700 ᏦᎥᏝᎧᎷᏋᏖᏒᏋᏕ ᏗᏇᏗᎩ

Chapter 15: The Key That Returned After Eight Years

FLASHBACK – 7th GRADE

The sound of lunchtime chatter filled the narrow school corridor, echoing off the old blue-painted walls. Students rushed past with steel tiffin boxes, water bottles dangling from fingers, and gossip mixing like static in the air.

Kavi pushed her glasses up her nose, laughing loudly at something her friend maha said. She walked into their 7th-grade classroom with the confidence of someone who feared nothing. Her voice always carried—a bold, steady tone that made people listen even when she wasn’t trying to lead. Her braided hair swung behind her like she was marching into a battlefield, ready for anything.

But something unusual caught her eye.

Right near the third bench, beneath a pile of notebooks, lay a small keychain.
A dull silver key attached to a navy-blue tag.

Kavi bent down, picked it up, and held it high.

“Hey! Did anyone lose a key?”
Her voice rolled across the classroom.

From the last row, a boy slowly raised his hand—Harsha.

Back then, Harsha was not the quiet, emotionless boy he later became.
He wasn’t soft-spoken, nor withdrawn.
He was quick to react, sharp with his words, and didn’t hesitate to fight when someone crossed a line.

“Yeah… it’s mine,” Harsha said.

Before Kavi could step forward to hand it back—

A hand shot out.

Siddharth.

A tall, skinny boy with a smirk permanently glued to his face. The kind of kid who loved attention, who mocked every single person just to feel stronger. He snatched the keychain from Kavi’s hand.

“Ohhh, so THIS is your stupid key?” Siddharth dangled it like a toy.
“You cried so much last week, right? Looking for it everywhere?”

Harsha’s jaw tightened.

Because Siddharth wasn’t just teasing.

Harsha knew one thing clearly: Siddharth was the one who actually stole the key.
He had grabbed Harsha’s bag the previous week, dug through it, taken the key for fun, and then “lost” it somewhere.

And now he was mocking him in front of everyone.

Kavi blinked slowly. She had just tried to help, but something was shifting—fast.

“Give it back,” Harsha said.

Siddharth laughed loudly.
“You want it? Come get it, da.”

He tossed the key in the air and caught it again.

Something snapped inside Harsha’s chest—anger, frustration, and something else, deeper, harsher.

He marched forward.

Siddharth didn’t back away.
He pushed Harsha’s shoulder—once, then again.

Harsha shoved him back.

The classroom erupted with shouts.

Kavi froze where she stood.
This was not the harmless argument she expected.

Siddharth swung first.
His fist connected directly with Harsha’s left shoulder—hard.

Harsha staggered, pain shooting up his arm, but he didn’t step back.

He grabbed Siddharth by the collar and slammed him against the desk.

Students gasped. Someone yelled, “Sir is coming!” but nobody ran.