HIS OBSESSION MY RUIN

The air in the 11th-standard classroom felt thin that September morning, thick only with the palpable anticipation of change. Alisha, small in stature but with eyes that held the quiet focus of a devoted scholar, was meticulously highlighting notes when the whispers started. The new admission. Every head snapped toward the door, even Alisha glanced up, momentarily pulled from her world of textbooks.He walked in, and the room seemed to momentarily dim around him. Manas. Tall, devastatingly handsome, and carrying the kind of effortless arrogance that only immense wealth and power could foster. His father was an influential man, a fact Manas wore like an expensive, invisible cloak. The girls in the class, usually preoccupied with trivial teenage dramas, were instantly captivated, their attraction a nearly visible force field around him. Manas, however, moved with an almost insulting indifference, his eyes sweeping across the room with a cold, proprietary gaze. He was a force to be reckoned with, a natural-born leader—or perhaps, a natural-born dictator. Students, even the senior boys, instinctively shrank from his entourage, wary of his quick temper and the power it represented. He was a troublemaker, a master of mischief, and his presence immediately injected a tense, unpredictable energy into the school's rhythm. He settled into a desk, seemingly aloof to the collective flutter his presence had caused. But then his eyes landed on Alisha. She was a stark contrast to the flamboyant girls trying to catch his attention. Petite, unassuming, yet possessing a delicate beauty that was both striking and innocent. She wasn't gawking; she was simply turning a page, utterly absorbed in her studies. This indifference, this lack of awe, seemed to snag his attention like nothing else could. For the first time, the perpetual sneer on Manas's face softened, replaced by a deep, almost unsettling curiosity. He watched her. Ignoring the fawning whispers and the competitive glances of the other girls, he simply watched Alisha for the remainder of the day. The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Alisha, gathering her worn backpack, began her walk home, her mind already on the evening’s chemistry problems. She was not alone for long. Manas, who had left the school gates minutes after her, caught up, his long strides easily matching her small pace. "Hey," he said, the word simple, but laced with a smooth authority that brooked no argument. Alisha paused, looking up at him—he towered over her. "I need your notebook. For the homework. I'm new, so I missed the instructions." His voice was smooth, his request a thin veil over what was clearly an excuse. Alisha, ever the kind and helpful student, didn't hesitate. She was genuinely sympathetic to the 'new student' plight. She handed him the neatly covered book. As she walked away, Alisha felt a strange mix of relief that the encounter was over and a prickle of unease. Manas, standing alone on the sidewalk, held the notebook, not looking at the pages, but watching Alisha disappear around the corner. The king had found his target, and the game had begun.