"Should we simply—accept it as well?"
Lilia's voice carried through the classroom, soft yet piercing, landing like the final stroke of a carefully orchestrated strategy.
With this question, she revealed her trump card—a move so deliberate, so calculated, that it forced the entire room into uneasy contemplation.
Her hand subtly rose, shielding her mouth—an act meant to conceal the sorrow in her voice, to strengthen the fragile image she was crafting before their eyes.
But Ashok saw it for what it truly was.
He saw past the carefully arranged mask of distress, past the trembling words that carried an illusion of hurt.
Behind the shield of pitiful vulnerability, behind the act of wounded innocence, there was something else—
A smile.
Not one meant for comfort or kindness.
But one meant for victory.
'So, this was her plan all along', Ashok thought, shifting his focus ever so slightly, letting his gaze trace the expressions of the watching students from the corner of his eye.
