Aayansh’s POV
We were all sitting inside the police station, the air thick with tension and embarrassment. What hurt the most was seeing our teachers still standing there, apologizing on our behalf taking responsibility for a mess that wasn’t theirs to begin with.
I felt ashamed.
Then suddenly, my eyes caught a familiar figure walking in.
Ruhi.
For a second, my mind went blank.
What the hell is she doing here?
I looked at Aditya. He was staring at her just as stunned as I was. Slowly, both of us turned toward Riya.
Riya noticed Ruhi too and immediately rushed toward her.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said, almost breaking down.
I stood up instinctively and tried to go to Ruuh, but a police officer stepped in front of me, stopping me with a firm hand. I tried explaining, but he didn’t listen.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
Ruhi saw the exchange. Her eyes met mine for just a second enough to calm me and she walked straight to the officer. She spoke to him quietly, confidently. Then she moved toward where our teachers were standing, speaking to them as well.
A few minutes later, all of them, the officers and the teachers walked back toward us.
One of the officers spoke, “She has spoken on behalf of both groups. If everyone apologizes to each other and agrees to compensate for the damages at the venue, this matter can be closed.”
Relief almost settled in me until
“Hell no,” one of the guys from the other group snapped. “Who the hell is she to tell us what to do?”
Something inside me snapped.
How dare he talk about my Ruuh like that?
I moved forward without thinking. Aditya, Aarav and everyone did. But the police officers immediately restrained us. The verbal fight erupted again, louder this time, chaos filling the station.
“Enough!”
Ruhi screamed.Not shouted. She screamed.
The entire police station went silent.
Even the other group froze.
I looked at her and my heart skipped.
She was furious. Not emotional. Not scared. Furious in a way I had never seen before. And I knew instantly this wasn’t good.
She took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice sharp but controlled.
“I apologize to you, officer, for raising my voice,” she said calmly. “But I can’t speak for them,” she added, pointing at the other group. “I don’t know them.”
Then she turned toward us.
“But they,” she said, pointing at us now, “will apologize. To you. And to their teachers. And then we’ll leave.”
Aditya frowned. “Why should we apologize? It wasn’t our fault and they haven’t apologized either.”
Aarav nodded in agreement.
Big mistake.
Ruhi stepped forward and smacked Aditya on the head.The sound echoed.
Clear. Loud. Undeniable.
The station went dead silent again.
Aarav immediately took a step back. “I’ll apologize,” he muttered.
Ruhi looked straight at Aditya, her eyes blazing.
“I’m not telling you to apologize because you’re wrong,” she said coldly. “I’m telling you to apologize because these officers have better things to do than settle fights between grown adults. And because your teachers thought today would be about memories not standing in a police station apologizing for you.”
We all looked at our teachers.They looked exhausted.
That was enough.
One by one, we apologized. To the officers. To our teachers.
Even the other group finally followed.
The officers gave us a strict warning and let us go.
Ruhi walked ahead, and all of us followed behind her like guilty kids.
Aarav whispered, “I’m not going anywhere near Ruhi today. She’s terrifying when she’s angry.”
Everyone nodded.
Aditya muttered, “Let’s just… not say anything stupid today. I don’t think she’d hesitate to kill us.”
Outside, Ruhi was on a call. Both groups stood together while the teachers scolded us and we listened silently. We deserved it.
Then one idiot from the other group smirked.
“So… who’s the girl? She’s hot.”
My fists clenched.
Before I could say anything, the teacher snapped, “Enough!”
Ruhi walked back toward us then.
The teachers thanked her sincerely. She brushed it off, saying the commissioner was a family friend it wasn’t a big deal.
The other group thanked her too. She just nodded politely.
Then one of them asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I didn’t wait.
I pulled Ruhi toward me, placed her beside me, and glared straight at him.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “She has a boyfriend.”
Our teacher smiled knowingly.
“Oh,” he said, “so this is the girlfriend you were talking about. Good.”
He checked the time. “It’s late. I’ll book a cab for everyone.”
Before anyone could move, Ruhi spoke politely, “Sir, wait. I’ve already arranged cars. They’ll drop you home.”
The teachers tried to refuse, but she shook her head.
“You’re already tired. And this happened because of them,” she added, pointing at us. “So it’s fine.”
I nodded. “Please, sir.”
Finally, everyone agreed.
As they left, I looked at Ruhi.
She wasn’t just strong.
She was terrifying, protective, graceful and somehow, even in her anger, perfect.
And in that moment, I knew one thing for sure
I never wanted to be on the wrong side of Ruhi’s anger.
The entire ride was painfully silent.
Ruhi sat in the front seat, staring straight ahead, her jaw tight, arms crossed. She didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t say a word.
And somehow, that silence was worse than her yelling.
None of us dared to speak. Aarav kept fidgeting. Aditya stared out of the window like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Kabir tried opening his mouth once, then immediately shut it when Ruhi shifted slightly in her seat.
I watched her quietly from the back.
She was angry. Not the loud kind, this was the dangerous kind. The kind where disappointment weighed heavier than words.
After a while, the car slowed down.
“Ruhi” Aarav started, confused.
She didn’t respond. Just turned the steering wheel and pulled into a restaurant parking lot.
“We’re stopping here,” she said flatly.
Everyone exchanged looks.
“But… home is that way,” Kabir said carefully.
“I know,” she replied. “You all haven’t eaten properly since afternoon.”
That stung.
Even now, she was thinking about us.
We got down quietly and walked inside. The waiter seated us, menus placed on the table. No one touched them.
Finally, Aarav cleared his throat.
“Ruhi… we’re really sorry.”
Aditya nodded. “Yeah. We messed up.”
“I shouldn’t have reacted,” Kabir added. “It got out of hand.”
She placed the menu down slowly.
“Out of hand?” she repeated calmly.
Everyone froze.
“You’re grown adults,” she said, her voice steady but sharp. “CEOs. Models. Married. And yet you behaved like school kids who can’t control their egos.”
No one said a word.
“You embarrassed your teachers,” she continued. “People who stood by you back then, and still did today. You dragged them into a police station because you couldn’t walk away from a comment.”
Her eyes moved to Aarav.
“You wanted to prove you’re still the same close friends?”
Then to Aditya.
“You wanted to protect your image?”
Then to all of us.
“What you proved today is how immature you still are.”
That hurt.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
“And Aayansh,” she said, finally turning toward me.
My chest tightened.
“You always stay practical then what happened today. You also fought
I nodded. I'm sorry.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “I don’t mind you standing up for yourselves. But violence? In front of your teachers? In a public place?”
I know they started the fight and you guys fought back but you guys didn't stop after teachers and others tried to stop you all, you guys didn't listen. If you guys would have backed away at that time no one would have to go to the police station the matter would have been settled there only.
She shook her head.
“That wasn’t strength. That was ego.”
Aarav lowered his head. “We’re really sorry, Ruhi. All of us.”
She looked at him for a long second.
Then she said softly, “I know.”
That one sentence carried more weight than any scolding.
“But,” she added, “apologies mean nothing if you repeat the same mistake.”
She pushed the menu toward us.
“Eat. Calm down. And promise me one thing.”
We all looked at her.
“Next time,” she said firmly, “you walk away. No matter who provokes you.”
Aditya nodded. “Promise.”
Kabir followed. “Promise.”
Aarav raised his hand. “On my life.”
I looked at her and said quietly, “I promise.”
She finally relaxed a little.
“Good,” she said. “Because I won’t bail you out again.”
That earned a weak chuckle from everyone.
Food arrived. Slowly, the tension eased. But the lesson stayed.
As I watched Ruhi take a sip of water, her anger settling but her strength still intact, I realized something.
She didn’t just protect us today.
She made us better.
And honestly?
She’s younger than all of us, yet far more practical and more grounded than we ever were. The way she handled the situation, with calm authority and quiet strength, left me in awe.
No shouting when anger would’ve been easier.
No ego when she had every right to demand respect.
Just clarity. Balance. Maturity.
I looked at her then and realized something that made my chest tighten
I wasn’t just proud of her.
I was falling for her even more.
And this time, it wasn’t because of her smile or her softness.
It was because of her strength.
Write a comment ...