Desk Mate

Chapter 1: Midnight Betrayal The clock had long passed twelve. Yet Soura’s desk was still a battlefield of unfinished work...biology sketches half-drawn, physics graphs barely taking shape. "Sit back for Varun again, huh? He tricked me at the last second…" Soura muttered under his breath, dragging his pen across the graph paper in frustration. He had trusted Varun ..trusted that they’d complete the project together. But the sly jerk had pulled the ultimate last-minute betrayal. Now, Soura sat blocked, stuck with all the work alone. Betrayal by a friend. The weight of his own stupidity. And the crushing pressure of the looming deadline… Soura felt it all slam into him at once. He stared at the papers in front of him, fingers tense, mind whirling, wondering how he’d even manage this mess. Finally, in a burst of irritation, he flung the notebooks aside. A sharp “Tung!” from his phone startled him. Heart thudding, he grabbed it but seeing the notification name only made his temper spike further. "Damn it…why is she texting at this hour? So irritating," Soura groaned. Another ping. "Project complete?" That question ignited his anger. He already had too much to do, and this tiny little nudge felt like a stab in the ribs. He unlocked his phone, fingers tapping out a quick, curt response: "Do you even have the minimum sense to know when to message someone? My project isn’t done yet. Why do you care? Honestly, don’t bother me with this nonsense." He sent it, slammed the phone down. No reply came , exactly what he expected. Good. He didn’t need more distractions from the weird, meddling public around him. Earlier, he had reached out to Chayan, the only friend he could reasonably trust: "Hey, at least help me get these graphs done. I’ll finish biology by tomorrow morning." Still, no reply. Typical. The saying crossed his mind: when the elephant’s stuck in mud, even the smallest creatures kick him. Soura had been at this school for two years. First year, he had topped the class with outstanding results. But now, in higher secondary, jealousy gnawed at his classmates. His mindset was simple: if someone needed help, and he could provide it, he would. Chayan was the only friend who somewhat matched that idea. Varun, he now realized, was all act just drama. He’d grown up in a small village school. City politics, jealous peers, and fake smiles ......Soura still hadn’t fully grasped it. Why did everyone care so much about his grades? For the first time, his confidence wavered. He hadn’t expected this kind of scheming. His head throbbed from a sleepless night spent finishing the biology sketches. Tomorrow, he would have to go to Monilal Sir and explain the situation. One day. One day to plead. Sir would probably scold him, maybe even cut the project marks entirely but Soura had to try. He hated feeling so incompetent, so foolish for trusting Varun. But…what’s done is done. Every moment of life was a battle; in this fight, excuses wouldn’t save him. Only action could. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the scattered papers. The faint glow of the lamp highlighted his frustration. "Damn it, Varun…how could you? Just at the last moment, you…ugh!" His words were more hiss than voice. He slapped the notebook in front of him, leaving a smudge of pencil across the page. Soura’s phone vibrated again. Another message. Without even looking, he knew it was her , the one whose late-night curiosity he found annoying. Still, he couldn’t help a flicker of curiosity. He opened it slowly, expecting nonsense. "Everything okay with the project?" His teeth clenched. “Really? Now?” The question felt like sand in an open wound. He typed furiously: "Listen, I said don’t disturb me. My project isn’t done, and your messages aren’t helping. Please stay out of this." Sent. He put the phone facedown, muttering curses under his breath. His room, the stacks of paper, the scattered pencils , they all seemed to conspire against him, reminding him of the betrayal and the sheer mountain of work. Hours passed. Every line on the graph was a tug-of-war with exhaustion. Soura’s mind flickered with memories....first year top scorer, bright student, village kid who had proven himself in city school. And yet, here he was, second year, staring at unfinished work, feeling the bitter sting of jealousy and lies. He tried to focus. Biology diagrams. Graphs. Notes. Anything to keep his mind busy. But the tension gnawed at him. The thought of Monilal Sir’s frown, of being scolded, of possibly losing marks...it was unbearable. Yet, giving up wasn’t in his nature. "I can’t let this Varun mess ruin me. Not like this… Not ever." Soura muttered, grinding his teeth. His pen scratched harder, faster, leaving jagged lines across the page, his anger fueling precision. He could almost feel Varun’s smug face in his head and it only made him work harder. The silence of the room was heavy. Soura leaned over his work, pencils scratching furiously across paper, diagrams taking shape under his relentless focus. Outside, the city slept, oblivious to his battle against time, betrayal, and frustration. He remembered how he had always been methodical, disciplined, and precise. But tonight, rage and resentment sharpened him even more. Every line he drew on the paper was like a strike against the unfairness of the world. He refused to let Varun’s betrayal or the mounting stress break him. After hours of work, he finally sat back, exhausted, staring at the sheets spread around him. They were complete or as close to complete as they could be under the circumstances. His phone lay nearby, silent now, as if mocking him. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. The anger still simmered, but beneath it was a resolve. He wouldn’t let anyone dictate his effort or undermine his dedication. Tomorrow, he would face Monilal Sir and explain everything. Tomorrow, he would reclaim some control over his life. For now, the battle was his alone and Soura was ready to fight it, no matter the cost.