The Favorite

Aditya Singh — When Praise Feels Like Poison

"Singh, stay a second."

Coach Carter's voice echoed as the rest of the team filed out, chattering and buzzing from the mock debate chaos.

Aditya paused at the door, binder in hand. "Yeah?"

Coach gestured toward the front of the room. "Close the door."

That was never a great sign.

But Aditya did it anyway.

He walked back slowly, keeping his face neutral.

Coach stood with his arms crossed, the kind of stance that always meant serious talk time.

"I've been watching you," he said.

Aditya raised an eyebrow. "Okay..."

"You've been sharp. Controlled. Confident. You take pressure well."

Aditya just nodded. "Thanks."

Coach's tone turned calculating. "We need that kind of leadership going forward. Especially with the rival school showdown."

Aditya blinked. "Wait—"

"I'm planning to make you team captain next semester," Carter said, like he was handing out a trophy.

Aditya froze.

It wasn't that he didn't want it — in theory. He was good. He worked hard. He cared about the team.

But something twisted in his stomach.

Then Carter kept talking.

"And honestly," he added, "you've been carrying half this group."

Aditya's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I mean, come on. Kayla's improving, but—" Carter scoffed. "Vaidya? She's been shaky lately. The whole fever act? Slowing everything down. You've seen it."

Aditya stayed silent.

Carter leaned in a bit. "She's not as sharp as you. All hustle, no instinct. Maybe it's time to cut some dead weight."

Dead. Weight.

He said it so casually.

"Even Kayla's cleaner under pressure," Carter added. "Less emotional."

Aditya blinked slowly.

Kayla — the same teammate who blanked during a single rebuttal last week. The one who still mixed up her burden of proof half the time. The one Jaanvi had helped behind the scenes.

Coach actually believed Kayla was better than her.

It was... laughable.

If it wasn't so infuriating.

"Singh?" Carter pressed. "Don't you agree?"

Aditya spoke before he could stop himself. His voice was quiet.

"Actually... no."

Carter tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

Aditya met his eyes. "Jaanvi's one of the best debaters we have. Maybe the best. If you can't see that, you're not paying attention."

Carter's jaw tightened. "She's inconsistent."

"She's sick," Aditya corrected. "And still outperforming most of us."

"You're defending her?"

"I'm stating facts," he said. His voice didn't rise — but the weight behind it? Solid. Sharp. Like his arguments on stage.

"She's emotional," Carter muttered.

"She's passionate."

"She's soft."

"She's dedicated." His eyes narrowed. "You think that makes her weak?"

A long silence stretched.

"You really think Kayla's better?" Aditya asked finally, voice dry. "Because if you do... I'd seriously recheck your metrics."

Coach didn't respond. Just stared, expression unreadable now.

But Aditya had already said what he needed to.

He didn't wait for dismissal.

He just turned, opened the door, and walked out.

The hallway outside was empty.

His fingers were clenched around the handle of his binder, white-knuckled.

Not because of what Carter said about him.

But because of what he said about her.

How many times had she heard those kinds of things without anyone standing up for her?

How long had she been quietly carrying all that weight?

How much more would she take before she finally broke?

Some honors aren't worth having.
Not when they come at someone else's cost.
Not when the wrong person gets blamed
and the best one gets ignored.