For three days, Shumaila didn't step foot in the university.
The news of her illness spread quickly. Some said it was because of the immense stress, others whispered that it was because she had completely broken down after everything. Regardless of the reason, one thing was clear—her absence was felt.
Her friends worried. Komal, Akansha, Sneha, and Siddarth checked on her constantly, making sure she ate, making sure she rested, making sure she was never left alone for too long.
And outside their dorm building, Hamza waited.
On the third evening, as he stood near the entrance, Akansha spotted him first.
Her expression darkened immediately. She walked straight up to him, arms crossed, her presence radiating hostility. "What the hell do you want?"
Hamza looked at her, eyes tired but firm. "I just… wanted to know how she is."
Akansha let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "How she is? You mean the girl whose entire reputation you helped destroy? The girl who had to listen to people mock her, humiliate her, and doubt her because of you? That girl?" Her voice was laced with venom. "She's sick, Hamza. Because she's exhausted. Because she's drained. Because people like you ripped her apart, and she had no choice but to hold herself together for weeks. But she's strong, you know? Stronger than any of us." Her eyes burned into him. "And she doesn't need you to check on her. So leave."
Hamza's jaw tightened, but before he could say anything, Sneha appeared.
"Akansha," she said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. Let's not do this here."
Akansha scoffed but stepped back, her gaze still cold.
Sneha turned to Hamza, her expression softer but still firm. "Hamza, I think you should leave. Shumaila needs space. You being here right now… won't help."
There was no anger in her voice, no direct hostility—but the disappointment was there.
Hamza didn't argue. He simply gave a slow nod and walked away.
But even as he left, he couldn't shake the weight settling in his chest.
By the time Shumaila finally returned, everything had changed.
The university that once shunned her had now turned to guilt. Apologies filled the air, though few were spoken directly to her face.
The biggest shock came when she went to open her locker.
Inside, there were letters—so many letters. Some neatly folded, others rushed and barely readable. Alongside them were chocolates, roses, and small notes of regret.
Komal, who stood beside her, raised an eyebrow. "What the—"
Shumaila stared, stunned. "Did I… open the wrong locker?"
Siddarth, who had just arrived, let out a low whistle. "Damn. Seems like the university finally figured out they were idiots."
Shumaila didn't know what to say. She reached for one of the notes hesitantly, unfolding it slowly.
'I'm sorry for believing the rumors. I wish I had spoken up.'
Another one read:
'I should've trusted you instead of following the crowd. I hope you can forgive us.'
She swallowed hard, unsure of how to feel. This wasn't what she had expected.
Komal left the two, as she was running late for her class.
While Shumaila processed the unexpected scene at her locker, Hamza was making his way toward her.
He had heard from a few students that they had spotted her, and without thinking, he rushed to find her.
But before he could reach her, Karan got there first.
Shumaila had just shut her locker when Karan stepped up beside her. "Hey," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "You're finally back. You doing okay?"
She turned to look at him, her eyes guarded. "I'm fine."
Her tone was short, distant.
Karan noticed immediately. "You think I was involved with them, don't you?"
Shumaila said nothing, but her lack of response was an answer in itself. She moved to walk away, but Karan reached out and gently grabbed her wrist. "Shumaila, wait. Just… give me a chance to explain."
Before she could react, Siddarth interjected.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Siddarth's voice was sharp, and he stepped between them. His eyes flickered to where Karan was holding her wrist. "Let her go. Now."
Karan sighed, releasing his hold, but he didn't back down. "I wasn't trying to bother her. I just—"
"I don't care what you were trying to do," Siddarth cut him off. "If she wants to leave, you let her leave."
Shumaila exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before looking at Karan. "Siddarth, it's fine."
Karan turned back to her, searching her face. "You don't have to believe me right now, but I will explain everything to you. To all of you. Just… give me that much."
She didn't reply, didn't nod or shake her head. She just stood there, unreadable.
Finally, Karan sighed and took a step back. "I'll find a way to fix this." And with that, he walked away.
Unbeknownst to them, Hamza had been standing nearby the entire time.
He had seen everything.
He couldn't hear the words exchanged, but he saw Karan's hand around Shumaila's wrist. Saw the way Siddarth had intervened. Saw the way Karan had insisted on talking to her.
And something about it didn't sit right with him.
His hands clenched at his sides before he could stop himself. It was irrational. He had no right to feel anything about this.
But he did.