That first week back, someone else wore the crown in tenth grade. This one answered to Vikram - no quiet sketches here, just loud steps and sharper eyes. Not like Chandru at all, who moved through halls like a held breath. Power followed this boy differently; it stuck close, knowing his uncle ran the school. He made sure everyone noticed.

Fine, you’re the singer,” Vikram stated flatly, stepping into my path outside the music room one day after school. Taller than Ajay, he stood there with a grin that turned my skin prickly. His stare stuck - like I was something small pinned beneath glass. Mention of his cousin Chandru came slow, dragged out like an accusation

That quiet version of me slipped into place right away. My gaze dropped without thinking. Singing at school is what I do, that is all, Bhaiya

"Don't 'Bhaiya' me," he stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "Chandru left big shoes to fill, but I think he was a bit soft. I hear you have a habit of keeping secrets, Dhanya. Just remember... secrets in this school eventually come to me. And I don’t keep them for free."

Fast steps carried me forward, his presence making my arms prickle. Safety once given by Chandru now empty. Those who quietly helped were slipping into silent observers

That night, while doing my Pooja, I stayed longer than I normally do. Instead of rushing, I whispered a wish for Muthassi’s clarity. A quiet hope came too - for courage to guard what only I knew. Yet staring into the swaying firelight, one thing became clear: the girl they called innocent had already vanished.

Foot deep in thunder, I stood still - his rules once felt like walls, yet now they whispered something else. Might have been fear. Or maybe safety wearing a harsh voice.