**The holidays had begun the previous day.**
This morning felt a little different. Because of the winter break, neither Anurag Sir nor Anirban Sir had gone to school today.
By the time afternoon stretched toward three o'clock, Anirban Sir was standing on the veranda with a cup of tea in his hand. Just then he heard an unusual sound—footsteps in shoes, bursts of laughter, the high-pitched shouts and chatter of girls.
When the gate opened, his eyes widened in shock!
Nearly fifty girls poured in—some with bags slung over their shoulders, others carrying files, a few wearing large dangling earrings as though they had come for a picnic. Bright tops, skirts, kurti-jeans—everyone dressed vibrantly. Anirban Sir froze.
"Good heavens…! What… what are all of them doing here?" His brows furrowed in disbelief.
Anurag Sir, who had been standing at the far end of the veranda watering the potted plants behind him, turned at the noise. He saw the massive group of girls entering, with yet another wave slowly following from the back.
"Anurag… has your house suddenly turned into a student assembly starting today?" Anirban Sir's tone was half-teasing, half-incredulous.
Anurag Sir himself was stunned into silence for a few moments.
"I… I told them they could come to discuss the project topic. I never imagined the entire class would show up!" There was a faint note of embarrassment in his voice.
Anirban Sir gave a wry smile and said playfully,
"Looks like everyone likes you a little too much."
Anurag Sir didn't know what to say.
Ria stepped forward and said brightly,
"Sir, you told us to think about 'Daily Chemistry'—so we came today to discuss it!"
"All of you at once!?" Anirban Sir stared with his mouth slightly open.
Megha laughed and added,
"Sir, honestly, your house is so beautiful! The trees, the veranda, the courtyard—it feels less like a project discussion and more like we've come for a picnic!"
A few others giggled and chimed in,
"Sir, today we're going to sit in your garden and chat—and you have to treat us all!"
Childlike excitement filled the air.
The girls spread out across the courtyard—some sitting under the trees, others wandering around exploring the house.
---
Everyone had come. Megha, Vaishali, Ria, Madhurima, Tanisha, Debsmita, Parineeta, Aishika, Prathama, Ishika—even the quiet girls who usually stayed in the background were here.
But Sneha had not come.
Somewhere deep inside, Anurag Sir had quietly hoped she would. Without realizing it, he had expected her.
A faint pang of disappointment settled over him.
Why hadn't Sneha come? Did she have other plans? Was she unwell? Or… had she simply chosen not to?
A strange emptiness gathered in his chest, one he couldn't quite explain. Yet as a teacher, he wasn't supposed to feel such things.
"You okay, Anurag?" Anirban Sir asked, standing beside him.
"Yes… yes, I'm fine." Anurag gave a small smile, but there was no color in his voice.
"Looks like all your students have turned you into a movie hero!" Anirban Sir laughed again.
Anurag Sir said nothing. He simply turned his gaze toward the courtyard gate.
The gate stood open.
But still… Sneha had not come.
---
**Meanwhile.**
That afternoon, Aunt suddenly entered the room and sat down quietly. There was an odd, thoughtful shadow on her face. Sneha was at her study table—eyes on the book, but mind elsewhere. Aunt watched her for a long time before speaking abruptly.
"Sneha, get ready properly this evening. Some guests are coming to the house today."
Sneha looked up, surprised.
"What's the matter, Aunt?"
Aunt said,
"It's about your marriage."
It felt as though the sky had crashed down on Sneha's head.
"You're such a beautiful girl—it's only natural that good proposals will come for you. The boy's parents want to see you. Very good family."
Sneha's heart thudded painfully. Before her eyes floated the calm, gentle, soft-spoken face of Anurag Sir from school.
"I… I never even thought about any of this…"
"Quiet, Sneha," Aunt interrupted quickly. "A girl from a modest lower-middle-class family like ours would be lucky to get such a big family alliance."
Sneha's heart sank.
A short while later, Uncle came and called,
"Sneha, wear something nice. Some guests are coming today."
Sneha stared at her uncle in astonishment.
Uncle continued,
"Get ready. We'll handle the rest. Stay cheerful and speak calmly."
As evening darkened under cloudy skies, a large car pulled up on the road in front of the house. A gleaming white BMW.
Three people stepped out—an elegantly dressed couple and a handsome young man.
The young man carried an air of confidence; his clothes bore the mark of expensive brands. His eyes and demeanor held the natural arrogance of an urban elite. He was twenty-seven.
His name was Riddhiman Sen. Son of an aristocratic family.
Riddhiman's father—Bishwajit Sen—was a prominent industrialist.
Their sprawling bungalow on the outskirts of Kolkata was called "Bishwa Niketan," named after Bishwajit Sen himself. A major businessman in the city, he had reduced many powerful people to insignificance simply with money.
His wife, Shrabani Sen, never missed an opportunity to mention her taste, her class, her London-bought products, and her "compassion" toward "poor relatives."
In their clothes, their behavior, even the way they walked, there was an unmistakable arrogance—as though everything they desired in this world could be bought with wealth.
Riddhiman Sen was their only son.
As soon as Bishwajit entered the room, he declared,
"Look, we don't mix with ordinary families. My son studied abroad. Right now, we have the right to choose."
Shrabani Sen added,
"We want a girl for our son who can keep him happy. That's all we need. Because everything else we already have."
While Aunt listened with lowered head, nodding respectfully, Sneha stood silently nearby—her mind far away.
Riddhiman's gaze was fixed on Sneha, unblinking. His eyes seemed stuck.
Sneha kept her head down, but she could feel it—his stare wasn't on her face. It kept returning to one particular aspect of her figure. As though his eyes were dissecting her.
Disgust slowly gathered inside her.
This Riddhiman might look smart, smell of expensive perfume, but his gaze carried shameless greed—eyes that felt no shame.
Though Sneha's uncle and aunt hesitated at first, Shrabani Sen spoke plainly,
"Our Riddhiman has liked your niece very much. She has become his wish. And we always fulfill our son's every wish. We want the marriage to happen as soon as possible."
Aunt's eyes widened in surprise.
"But Sneha is still very young…"
Shrabani Sen laughed lightly.
"Young? Girls these days mature at sixteen. And your girl… well, she's a little more than most…"
Sneha flushed with shame at the remark.
Her uncle and aunt looked uncomfortable.
Then, abruptly, Shrabani Sen asked a deeply humiliating question:
"Tell me, is this girl still a virgin? Has nothing ever happened with anyone? We don't like used goods."
It was as though lightning had struck Sneha's uncle and aunt.
They hurriedly replied,
"No, no—what are you saying? Our girl is nothing like that."
Aunt insisted firmly,
"She's completely homely. She doesn't mix with anyone much. She speaks very little. She never goes to anyone's house in the neighborhood—always stays home. She's good at studies too. The girl is extremely shy and well-mannered."
Riddhiman smiled lightly and said,
"That's good. The rest I'll figure out myself…"
At that moment, the look in his eyes no longer tried to hide anything.
Sneha's heart turned bitter. A wave of suppressed tears rose inside her chest.
She loved someone else—someone who never looked at her that way.
She loved Anurag Sir—whose eyes had never held anything obscene, only respect, tenderness, and an otherworldly gentleness.
Shrabani Sen took a sip of tea from the glass cup and said,
"Then it's settled. We want your niece Sneha for our Riddhiman. Let's finalize the relationship. At this age, girls can… you understand… easily go astray. So we don't want to waste time."
Riddhiman continued,
"I saw her once in a shopping mall. I liked her very much. I'm ready for marriage."
He spoke as though Sneha were just another item being added to his list of cars, houses, or branded possessions.
Sneha's uncle, now somewhat uneasy, said,
"But she hasn't even turned eighteen yet…"
Shrabani Sen added again,
"Our status doesn't match yours. There are so many girls in this city who would go mad to marry my son. We've never gone to anyone's house before. You're fortunate that we came ourselves. Our son has chosen your girl—that's enough. We don't care about anything else. If my son wants it now, I'll get him married immediately. If not, then later."
By now Sneha sat with her head bowed, face calm and expressionless, as though she were not even present in the room.
Riddhiman continued to scan her from head to toe again and again.
He lifted his eyes and said,
"I like you. We want you to stand beside me—in the car, at parties, like a doll by my side."
Sneha said nothing. There was a coldness in her eyes, as though she had already left this world.
Riddhiman laughed and added,
"But if Sneha's uncle and aunt want, we can wait until she turns eighteen."
At this, Sneha's uncle and aunt felt a slight relief. Sneha remained silent.
Uncle sat with his head lowered. Aunt's face was grim.
Riddhiman ran a hand through his hair and said,
"But I do have some conditions."
To be continued...