny space between us. It was foreign, terrifying and thrilling all at once. I jerked back suddenly, the spell breaking. "Sorry, I tripped," I mumbled.

She stayed against the desk for a moment, aflush had crept up her cheeks, and she wouldn't meet my eyes. "No..." She cleared her throat and smiled. "No worries. We should go see Kabir Sir."

"Yeah," I agreed quickly, grateful for the escape.

___

Kabir Sir came out of his office after making us wait 2 hours and 47 minutes. I didn't blame him. He was a busy man and we had no appointment. I was just happy that he was willing to see me. More than that, I was shocked at how patiently Sanjana had waited with me. Not a single complaint. Not even a dramatic sigh.

Sanjana and I stood up at the same time. Kabir Sir's gaze flicked between us, one brow arching. "Who am I meeting with today?"

"Varun actually has a problem," Sanjana spoke on my behalf.

Kabir Sir nodded. "I see. And you, Ms. Thapar, are his parent or guardian?"

Sanjana and I looked at each other in confusion. Was he not feeling well or something?

"No, Sir," Sanjana spoke again. "I'm just here as a friend."

"Oh good. Then you can 'just' wait out here," he said briskly before pointing at me. "You—inside. I don't have all day." With that he disappeared into his office.

Sanjana squeezed my hand, offering an encouraging smile. Drawing in a shaky breath, I stepped into Kabir Sir's cabin. As I settled into the chair, I couldn't help but wonder how I had never noticed before that Kabir Sir had a military background. Every aspect of him, from his upright posture to his calm, collected demeanor to his no-nonsense attitude, exuded the unmistakable air of military discipline.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Reddy?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

And for the second time that day, I told my story. It was just as humiliating, just as painful to repeat. I had bottled everything up for so long that the words tumbled out in a disjointed mess. I probably wasn't even going in chronological order or even giving proper details. And through it all, Kabir Sir remained unreadable, his expression impossibly stoic.

By the time I finished, my vision blurred with unshed tears, and a lump of emotion clogged my throat.

Kabir Sir wordlessly slid a glass of water toward me. "Drink," he ordered.

I reached for the glass and took a few sips. I must have looked like a mess because I barely managed to drink without spilling.

By the time I set the glass down, Kabir Sir had circled the desk and taken the seat beside me. His voice, calm but firm, broke the silence. "Did you do what that officer is accusing you of?"

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

"Then why is your head hanging in shame? Lift up that chin and look me in the eye as a man and tell me that you are innocent."

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I didn't do it, Sir."

He studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, instead of retreating behind his desk, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Good. But you're still carrying this burden like a guilty man when nothing in this is your fault."

I wanted to argue, but I knew better than to speak out of turn.

"Listen to me. You already know this, but out there, people will always come for you. They'll push you, corner you, try to break you just to see if they can for their amusement. They go after the weak. They look for easy targets, people who hesitate, who stammer, who think they are alone and refuse to build connections, and most importantly who drop their gaze like they've already accepted defeat. And right now? That's exactly what you're doing."

I flinched, and Kabir Sir's jaw tightened.

"Never do that again," he demanded. "Never let another man see you scared or nervous. You want to make it through life in one piece? Then you walk, talk, and breathe like you belong, even when the whole world is trying to convince you otherwise."

I took a shaky breath. "But what if–"

He cut me off with a single glance. "No 'what ifs.' Leave no room for doubt. If you start thinking about worst-case scenarios, you'll make them real. You need to be solid, unshakable. When you speak, you speak like you're the one in control, even if your hands are tied behind your back."

I straightened slightly, my chest feeling lighter but tighter at the same time.

He nodded approvingly. "Do you know what one of the most crucial rules to win a war is?" His voice softened slightly, but his eyes didn't. "That you never fight battles alone. Smart men know when to call in reinforcements."

I frowned. "I don't have reinforcements."

He smirked, finally standing and straightening his tie. "You do now."

I stared at him, my heart hammering. "Sir, does that mean...?"

He handed me a post-it note from his desk. "Write down that officer's name, the police station and the dates when he took you into custody and I'll take care of the rest."

I wanted to weep in gratitude. "Thank you, Sir. I don't know how to put into words how much I appreciate your help."

"And one last thing, Varun." Kabir Sir said, watching me write the details he had asked for. "Stop slouching. No one follows a man who doesn't know how to stand tall."

After thanking Kabir Sir for probably the hundredth time, I stepped out of his office. For the first time in my life, I straightened my back and walked with purpose, like I truly belonged. I belonged here, in this prestigious college, not because I had rich parents who could buy me fancy clothes or shoes, but because I had earned my place through my own hard work. As I continued to walk, I continued to hear Kabir Sir's advice. Walk like you belong. And for the first time, I did.

Sanjana was still waiting for me when I emerged from the office. For some reason, she could tell what happened in there that her face brightened up and before I could even say anything. She grinned and practically ran to me and threw her arms around me.

As I found myself slowly, almost hesitantly, wrapping my arms around her, the poem I had written– the one she had read–came rushing back to me

She's unlike anyone I've ever known,

She's the warmth of the sun on a winter day,

She's the cool breeze on a hot summer afternoon,

She's the scent of petrichor after the rain,

She's the first flower of spring,

She's beautiful nature herself. Raw and pure.

Her voice isn't soft, but it's a gentle force,

It cuts through my chaos with ease and clarity.

When she laughs, everything feels right,

as though my world has found its balance again.

I want to be the one she turns to,

to see the hidden parts of her no one else sees,

to open up the parts of me that are hard to share,

to whisper dreams, and reveal fears, laugh at inside jokes

I may not be the one for grand gestures or promises,

but all I want is to be near her,

to understand the depth of loving her,

in those quiet moments, and even those that take our breath away.