The college infirmary was a small, sterile space that always smelled faintly of antiseptic and quiet despair. It was a place of fainting spells during morning assembly, sports injuries, and the occasional, mysterious stomach bug that swept through the hostels. Rihan had been there only once before, for a mandatory health check-up during admission, and had felt like a specimen under a microscope, his vitals called out dispassionately by the gruff, overworked nurse.
Today was different.
He walked in under the protective aegis of Ruhi Soni, and the very atmosphere of the place seemed to shift. The air itself seemed to snap to attention. The matronly nurse, Mrs. Gomes, a woman whose default expression was a weary scowl, was behind her desk, sorting through a stack of files. She looked up, and her eyes widened, first in surprise, then in a kind of flustered deference.
"President Soni," she stammered, bustling out from behind her desk, her starched white saree rustling with the movement. "Is everything alright? Are you hurt?"
"He needs attention," Ruhi said, her tone polite but leaving no room for argument. Her voice, usually so calm, had a new, harder edge to it. She guided Rihan to the nearest examination bed, her hand a firm, reassuring pressure on the small of his back. "He took a fall."
The words were simple, innocuous, but the weight behind them was immense. Mrs. Gomes's gaze flickered from Ruhi's steely expression to the gash on Rihan's temple, which had started sluggishly bleeding again, and then down to the dark, ugly bloodstains on the collar of his shirt. A flicker of understanding, and perhaps a healthy dose of fear, crossed the nurse's face. She had worked at this college for twenty years. She knew as well as anyone that boys like this didn't just 'fall'. But with the College President standing there like a royal sentinel, questions were a luxury she couldn't afford. The unspoken narrative was clear: this boy was with her, and he was to be cared for.
"Of course, of course, right away," she said, her hands fluttering as she gathered a tray of supplies.
She cleaned the wound with a practiced efficiency that belied her initial fluster. Her touch, which Rihan remembered as being rough and impatient, was now surprisingly gentle. He barely flinched, not from the sting of the antiseptic, but because his entire awareness was focused on Ruhi. She stood beside the bed, her arms crossed, watching the procedure with an unwavering, protective intensity. She didn't speak, but her presence filled the small room, a silent vow that no further harm would come to him here. When Mrs. Gomes finished applying a neat white bandage to his temple, Ruhi gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod of thanks.
"He'll need to rest," the nurse said, already backing away, eager to retreat to the safety of her desk. "And perhaps a painkiller. I have some paracetamol."
"He will," Ruhi replied, before turning to Rihan. "Let's go."
She led him not towards the boys' hostel, a place he now associated with a fresh wave of dread, but towards the Student Council office. It was a spacious, imposing room on the ground floor of the main administrative building, a hub of activity and importance he had only ever scurried past, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
Inside, the office was a reflection of its President: organized, immaculate, and quietly powerful. Polished mahogany desks were arranged neatly, files were stacked in perfect vertical lines, and a large board on one wall detailed upcoming campus events with military precision.
"Sit," she commanded softly, pointing to a plush, dark blue sofa in the corner, a piece of furniture that looked far too comfortable for a college office. She disappeared for a moment into a small adjoining kitchenette and returned with a chilled bottle of water and a steaming ceramic mug of tea. She handed him the water. "Drink."
He obeyed without question, his throat suddenly parched. He took a long, grateful sip, the cool liquid a balm to his frayed nerves. He watched as she moved about the office, her grace and confidence an almost physical force. She made a brief phone call, her back to him as she stood looking out the large window at the rain-lashed campus. Her voice was low and clipped, her words too quiet for him to hear, but the tone was chillingly precise, the sound of a surgeon issuing instructions. When she hung up, she turned back to him, her expression once again placid and unreadable.
"You'll stay with me for the rest of the day," she stated. It wasn't a question or an offer. It was a fact.
For the next few hours, Rihan sat on that sofa, a silent observer in a world he never knew existed. He felt like a stray dog that had been brought into a palace. Student council members—the secretary, the treasurer, various event heads—came and went, approaching Ruhi with a mixture of profound respect and a healthy dose of trepidation. They discussed event budgets, academic proposals, and a thorny disciplinary issue involving plagiarism. Through it all, Ruhi was the calm, unshakable center, listening patiently, her decisions swift and final.
And to every single person who entered, she would give a single, pointed look towards Rihan, a silent but clear instruction that travelled across the room. The look said, He is with me. He is not to be questioned or disturbed. He belongs here.
And no one did. They gave him a wide berth, their curious glances quickly averted when they met Ruhi's unwavering gaze. For the first time in his life, Rihan felt invisible in a good way. Not overlooked, but shielded. He was basking in the protective shade of her power, a power she wielded not with noise and aggression, but with a terrifying, silent competence.
He started to notice the little things about her. The way she tapped her silver pen against her thumb when she was deep in thought. The slight, almost imperceptible frown that creased the smooth skin between her brows when she was displeased. The way her calm, serene facade never, ever cracked, no matter the pressure. She was a fortress, impenetrable and perfectly designed.
He also noticed the fear she could inspire.
At around four o'clock, Vikas and his two main cronies were summoned to the office. Rihan's heart leaped into his throat and hammered against his ribs when they swaggered in, their usual arrogance firmly in place, smirks plastered on their faces as if they were being called for a commendation. Then they saw her, sitting behind her large, imposing desk, her fingers steepled, looking at them as if they were insects she had found crawling on her floor. And then they saw Rihan, sitting on the sofa in the corner, bandaged but safe, under her explicit watch.
The arrogance evaporated. It was like watching air being let out of a punctured tire. Their faces paled, their postures drooped, their smirks dissolved into nervous twitches.
"Vikas," Ruhi's voice was soft, almost a purr, but it cut through the room like a shard of glass. "I hear there was an incident on the stairs near the library today."
"Ma'am, it was... it was an accident," Vikas stammered, his eyes darting nervously between Ruhi and Rihan, unable to settle on either. "He's clumsy, you know how he is. He just... he fell."
Ruhi leaned forward, a predatory stillness coming over her. Her eyes narrowed. "He fell," she repeated, the words dripping with a cold, corrosive disbelief. "And you and your friends just happened to be there. Laughing. Is that how it was?"
Silence. The three hulking boys shuffled their feet, their expensive sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. None of them could meet her gaze. The power dynamic in the room had been completely inverted.
"Let me be perfectly clear," Ruhi continued, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, which was somehow more terrifying than a shout. "Rihan Malik is a friend of mine. He is under my personal protection. If so much as a hair on his head is harmed again, if I even hear a whisper of a threat directed his way from anyone, I will not go to the Disciplinary Committee. I will not go to the Principal. I will deal with it myself. And you will find that my methods are far less... bureaucratic."
She let the threat hang in the air, thick and suffocating with unspoken possibilities. She didn't need to elaborate. Her reputation, her influence, her connections—they were all implied in that simple, chilling statement. The sons of the elite understood power, and they knew they were in the presence of someone who wielded it more masterfully than they ever could.
"Am I understood?" she asked, her voice returning to its calm, level tone.
A chorus of mumbled, terrified, "Yes, ma'am," was the reply.
"Good. Now get out of my sight."
They practically scrambled over each other to leave, casting terrified, resentful glances at Rihan as they fled. Rihan's heart was still hammering against his ribs, but for the first time, it was from a potent cocktail of adrenaline and awe, not fear. He had just witnessed a masterclass in power. She hadn't raised her voice, she hadn't made a single explicit threat, but she had dismantled them completely, piece by piece, with nothing but her words and her presence.
She had spread her wings of mercy over him, and he was only just beginning to realize how vast and terrifying their shadow could be.
When they were alone again, she turned to him, the icy menace gone from her face as if it had never been there, replaced by that gentle, calm concern that made his stomach do flip-flops. "Are you okay?"
He could only nod, his throat too tight to speak.
She gave him that small, mysterious smile again. "Good. Now, about your friends..."