The soft glow of Jaanvi's desk lamp was the only light in her room as she sat cross-legged on the floor, textbooks scattered around her. The world outside was quiet—no more laughter, no footsteps echoing down the halls, just the hum of the evening settling in.
She exhaled slowly, rubbing her sore eyes. Debate practice had been draining, and though she'd prepared meticulously for tomorrow, the knot in her stomach hadn't loosened.
Her phone buzzed on the bed.
She glanced over, expecting a message from Saachi or Siya. But the screen showed something else:
Unknown Number
Curious and cautious, Jaanvi tapped the screen.
"You're slipping."
Her brow furrowed. She frowned, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Was this a prank? A wrong number?
She didn't reply.
A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again.
"That fever excuse won't work forever."
Her pulse quickened.
The messages continued coming, steady and cold.
"You're not as sharp as you think."
"Maybe you should reconsider your place on the team."
"Singh's better off without dead weight."
Jaanvi's hands trembled slightly. She felt the weight of the words settle heavily on her chest. Who was this?
She considered telling her parents or texting Saachi, but something stopped her. The tone was familiar—like the sharp edge of someone who had authority but didn't care about feelings.
Her fingers typed a quick reply:
"Who is this?"
Seconds passed.
No answer.
Then a new message appeared.
"Think carefully before you answer. This isn't a game."
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She locked the phone, trying to focus on her homework, but the words echoed louder in her mind.
Her confidence faltered.
The voice in the messages wasn't just criticizing— it was targeting her, trying to break her down.
The next morning, Jaanvi showed up at school, her usual spark dimmed. She kept her head low, avoided the usual greetings from friends, and shuffled toward her locker.
Her phone buzzed again—another message.
"You'll never be good enough."
The timing was cruel, but no one around her noticed the shadow growing deeper in her eyes.
By lunchtime, the messages were relentless.
At first, she thought about ignoring them completely.
But the words wormed their way under her skin.
She stared at the screen, fingers clutching the phone as if it might shatter.
When she finally confided in Saachi and Siya, their faces darkened.
"Jaanvi, this sounds like Coach Carter," Saachi said quietly. "He's always been harder on you than anyone else."
"Maybe he's trying to get under your skin," Siya added.
Jaanvi's heart pounded.
Could it really be him?
She'd seen that cold, disappointed look before. The way he watched her, not quite believing in her. The way he dismissed her effort.
That evening, after everyone else was asleep, Jaanvi stared at the phone screen one last time before locking it.
"Remember: you're replaceable."
She swallowed hard.
The words echoed in the silence of her room.
And somewhere deep inside, a fire ignited—not from doubt, but from defiance.
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