Between the Classes(Two different worlds)

Chapter 7 - Sparks of Victory

"Time!"

We exhaled together, two threads cut from the same knot.

The host turned to the scoreboard. "And that's the round! Judges, final tally, please."

The clipboard whispering, calculator buttons, the tiny whirr of the fan over our heads. In the audience, someone coughed like a drumbeat.

On my left, Rohit's knee bounced. "Whatever happens," he said breathlessly, "this was a rush."

"Don't talk," I muttered. "You'll jinx it."

He grinned. "Superstitious. Cute."

I glared at him. The glare didn't stick. Neither did my annoyance.

The judges conferred for a second more. Then the host faced the mic again, smile widened for drama.

"And the winners of the inter-department quiz competition are..."

I closed my eyes.

"...Team Physics!"

The hall exploded. Students jumped to their feet. Our bench mates pounded our shoulders. Nikki hooted so loudly he turned red. Akshu actually cried a little and then pretended something was in her eye.

I didn't move for one breath. Two. Then the sound crashed over me like a wave, and my body finally remembered how to feel happiness.

"We did it!" Rohit laughed, already half-standing. "Vidhu, we-"

He stepped toward me, arms opening for a victory hug.

He didn't reach me.

Because a cool, steady presence moved between us like a drawn curtain.

Siddharth.

His hand-firm, certain-found my shoulder and pulled me into him. Not rough. Not hesitant. Controlled, like everything he did. My cheek pressed against the crisp cotton of his shirt; I caught the faintest trace of soap and chalk.

"Good job," he said, voice close enough to feel. "You made Physics proud."

To the room, it was professional. A mentor's hug, brief and contained.

To me, it felt like the ground had tipped and everything I was slid toward him.

And then it was over. He let go at once-exactly three seconds, my brain counted like a fool-and stepped back with an easy nod like nothing had happened.

"Collect your certificates," he told us, already turning toward the table.

Rohit stood frozen, hands still hovering at his sides as if the hug had been stolen from him mid-air. Something flashed across his face-a tightness, quick and dark-before he smoothed it away and forced a grin.

"Congrats, partner," he said to me, voice lighter than his eyes. He bumped his fist against mine instead. "We killed it."

"Yeah," I managed, throat too tight. "We did."

We climbed the stage to shake hands and hold the ridiculous shiny trophy for photographs we'd all pretend to hate later. The lights were too bright. The applause went on a little too long. I smiled at the camera, then at the principal, then at the judges. When I looked toward the wings, Siddharth was already gone from the spot he'd occupied.

But I still felt the echo of his three-second calm across my skin.

⸻

After the Win

Outside the auditorium, the corridor turned into a noisy parade.

Nikki draped his arm around my shoulders like a proud uncle. "This is the victory of hard work, friendship, and my screams."