Chapter 3
Third person POV :-
Golden hues of sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, settling over the thin frame of a boy sleeping peacefully on his bed.
For a moment—just a moment—he looked untouched by the world.
Safe.
His bedroom was the only sanctuary he had… the only place where silence didn’t hurt. No one entered this room. Not because they respected his space—but because they didn’t care enough to. Or perhaps, they simply didn’t want their day ruined by his presence.
And so, here—he was invisible.
At peace.
—
“Ashvik! Wake up—you don’t want punishment first thing in the morning now, do you?”
The sharp voice shattered everything.
Mrs. Hernald—the head maid, a woman in her late fifties—stood outside his door, her tone loud and indifferent.
Ashvik jolted awake.
Fear replaced sleep instantly.
Without wasting even a second, he rushed into the attached bathroom, hands trembling slightly as he began his morning routine. Time was not his ally. It never had been.
He had to catch the school bus.
A bus stop that was twenty minutes away.
A distance he had learned—painfully—he would always walk alone.
No one would drop him.
Not even if he was sick.
Not even if he begged.
Because in his world, he was on his own.
And being late?
That wasn’t an option.
Because they wouldn’t let it slide.
And their punishments…
They never ended well.
—
Twenty minutes later, he stepped out—clean, composed… almost unrecognizable from the chaos inside him.
He walked downstairs quietly, heading straight to the kitchen.
No one packed his lunch.
The maids had been strictly instructed not to.
Punishment.
Always punishment.
—
Halfway down the staircase—
He stopped.
His breath hitched.
Below him was a scene he knew too well… yet never stopped hurting.
His brothers.
Laughing.
Smiling.
Alive in a way they never were around him.
Armaan sat beside the table, gently feeding Ansh, who was comfortably seated on Abhimanyu’s lap. They treated him like something precious. Fragile. Loved.
Everything Ashvik was not.
Ashvik quickly looked away.
Even watching them hurt.
Physically.
—
His stomach growled.
He had skipped dinner the night before—too busy finishing assignments.
Assignments that weren’t even his.
But no one asked.
No one ever did.
And breakfast?
He wasn’t allowed to eat with them.
He was a disturbance.
A bad omen.
At least… that’s what they made him believe.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
Unnoticed.
He wiped it away quickly, before it could exist.
—
“Aww… look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Our prince charming.”
Ansh’s mocking voice cut through the silence.
Ashvik froze.
“I—I’m sorry, bhai… I was completing assignments late last night…” he said softly, head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor.
“Of course you were,” Armaan scoffed. “Why would you ever do anything on time? Teachers must be idiots to expect that from you, right? Or are you the only smart one here?”
The sarcasm was sharp.
Cruel.
Unnecessary.
Ashvik stayed silent.
They didn’t know.
About the bullying.
About the sleepless nights.
About how he completed others’ work just to survive school.
They didn’t know.
And they never tried to.
—
Abhimanyu said nothing.
He simply watched.
And somehow—that was worse.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual… noticing the boy’s frail frame, the oversized clothes, the dark circles under his eyes.
For a split second—
A thought crossed his mind.
Is this what a normal fifteen-year-old looks like?
But it vanished just as quickly.
Because Ashvik wasn’t normal.
He was—
The reason their mother was gone.
—
“Enough,” Armaan said coldly. “You don’t want to be late, do you? Leave. And after you return—come to my office. We need to discuss your conduct.”
“Ji… bhaiya,” Ashvik whispered.
He didn’t look up.
Didn’t dare to.
He rushed into the kitchen, quickly preparing something—anything—for himself.
Four slices of bread.
A thin layer of peanut butter.
Two small sandwiches.
That was enough.
It had to be.
—
Moments later, he was running.
Towards the bus stop.
Breath uneven. Sweat trickling down his forehead.
But he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t.
Because being late meant pain.
And he had enough of that already.
Just as he reached—the bus arrived.
A small smile appeared on his face.
A rare one.
He made it.
—
Inside the bus, he slipped into his usual seat at the back.
Invisible.
Unnoticed.
Safe.
He plugged in his earphones, letting old songs fill the silence in his mind.
Resting his head forward, his eyes slowly closed.
Not from peace.
But from exhaustion.
The kind that wasn’t just physical.
—
School.
He rushed through the corridors, trying not to be late—
But fate wasn’t on his side.
A harsh shove sent him crashing into the lockers.
Pain shot through his body as he fell to the ground.
He looked up.
Ansh.
And his friends—Rahul, Tanay, Varun.
Ashvik silently handed over their assignments.
Varun flipped through the pages, smirking.
“Wow… impressive. You worked really hard.”
Before Ashvik could even stand—
A kick landed hard against his ribs.
He gasped.
“What do you want…? I did everything…” he whispered.
“What do we want?” Ronnie laughed. “We don’t need a reason. You’re a leech. You belong below us.”
Then, turning slightly—
“Right, Ansh?”
“Of course,” Ansh replied casually.
And just like that—
It started.
Punches.
Kicks.
Relentless.
“P-please… bhai… it hurts…” Ashvik cried weakly. “Please stop them…”
“Don’t call me that,” Ansh snapped coldly. “I’m not your brother.”
And then, quieter—
“You deserve worse.”
Footsteps approached.
They left.
Just like that.
As if nothing had happened.
—
Ashvik stood slowly.
Every movement hurt.
He clutched his ribs, dragging himself to the washroom.
He washed his face.
Looked at his reflection.
And said nothing.
Then he went to class.
Because he had to.
—
“May I come in, sir?”
The history teacher looked up—a man with kind eyes and years of wisdom etched into his face.
He observed Ashvik carefully.
“What happened, my child? You look unwell.”
“I… fell, sir,” Ashvik replied with a small, practiced smile.
A lie.
A familiar one.
The teacher didn’t look convinced.
But he nodded.
“Go sit.”
—
Lunch break.
Ashvik sat alone in the cafeteria.
At the far end.
Head down.
Trying to disappear.
But he never could.
“Look who it is,” Tanay smirked. “Our genius. The topper. And this… is what you eat?”
He snatched Ashvik’s lunch.
Tossed it to Ronnie.
Who dumped it on the floor.
Laughter echoed.
Before anything else could happen—
Ashvik ran.
Straight to the terrace.
His only escape.
—
Physics class.
His least favorite.
Not because he couldn’t do it—
But because perfection was expected.
And anything less—
Was failure.
“Good afternoon, students,” Mr. Hopkins began. “Your midterm results are ready. I’ve already sent copies to your guardians.”
Ashvik’s heart dropped.
This was bad.
Very bad.
He couldn’t focus anymore.
Couldn’t breathe properly.
He already knew what was coming.
—
“Ashvik Goenka. Preeti Rathore. Gopal Singh—stand up.”
He stood.
Numb.
“Ashvik, you’ve topped the class—as always,” Mr. Hopkins said. “But this isn’t your best. I expect more. You scored 89.4%.”
89.4%.
The number echoed.
Loud.
Deafening.
The rest of the class faded away.
Because for Ashvik—
That wasn’t just a score.
It was a punishment waiting to happen.
—
And tonight—
He just hoped he would survive it.