The moment they were out of sight from the group, Sneha turned to Aarav, arms crossed, her expression tight with frustration. "Alright, spill. What the hell was that about?"
Aarav ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Hamza sent me a message. He finally gave us the proof."
Sneha's eyes narrowed. "And? What is it?"
Aarav hesitated for a second before pulling out his phone. "A voice recording. Here, listen."
He tapped play, and Shumaila's voice filled the quiet space around them.
"Honestly, it wasn't that hard to get my hands on Hamza's project. He acts all smart, but in the end, he's just like the rest. Too easy to manipulate."
The moment the recording ended, Sneha's jaw clenched. "That's bullshit. There's no way she said that."
Aarav pocketed his phone. "I know. But it sounds real, Sneha. If we didn't know her, even we would believe it."
Sneha started pacing. "Okay, let's think logically. Where the hell did he even get this from? Who sent it to him? And why hasn't he questioned it?"
Aarav shook his head. "That's what we need to find out. But you know Hamza—he's too blinded by anger to care. As long as he has something to justify his accusations, he won't look any further."
Sneha stopped pacing and turned to him. "Then we force him to. Let's go find him."
They found Hamza outside the CS department, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, lost in thought.
"Hamza," Sneha called sharply, making him glance up.
His brows furrowed at the sight of them. "What do you two want now?"
Aarav stepped forward. "We listened to the recording. Now tell us—who sent it to you?"
Hamza scoffed. "What does it matter? I have proof. That's all I need."
Sneha's patience snapped. "Are you serious?! It matters because anyone could've sent that to you! Have you even considered the possibility that this is fake?"
Hamza's jaw tightened. "It doesn't sound fake. It sounds real enough to me."
"That's because someone wanted it to sound real!" Aarav pressed. "You're too damn smart to blindly accept something without questioning it, Hamza. Think. Who sent this to you? And why?"
Hamza's gaze darkened. "You really think I haven't thought about that? But in the end, does it even matter? The recording is enough."
Sneha let out a bitter laugh. "So you're just going to keep ruining her reputation over some file someone handed to you? You didn't even try to confirm it."
Hamza exhaled sharply, his frustration growing. "I sent you the proof, didn't I? Now leave me the hell alone."
Sneha and Aarav exchanged tense, concerned glances as Hamza walked away.
"He's not going to listen," Aarav muttered.
Sneha's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then we'll have to prove it ourselves."
The next day, excitement buzzed around the university as students prepared for the upcoming Inter-College Business Strategy Competition happening in two days. Posters were plastered all over the campus, and discussions filled every hallway.
But amidst the enthusiasm, there was another conversation happening—one much crueler.
"She seriously has the audacity to still compete?"
"Guess she's really shameless."
"Maybe she'll just steal someone's strategy this time."
Shumaila heard every word.
She kept walking, shoulders straight, expression unreadable, but inside, something twisted painfully.
She had fought hard to get into this competition. And she wasn't going to let them take this away from her, too.