Three months went by in a haze.
School had lapsed into its routine once more — the same daily gossip, the same mundane lessons, the same jokes from PK that never seemed to get old. But this time, it wasn't the same.
The instructors were less enthusiastic about our class. Perhaps because the "rivalry" that used to keep them tense was lost. With Mayank out, I was alone at the top. Nobody came near really.
The unit test sneaked up.
Everyone was on edge, muttering about how "difficult" the papers were. I didn't care. For me, exams were a routine — something to be done, not something to be dreaded.
A week had passed, and the results were finally declared.
"Rank 1 — Krishanu, 99.8%."
The class applauded half-heartedly. Some were impressed, others resigned. It was to be expected by now.
Then the teacher continued, "Rank 2 — Nikita, 99.6%."
That caught people's attention.
A one mark difference. One.
Even I was taken aback.
I turned to glance at her — Nikita smiled. Serene, assured. It seemed like a friendly smile on the surface. But something in it… did not quite appear straightforward.
The teacher looked pleased.
"Finally! Looks like Krishanu has a decent opponent again. Well done, both of you!"
I nodded, chuckling.
An opponent, yeah? It had been quite some time since I heard that term.
Third place lagged far behind — 95%. The difference was such that the first two were a different league altogether.
The teacher departed, and the room erupted into gossip. PK rushed in with his paper.
"Bro! Guess what, I didn't flunk this time!"
Krrish swiftly snatched his sheet.
"Seventy-one? Passing on the barest margin! Don't pretend like you topped the roll!"
PK shrugged theatrically. "Marks don't determine brains, my friend."
I chuckled sotto voce.
Same old PK.
Later that evening, I took out my phone and texted Mayank.
> "Results came out. 99.8%. You?"
His response was immediate.
> "100%. First rank."
I huffed. *Of course.*
> "So I lost to you again. One mark."
> "Loser," he responded immediately. "I'm the best. You need my guidance."
I couldn't help but laugh.
> "Shut up. Don't act like you're my teacher."
> "Then start calling me Sensei."
> "Never happening."
The conversation went on — silly jokes, casual teasing, the sort of repartee that always came so easily with him. For an instant, we were back in our previous class sitting together, disagreeing on who wrote better.
> "How's PK?" he asked.
> "Same disaster. Got 71% but still pretending to be a scholar."
> "And Krrish?"
> "Eighty-seven. At least one of us studies properly."
He gave me a laughing emoji.
> "Tell PK to stop copying. It's not helping."
Then I asked,
> "How's your new school? Found any bullies yet?"
> "Nope. Teachers here are strict. They separate the troublemakers into another class. It's peaceful — too peaceful, actually."
I smiled weakly.
> "Good. You deserve some peace after all that chaos."
There was a pause before he answered.
> "And you? Everything good?"
I paused, then typed,
"Yeah… sort of. I'm in a relationship again."
It only took him two seconds.
> "You WHAT?"
I could practically hear his voice shouting through the phone.
> "You maniac," he texted. "You *again got yourself into trouble?"
I laughed.
> "Hey, it's not like that. She's different. She went through a lot. Her ex cheated on her. I just… couldn't say no."
> "Krishanu," he said, "sympathy isn't love."
I didn't respond for a bit. He was correct — but I wasn't going to say it.
> "I know," I eventually sent, "I'm keeping my distance. Don't worry."
He sent me a sigh emoji.
> "You better. I couldn't go all the way to knock some sense into you again."
I smiled.
> "You'll always try though."
> "Always," he wrote.
That evening, as I tucked my phone away, I reflected on how strange life was — how quickly things change, how people drift, how new faces move in to take the place of old ones.
But somewhere deep within me, I still yearned for the old battles — the raw rivalry, the laughter, the sense of belonging.
Now, there was just silence.
And beneath that silence —
a smile I didn't yet comprehend.
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