Trigger warning ⚠️ Mention of sexual harrasment

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💗Chavi💗

After the dance, Janvi and Agastya returned, flushed and glowing from their performance. Agastya went away not before passing a wink to Janvi. Huh!!?? "What the hell is wrong with him!?" Jhanvi exclaimed, fanning herself with her hand. "Did you see that bastard, Chavi? He is inviting his death!"

"Relax Jaanu! Where is Sharad?"

"Sharad gya bhad mei!!!! Gadha toilet mei baitha hua hai"

"What?"

"His stomach got upset right before our performance and That useless person had to replace him."

"Oh! Still your performance was wonderful. But wait, how did Agastya bhaiya know the steps? It's impossible that he'll learn the whole dance in a minute?"

"AAAAAAA!!! What is wrong with this man? Why does he keep bothering me. And how did he learn the choreography? God! Chavi, my head is hurting."

" Let it go. Don't think too much. Come let's grad some food. Okay?"

"Yeah! I need to have something I'm starving." I held her hand and took her to the food stalls. We both took some paneer starters along with some juice. I felt like I needed to use the washroom.

"Jaanu, I am going to the restroom for a while." I told her

"Okay, let's go" she started wiping her hand with the tissue but I stopped her.

"No no you eat, I'll be back in a few minutes." I assured her and looked at me with a 'are you sure' look and I nodded with a smile.

I went to the washroom on the ground floor where the party was organised but it was VERY crowded. Girls were touching up their hair and makeup and the washrooms(toilets) were not even empty. So, I went upstairs to the first floor. It was empty, not even a single person was there and it somehow frightened me. Alright I'll quickly do my business and go downstairs. But as I stepped into the washroom, an uncomfortable silence filled the air. I quickly brushed off the feeling, trying to convince myself it was just nerves from the party. I quickly did my business.

I washed my hands, placing my phone on the sink beside me. As I reached for a towel, the washroom door opened abruptly, and I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me. I turned, my heart pounding, to see my English professor standing there—his face flushed, eyes glazed over in a way that made my stomach churn. He was in the wrong washroom, and from what I had heard recently about his character, this wasn’t an innocent mistake.

“Sir… thi....this is the ladies’ washroom,” I managed, my voice barely steady.

He just looked at me, an unsettling smile creeping across his face. “Sorry,” he slurred, taking another step toward me, his eyes lingering on me in a way that made my skin crawl. I stepped back instinctively, inching toward the door, clutching my phone tightly.

“I need to go,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice calm, but my heart was racing. Just as I reached for the door, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. My pulse spiked, and I tugged my arm back, but his grip only tightened. "What are you doing? Leave me!!" I shouted. My phone fell from my hand.

“Why are you always in a hurry?” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. His gaze traveled over me, and I could feel bile rise in my throat. My voice shook as I tried to free myself.

“Let go!” I shouted, hoping someone would hear me, but his eyes narrowed, and he pushed me back against the wall. His face was too close, his words too vile, and I felt trapped. The stench of alcohol surrounded him, making me gag.

He leaned closer, whispering things that made my skin crawl. Panic gripped me, but I gathered all the strength I had and drove my knee into his stomach. He gasped, stumbling back, and I dashed for the door. But just as I reached for the handle, he yanked me back by my hair, making me stumble and fall onto the cold floor.

I felt a sharp pain in my scalp, tears streaming down my face as I tried to get up. Before I could move, he grabbed my ankle, dragging me back toward him. I kicked at him again, managing to hit his stomach, but he only tightened his grip, his face twisted with anger. His hand reached for my arm again, and with a sickening rip, the sleeve of my blouse tore.

“NO! Help!” I screamed, but the empty hallway outside swallowed my voice. He again held my hair and hair my head to the wall. I could feel a warm liquid dripping down my forehead and face. Blood. It was blood. Desperation clouded my mind, and my energy was draining fast. Just as he pushed me back against the wall again, my voice hoarse from crying, the door burst open.

Through blurred vision, I saw him—standing in the doorway, his face a mask of fury as he took in the scene. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he locked eyes with the professor. In that instant, the weight of fear lifted, and I felt a surge of relief.

He didn’t waste a second. He stormed forward, grabbing the professor by his collar and flinging him against the opposite wall with a force that shook the entire room. The professor stumbled, his expression a mixture of terror and shock, but his anger was relentless. His eyes burned with an intensity I had never seen before.

“You bloody motherfucker!” his voice was low and venomous, each word laced with a rage that sent chills down my spine.

The professor tried to stammer an apology, but he cut him off, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw in a brutal punch. The sound echoed in the washroom, and the professor fell back, clutching his face, but he wasn’t finished. He grabbed him again, landing a solid punch to his stomach that doubled the professor over.

“This is how you treat your students?” He hissed, landing another blow, his voice filled with disgust. The professor staggered, his face contorted with pain, but Yuvaan’s fury didn’t wane. He threw him back against the wall, his fist swinging once more, hitting him square in the face.

The professor tried to raise his hands in defense, mumbling incoherent words, but he wasn’t listening. He slammed him back again, his voice a dangerous growl. “You think you can get away with this?”

The professor was barely able to stand now, stumbling and clutching his side, but his gaze remained fixed, a fire blazing in his eyes. He grabbed the man by his shirt collar, pulling him close, his face inches away. “If you ever come near her again…” he didn’t finish, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

With one last shove, he threw the professor to the floor, where he lay, groaning and defeated. He didn’t look away, his fists still clenched as if he was ready to strike again if the man even moved. And he did punched him again before kicking him hard in his stomach.

I felt myself sinking against the wall, my knees weak, my breath coming in shaky gasps. My head throbbed, and I could barely keep my eyes open, but he was by my side in an instant. He knelt down, his expression softening as he gently cupped my face in his hands. And I could see a lone tear falling from his eyes.He was crying. Why!? I could feel my own tears falling abruptly.

“Chavi… look at me,” he whispered, his voice a stark contrast to the fury he had shown just moments before. His thumbs brushed away my tears, his gaze filled with concern as he looked at the cuts and bruises on my face.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice breaking through the fog clouding my mind. His hand was warm against my cheek, and I felt a faint comfort in his presence.

But my vision was blurring, the room spinning, and exhaustion was finally overtaking me. I felt a sharp pain shoot in my head. As I looked up into his face one last time, my eyes fluttered closed, and everything faded into darkness.