Rhea's pov
Kabir barely had time to breathe before Samar's voice hijacked the entire ground.
"NEXT PERFORMANCE—" the announcer boomed, "—VOCAL SOLO."
Neel grabbed my wrist.
"COME. NOW."
"Why?" I asked. "I've already suffered enough today."
"Because," he said gravely, "either Samar embarrasses himself or shocks the nation. Both are unmissable."
Fair point.
The auditorium was packed.
Too packed.
Students sprawled on the floor, teachers pretending they weren't excited, juniors whispering like this was a concert and not a school event with questionable acoustics.
Samar walked on stage.
In jeans.
School jacket.
Hair doing whatever it wanted.
He waved like he was greeting a crowd of fans who had paid actual money.
I buried my face in my hands.
"This is it," I muttered. "This is where our reputation dies."
Kabir leaned in. "Have faith."
"In him?" Neel scoffed. "I trust gravity more."
The music started.
Soft. Clean.
Samar lifted the mic—
And sang.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… right.
The first line hit the room and something shifted.
The whispers stopped.
Someone in the back actually went quiet.
A teacher leaned forward.
I froze.
"…Wait," I whispered. "Is he—"
"—good?" Neel finished, stunned. "Why is he GOOD?"
Kabir didn't say anything. He just watched. Focused. Almost proud.
Samar's voice filled the auditorium—warm, steady, confident. No cracks. No nerves. Just control.
I felt stupid for ever doubting him.
Around us, people were staring at the stage like they'd just unlocked a hidden level.
When the song ended, there was half a second of silence.
Then—
The place exploded.
Claps. Cheers. Whistles. Someone yelled his name.
Samar blinked like he hadn't expected that outcome.
I jumped up instantly. "THAT IDIOT."
Neel shouted, "BRO WHERE WAS THIS HIDING."
Kabir clapped, slow and deliberate.
Samar spotted us in the crowd.
His grin was blinding.
Backstage, we ambushed him.
Neel went first. "So you were just pretending to be talentless?"
Samar laughed, breathless. "I like low expectations."
Kabir added calmly, "You could've mentioned this."
Samar shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"
I crossed my arms. "You realise you emotionally traumatised us."
He grinned wider. "You're welcome."
Someone nearby whispered, "That singer was amazing."
Neel pointed at Samar. "This idiot? Yeah. Shocking, right?"
Samar bowed dramatically. "Please, applause is my oxygen."
As we walked out, still buzzing—
"DON'T GET USED TO IT," Neel yelled. "YOU'RE STILL ANNOYING."
"DEFINITELY," I added. "ONE GOOD PERFORMANCE DOESN'T ERASE YEARS OF NONSENSE."
Samar laughed, shaking his head. "I love you people."
Kabir smirked. "Don't let it get to your head."
Too late.
Samar spread his arms. "Ladies and gentlemen—my friends."
And honestly?
Watching him soak it all in—talent exposed, ego roasted, smile genuine—
I realised something.
Sometimes the loudest people carry the quietest surprises.
And sometimes?
They deserve the applause.