The air was thick with tension as the group gathered in a secluded area of the campus, away from curious eyes and ears. Shumaila stood in the center, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Komal, Siddarth, Sneha, Akansha, Aarav, and Rudra surrounded her, forming an unspoken barrier between her and Karan.
Karan exhaled, running a hand through his hair before speaking. "I know you don't trust me. And after everything, I don't blame you. But I need you to hear me out."
Shumaila remained silent, watching him closely.
"I wasn't part of Taniya's plan," Karan continued. "I never conspired against you. But... I wasn't exactly innocent either." He glanced down briefly before meeting her gaze again. "I knew something was off, but I didn't intervene. I saw the way things were playing out, the way Taniya and her gang were manipulating people, but I stayed out of it. I let it happen."
Komal scoffed. "That's supposed to make things better?"
Karan sighed. "No. But I want you to know that I never wanted this to happen to you, Shumaila. Taniya used me to make things worse, to make you and Hamza believe there was more going on than there actually was. I should have said something earlier, but I didn't. And that's on me."
Shumaila's gaze hardened. "So you're telling me you just stood there and watched while they ruined my life? You watched them frame me, humiliate me, degrade me—and you said nothing?"
Karan's jaw tightened. "I know. I was a coward."
Siddarth took a step forward, his voice laced with anger. "Damn right, you were. You could have prevented so much of this. But you chose silence. And that makes you just as guilty."
Karan looked at Shumaila, his voice softer this time. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know the truth. And I will prove that I had nothing to do with Taniya's deeper plans. Whether you believe me or not… that's up to you."
Shumaila remained silent for a long moment before nodding stiffly. "We'll see."
Karan took the answer for what it was—a chance, however small—and walked away.
Hamza leaned against a pillar, watching from a distance.
The moment he heard someone saw the group with karan, he had instinctively gone looking for her. he didn't know why, but something inside him needed to see her. To know she was okay.
But as he stood there, watching her surrounded by her friends—watching Karan stand in front of her, talking to her—a foreign, unwelcome feeling settled in his chest.
He hated it.
He hated the way she looked so distant, yet composed. He hated that Karan was there, speaking to her like he had the right. He hated how he wasn't the one standing in front of her apologising for his actions.
Rudra approached him, arms crossed. "Don't."
Hamza turned to him, frowning. "Don't what?"
"Don't go to her right now," Rudra said firmly. "She's not ready to see you."
Hamza's hands curled into fists. "You think I don't know that?"
Rudra gave him a hard look. "Then act like it. You watching her from the shadows isn't going to fix anything."
Hamza clenched his jaw and looked away. He wanted to argue, to say something, but Rudra was right.
Hamza felt completely helpless.
Later that evening, Shumaila sat on the rooftop of the dorm building, her thoughts spiralling.
Despite the apologies, despite the letters and chocolates filling her locker, she didn't feel at peace.
Forgiveness wasn't that easy.
She kept replaying Hamza's words at the cafeteria, the venom in his voice, the way he hadn't even hesitated to believe the worst of her.
She thought about Taniya's false plan, Nisha's accusations, Karan's involvement.
Everything still felt raw, like an open wound that refused to heal.
"You're thinking too much again."
She turned to see Sneha and Akansha sitting beside her.
Akansha exhaled. "You're allowed to be angry, you know. You don't have to accept their apologies just because they suddenly feel bad."
Sneha nodded. "You're not obligated to forgive them. They're apologizing for themselves, not for you."
Shumaila sighed. "I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Akansha smirked slightly. "Do whatever the hell you want. You don't owe them anything."
And for the first time, that thought gave Shumaila a strange sense of power.
The next morning, a university-wide assembly was held. Students and professors filled the auditorium, murmurs running through the crowd.
Shumaila sat with her friends, arms crossed, already annoyed. She had no interest in being here, but since the professors had specifically asked for her presence, she had little choice.
Professor Mehta stepped onto the stage, clearing his throat. "We are gathered here today to formally address the events that have taken place in the past few weeks."
Murmurs filled the room.
"We, as faculty, failed to protect a student from public defamation. We failed to uphold the values of fairness and justice, and for that, we take responsibility." He turned to where Shumaila was sitting. "Miss Shumaila, we deeply regret what you have gone through. And we ask if you would like to say a few words."
The room fell silent.
Shumaila stiffened. She hadn't expected this.
Sneha leaned in. "You don't have to."
But Shumaila stood up.
The walk to the stage felt longer than it was. When she turned to face the sea of students, she saw their expectant faces, their guilty eyes, their shifting postures.
They wanted her to tell them it was okay. But it wasn't.
She exhaled sharply before speaking. "Do you think an apology fixes everything?"
Silence.
She let out a humorless chuckle. "You all turned on me so quickly. Without proof. Without question. You judged me, ridiculed me, and only now, when the truth is out, do you want to apologize?" Her gaze swept across the crowd. "You don't get to act like the past few weeks never happened. Because I don't have that luxury."
No one spoke.
Shumaila nodded, stepping back from the mic. "That's all I have to say."
And with that, she walked off stage, leaving the weight of her words to settle over them like a storm about to break.