PK settled back on the bench, his expression masked by a reluctant smile. "So come on, why not just get her expelled? You're not one of those people who lets people off that easily."
I didn't respond immediately. The classroom seemed hushed, the hum of the fans above us. My fingers tapped against the desk.
"I didn't forgive her," I replied at last. "In the principal's cabin, I told her—'Just pretend nothing occurred.' The teacher supported me, said I was being nice and that we should just leave it at that."
PK scowled. "So? You're just letting her be?"
Jaanvi taught me people use others. And now NIKITA taught me people decived others, so now I will do the same but both at the same time. just like how she used my sympathy towards her I will use others sympathy towards me to make her life hell.
"Seven months," I told him. My voice was even, perhaps too even. "She'll be here for seven months. And for each day of the months, I'll make her wish she'd never ever crossed me."
He shifted uncomfortably. "How?"
I moved in closer. "Easy. She deceived everyone with a smile. And I'll use that same smile to ruin hers. You still have the recording I forwarded to you, yes?"
PK nodded slowly. "Yeah. You said save it, remember?"
"Good," I said. "I removed it from my end before I left for the principal's cabin. Resend it to you tonight. And prior to that—begin collecting contact numbers."
"Contact numbers?" he asked, inquiringly. "Of who?"
"Everybody," I said. "All students from all sections. Boys, girls—doesn't matter. Inform them we're forming a group for all 8th graders."
Krrish looked up from his notebook. "What's the excuse?"
I smiled. "Say it's for something normal. Like a celebration, a class event… or maybe a surprise for someone's birthday. Something harmless."
PK smirked. "You've really thought this through."
I shrugged. "She used lies. I'll use truth. The difference is—I don't need to fake anything."
---
That afternoon after school, the three of us wandered around as if we were signing up people for a petition. Some asked questions, some questioned, most were simply bored enough to give us their numbers.
When some of them asked why, I produced the same practiced smile and response:
> "It's for Nikita's birthday next month. We're having a surprise—keep it a secret from her, okay?"
That line played better than I thought it would. Everyone enjoyed having a secret they weren't supposed to have.
By the final bell, we'd collected almost all contacts in the grade. My phone was filled with names and numbers—some saved hurriedly, some still unidentified—but enough to contact almost everyone in school who was important.
That night, PK messaged me:
> "Recording resent. It's clean. No edits."
Then another message came:
> "You sure about this, bro? Once you drop it, there's no going back."
I responded,
> "I'm not doing this for revenge. I'm doing it for truth."
And then I glared at the screen for a bit. The words no longer sounded like me.
---
Later that evening, the scheme was put into action.
We formed the group — "Grade 8 United" — and soon enough, notifications started pouring in: who created this? what's this for? invite me too! hey what's happening?
Krrish sent the initial message:
> "Yo all, this group's for fun — share memes, updates, class info. Keep it cool ????."
The conversation went wild with meaningless stickers and inside jokes. Just the kind of cacophony we needed before the silence that was to come.
I waited for an hour. Then I sent one message.
> "Exposing Nikita — the truth behind the smile."
Before anyone could act, I sent the audio file. The filename pulsed like a live grenade on the screen:
???? Recording_Proof.mp3
The community went silent. No bubbles of typing. No responses. Only a line of silence in the digital world that lasted nearly two minutes.
Then, pandemonium.
> "WTF IS THIS???"
> "No way—she lied about all that???"
> "She set him up? You're kidding me?"
> "I don't believe it… she was so nice about it…"
> "That's messed up."
Messages fired off back to back. The secret was out. It was no longer mine. It was everyone's now.
I observed the chat fill with shock, outrage, and betrayal. Some came to her defense initially, stating perhaps it was staged—but when PK and Krrish verified the voice, the scales fell off entirely.
Someone wrote:
> "I always knew there was something fake about her smile."
Another wrote:
> "She duped all of us. Guess karma's real."
The whole grade was abuzz now. Not only my class — sections A to D were discussing it. By evening, everybody knew the tale: how Nikita had set me up, how the truth had been caught on tape, and how the "weak" one she'd called had turned the tables with the click of a button.
---
PK called me a bit later.
"Bro, the school's burning. Literally everyone is discussing it. Half of them are coming to your defense; the other half is roasting her. You okay with this?"
I gazed out of the window. The night sky was still, filled with the same stars that had witnessed every storm I had survived until then.
I said quietly. "I simply revealed who she is to everyone. That's not revenge… that's balance."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, with a little laugh, he told me, "Balance, huh? Never get on your bad side, remember?"
---
The group had vanished by morning — deleted by someone before anyone could see it. But the harm was done. Now everyone had the recording.
Whispers were in the corridors. Nikita's name was spoken everywhere — in the classrooms, the corridors, even the canteen. She ceased to speak much, ceased to smile too.
Our eyes would meet, and she would look away first.
Perhaps I should have pitied her. Perhaps I did. But another part of me — the one that had been shattered by lies previously — experienced only peace.
Not triumph. Not pride.
Just peace, cold and silent.
---
To be continued…
---