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Rukmini was the heart of the campus—the kind of person everyone gravitated toward, not just because of her beauty, but because of the warmth she carried with her.

She had ambition, she was driven, and when she set her sights on something, she pursued it relentlessly.

Yet, despite her strong will, she had an effortless, easygoing nature that made her presence feel like a fresh breeze on a sweltering day.

One moment she could be intensely focused, strategising for a competition, and the next, she’d be lounging on the grass, laughing without a care in the world.

It was this perfect contradiction—her fire and her fluidity—that made her stand out.

Rukmini always did what she loved, unapologetically.

Whether it was leading a student initiative, organising an event, or skipping a lecture just because the weather was too nice to waste indoors—she followed her heart.

But one thing was certain: she never compromised on what was right.

If she saw something unjust, she wouldn’t turn a blind eye.

She wasn’t loud about it, didn’t make a show of fighting battles, but when the moment called for it, her words could cut sharper than any blade, and her quiet defiance held more power than a crowd’s uproar.

She had a habit of helping people, not because she wanted recognition, but because it was second nature to her.

If someone needed notes, she had them ready.

If a junior looked lost, she’d guide them before they even asked.

If a friend was having a bad day, she’d magically appear with their favourite snack, a joke, or just a reassuring presence.

She made kindness seem effortless.

Every guy on campus wanted her to be his girlfriend.
And why wouldn’t they?
She was smart, funny, beautiful, and carried herself with an ease that made people want to be around her.

She was the kind of girl who could make a mundane day feel special, someone who turned simple moments into memories.

Some tried to impress her with grand gestures, others resorted to silent admiration, but Rukmini never let the attention get to her head.

She treated everyone the same—with kindness, but never false hope.

To many, she was the very definition of perfection.

But she always disagreed, laughing whenever someone called her flawless.

"Perfection doesn’t exist," she would say with a knowing smile.

"We’re all just trying our best, making mistakes along the way." And somehow, that made people admire her even more.

Rukmini came from a big, influential family—one that commanded both respect and admiration.

Her father wasn’t just a politician; he was a leader in the truest sense.

People followed him not out of fear or obligation, but because they trusted him.

He had built his name on integrity, on keeping his promises, on standing by the people who had placed their faith in him.
Whether it was in grand political rallies or in the quiet streets of his hometown, he was a man who listened, who understood, who cared.

And that was why his people loved him—not as a distant figure of power, but as someone they believed in.

And Rukmini loved that about him.

She grew up watching her father work, seeing the way he carried the weight of responsibility with unwavering strength.

She watched how he spoke with conviction, how he never let power corrupt his morals.

She admired the way people’s eyes lit up when they saw him, the way they knew he would never let them down.

He was the kind of person she wanted to become.
Whenever she stood by his side, watching him interact with people, she felt an overwhelming sense of awe.

And he, in turn, nurtured her ambitions, encouraged her dreams.

Why wouldn’t he?

After all, she was his only daughter—the jewel of his family—after having five sons.

Her five older brothers adored her.

They weren’t just protective; they were practically her personal bodyguards.

From childhood, they had made it their mission to shield her from hardships, big or small.

A scraped knee? The culprit—a stray rock—was kicked into oblivion.

A tough day at school? Her brothers were already lined up with her favourite snacks, ready to make her laugh.

And as they grew older, their protectiveness only intensified.

Anyone who even thought of troubling Rukmini had to answer to them.

But for all the love in their home, there was a sorrow that never truly faded—they didn’t have their mother.

She had passed away when Rukmini was too young to remember her face clearly, leaving behind only fragments of memories and the ache of an absence that could never fully be filled.

But despite the void, Rukmini had unknowingly stepped into the role her mother left behind.

She was the glue that held them all together.

The light in their home, the warmth that softened even the roughest of days.

She made sure her father had his morning tea just the way he liked it, reminded her brothers to take breaks when they worked too hard, and somehow, amidst it all, kept the household filled with laughter.

She had learned young that love wasn’t just in words—it was in the little things.
And in giving love so freely, she had become the heart of the family.

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The city was alive with celebration.

Rukmi, the eldest of Rukmini’s five brothers, had officially taken over their father’s political party—a powerhouse that had stood tall for generations.

It wasn’t just any political entity; it was built on trust, on the unwavering support of the people, and on the principles their father had spent his life upholding.

His leadership had been a legacy, and now, with Rukmi stepping in, the excitement was palpable.

Banners lined the streets, supporters cheered his name, and a wave of hope swept through their followers.

Rukmini stood among them, her heart swelling with pride.

She had always known Rukmi was the natural successor.

He carried their father’s wisdom, his patience, and above all, his dedication to the people.

But while the people rejoiced, there was something Rukmini had grown accustomed to—unwanted attention.

She barely had time to step away from the crowd when a familiar voice called out behind her.

"Rukmini," came the deep, practiced tone, filled with the kind of self-assurance that made her inwardly sigh.

She turned, already knowing who it was.

Shishupal.

The heir of a wealthy industrialist family, a man with sharp features, a permanently smug expression, and a confidence that came more from privilege than personality.

He was well-dressed, as always, his blazer crisp, his hair perfectly in place—as if he thought appearances alone could win her over.

"I see you’re still playing the role of the devoted daughter," he remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Rukmini arched an eyebrow. "And I see you’re still under the impression that we’re close enough for you to comment on my life."

Shishupal chuckled, unbothered. "I’m just saying, Rukmini. You have everything—a powerful family, beauty, influence. And yet, you still waste your time running around doing charity work instead of enjoying life."

Rukmini crossed her arms, her patience thinning.

"You think helping people is a waste of time?"

"I think you deserve better things," Shishupal corrected, stepping slightly closer.

"Tell me, why keep rejecting me? We would be unstoppable together. Your father’s legacy, my family’s empire—we could build something no one could touch."

Rukmini exhaled through her nose, leveling him with a look that held no amusement.

"See, Shishupal, that is exactly why I keep rejecting you. You talk like I’m an asset, not a person."

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

"And what if I told you I see you as both?"

She laughed—dry, unimpressed.

"Then I’d tell you I see you as neither."

For the first time, his smirk faltered.

Rukmini patted his shoulder, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"You should really learn how to take rejection, Shishupal. It’s getting embarrassing at this point."

Before he could recover, she walked away, leaving him standing there, his charm failing him once again.

Vrinda, who had been watching from a safe distance, burst out laughing as soon as Rukmini joined her.

"You love shutting him down, don’t you?"

Rukmini sighed dramatically. "It’s exhausting at this point. He acts like he’s doing me a favor."

Vrinda nudged her. "Well, can you blame him? You have half the city’s elite running after you, and you don’t even pretend to care."

"I care about the right things," Rukmini replied with a smile.

"Which reminds me—we’re running late for the charity event."

The charity center had always been one of Rukmini’s favorite places.

It wasn’t about status, appearances, or influence here—it was about kindness, about making sure every individual felt valued.

The people here weren’t just recipients of charity; they were family.

But this time, things were different.

With their father no longer at the head of the party, Rukmini accompanied her eldest brother, Rukmi.

His presence alone commanded respect, but as they entered, it was clear who people were more excited to see.

The moment Rukmini stepped inside, the atmosphere brightened.

Smiles spread across faces, familiar voices called her name, and warmth filled the space.

She and Vrinda moved through the centre, checking in with people, making sure everyone was comfortable.

"Rukmini Didi!" a young girl with crutches beamed up at her. "You didn’t visit last week!"

Rukmini crouched beside her with a smile.

"I know, little star. I missed you! How’s your chess training going?"

The girl pouted. "I lost again!"

"Then we train harder next time," Rukmini encouraged, tapping her nose playfully.

As they moved through the hall, Vrinda noticed something.

"You’re distracted," she pointed out, folding her arms.
"Who are you looking for?"

Rukmini hesitated before answering. "Aditya."

Vrinda frowned. "Who’s Aditya?"

"He’s an 18-year-old boy here," Rukmini explained, her voice laced with affection.

"He has autism, and he’s the sweetest soul. He waits for me every time I visit—tells me all sorts of things I never even think about. Last time, he spent an hour explaining the patterns of bird migration." A fond smile tugged at her lips.

"He’s like a little brother to me."

Vrinda gave a soft smile.
"Yes he is the sweetest soul, and he sure is an 18-year-old science geek"

Rukmini rolled her eyes but laughed.

"He is though, certainly! And somehow he is… someone I want to take care of."

Vrinda nudged her. "Well, let’s find your little genius then."

And with that, Rukmini focused back on her search, determined to find the boy who had unknowingly become a bright part of her world.

Rukmini and Vrinda moved swiftly through the charity center, scanning every room, every hallway, their unease growing with every second that passed.

Aditya was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" Vrinda muttered, glancing around. "He never misses seeing you."

Rukmini bit her lip, her stomach twisting with worry.

Something felt wrong.

And then—she saw him.

Curled up in a tight ball near the dimly lit washroom corridor, Aditya sat pressed against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them like a fragile shield.

His head was tucked down, his entire body trembling ever so slightly.
Rukmini’s breath caught.

No.

Without hesitation, she rushed to him, kneeling in front of him.

"Aditya?" she called softly, trying not to startle him.

"Hey, little one… what’s wrong?"

He flinched at her voice but didn’t look up.

His fingers were gripping the fabric of his sleeves, twisting and tugging in a repetitive motion—a clear sign that something had deeply unsettled him.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aditya, talk to me. Did something happen?"

His head shook immediately.

"No… no bad… I… I okay." His voice was small, strained.

Rukmini’s heart squeezed.

He always did this—insisted he was fine even when he wasn’t, even when the world around him was crumbling.

She exchanged a worried glance with Vrinda before turning back to him.

"Alright," she said softly, making sure her voice remained steady.

"Then let’s do something fun, hmm? How about we get your favorite drink?"

At that, his fingers twitched.

Chocolate milkshake.

She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it—it was his comfort, the one thing that always made him feel safe.

After a long moment, he gave a small nod.

Rukmini exhaled in relief and carefully helped him up.

He walked slowly, hesitantly, but he followed her.

Once they reached the cafeteria, she placed the chilled chocolate milkshake in front of him.

He gripped the glass but didn’t drink immediately.

She waited.

Finally, after a few sips, his breathing seemed to even out just a little.

Only then did she try again.

"Aditya," she said softly, "I know something happened."

He stiffened.

She reached across the table, placing a gentle hand over his.

"You don’t have to be scared. You know I’m here, right?"

His fingers curled around the glass, his body language still hesitant.

"I promise," she continued, her voice unwavering, "that whatever it is, I will fix it. But I need you to trust me."
Silence.

For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t speak.

Then, in a voice so fragile it barely reached her ears, he whispered,

"Bad… touch.
I said no… I-I don’t like… but…" He shook his head rapidly as if trying to get rid of the memory. "I… I scared… I hide."

Rukmini felt something inside her snap.

Pure, unfiltered rage.

Her fingers dug into the chair, her knuckles white.

How could someone do this? How inhumane did a person have to be to prey on a boy who couldn’t even fully express his pain?

Her breathing turned shallow as she clenched her jaw, struggling to keep her emotions in check for Aditya’s sake.

But it was impossible.

Vrinda inhaled sharply beside her, but Rukmini forced herself to stay steady.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Can you tell me who?"
Aditya gulped, looking down, his breathing uneven again.

He shook his head. "No… I scared… I scared, Ruku Didi…"

The nickname shattered something inside her.

He rarely called her that—only when he was truly vulnerable.

She slid her chair closer and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"I know you’re scared," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth.

"But you don’t have to be. I’m here. Nothing will happen to you. You know I’ll protect you, don’t you?"

His eyes, wide and fearful, met hers for the first time.

She smiled, her gaze full of unshakable certainty. "I will not let anyone hurt you again."

He swallowed hard.

His lips trembled, but finally, he gave a small nod.

Then, in a barely-there whisper, he spoke the name.

Rukmini’s entire body went rigid.

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs.

The man who was supposed to care for them. The man who fed them, stayed with them, the one everyone trusted.

Rage flooded her veins.

How could he? How could anyone be so inhumane?

Aditya had trouble even processing the world the way others did, and yet he had been forced to endure something so vile, so cruel.

Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

She wanted to storm out that very second.

She wanted to find that monster and destroy him.
Tear apart every piece of the life he had built and make sure he never hurt another soul again.

But she forced herself to breathe, to remain steady—for Aditya’s sake.

She took one last deep breath before standing up.

"Vrinda," she said firmly, "stay with him."

Vrinda nodded, her own face twisted in anger.

Then, without hesitation, Rukmini turned and marched straight to her brother.

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📎Bonus Segment: 🗣📢

Author and Rukmini

Author:
Alright, Rukmini, let's get into it.
You realize you almost gave me a heart attack in this chapter, right?

Rukmini: (smugly)
I was perfectly calm. It’s not my fault you were panicking.

Author:
You call that calm? You literally barged into the situation like you were on a mission.

Rukmini: (defensive)
Because someone had to do something! Everyone else was just standing around acting like it wasn't urgent.

Author: (laughing)
True. You do have a talent for being the only one with common sense.

Rukmini: (nods proudly)
Thank you. I accept this award.

Author:
Hold up, don't get too cocky.
You also almost punched someone.

Rukmini:
(shrugging)
Almost is the key word. I showed restraint.

Author:
Barely!
If I hadn't written that interruption scene, you would've gone full WWE on them.

Rukmini: (grinning)
Hey, sometimes people need a little shaking up. For educational purposes.

Author: (sighing dramatically)
You're lucky you’re the protagonist. If it were anyone else, I'd have written consequences.

Rukmini:(innocently)
But it's me, so you let it slide.

Author:
Exactly.
(pretending to be stern)
But next time, can we not threaten to dismantle the entire setup?

Rukmini:(playfully)
No promises.

Author: (groaning)
Great. I can already feel my future stress levels rising.

Rukmini:(cheerfully)
Think of it this way: at least you’re never bored.

Author:
You know what?
Fair point.

Rukmini: (beaming)
You're welcome.

📝 Bonus Ending: 📝

A Sneak Peek

Author: (leaning in dramatically)
You know what’s coming next, right?

Rukmini: (raising an eyebrow)
Oh, I’m ready. Bring it on.

Author: (grinning mischievously)
Hope you’re ready to survive the next disaster I’m about to throw at you.

Rukmini: (grinning wider)
Bring a bigger challenge. I dare you.

Author: (pretending to take notes)
Noted: make next chapter even more chaotic.

Rukmini: (mock horror)
Wait, no, I was kidding!

Author: (cheerfully)
Too late. You challenged me. Now you must face the consequences.

Rukmini: (facepalming)
I really need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.

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