Broken Heart — Chapter 1: The Promise
You never forget the first time someone says your name like it means something.
Like you mean something.
For me, that someone was Vijay, Vijay Sen.
I was just... ordinary in the last tier of their hierarchy.
The kind of girl teachers praised but forgot the moment class ended.
Always a first bencher, always with the right answers. But no one ever looked twice.
A scholarship student in a school filled with kids who had everything—money, last names that mattered, power.
They called it the School of Elites.
I called it the Hall of Ghosts.
Because kids like me? We were the ghosts.
Smart. Quiet. Useful. Charity and... Invisible!
But Vijay... he was the exception.
Not just rich — born rich and raised like royalty.
Tall, charming, too confident for his own good.
The kind of boy who didn’t break rules — he rewrote them.
Everyone adored him. Teachers, classmates, even the principal smiled wider when he walked by.
I didn’t like him at first.
Maybe I was jealous. Maybe I was tired of people like him always getting the world handed to them.
But then one day, he noticed me.
I was behind the auditorium, wiping my tears after failing a surprise chemistry quiz. I’d never failed anything before. I was confident with this too but... I failed. I felt like my whole world had cracked. My scholarship life was crumbling in front of me.
Suddenly, I heard a soft chuckle in front of me.
“You know, if you keep crying over formulas, they’ll start crying over you.”
I looked up, startled. He stood there — Vijay Sen— holding out an expensive looking handkerchief that smelled like pine and something expensive.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
He smiled, gave me the handkerchief, and walked away like it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal.
Because that was the first time anyone elite in this school talked to me like I was a person — not a scholarship badge or charity.
After that, things changed.
He started showing up more. In the library. At lunch. Walking the same corridors at the same time as I did.
Sometimes it felt like a coincidence.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.
He made time for me. Asked about my opinion. Shared stories that made me laugh.
We had inside jokes. Silly ones, but they were ours.
He even started bringing me coffee when I studied late in the library.
Slowly, I stopped feeling like a charity or ghost.
He sees me, I thought.
Not just my marks. Not my uniform. But me.
I started dressing better. Wearing lip balm. Smiling more.
And I let my heart believe — maybe, just maybe, I could belong in his world.
Then came the night I’ll never forget.
We were walking back from a school event. It was late. Cold.
The road was empty except for a flickering streetlight.
We were laughing about something stupid. I don’t even remember what.
And suddenly, he stopped.
“Kamna,” he said, looking at me seriously,
“Do you believe in forever?”
I laughed, unsure. “Not in this school, no.”
He took my hand gently. His hands were warm against mine, “Then let me be your exception.”
It was cheesy. Dramatic. And exactly the kind of thing a seventeen-year-old girl wants to hear.
I was stupid. I was in love.
His warm hands were assuring.
So I believed him.
What came next felt like magic.
We weren’t official, but we had our moments.
Secret notes. Late-night calls. Quiet rooftop talks.
He’d hold my hand when no one was watching.
Compliment my assignments. Encourage my dream of becoming a lawyer.
And the way he said my name…
I felt like I mattered. Like I was enough.
But now that I look back?
I was already changing. Shrinking myself just to fit into his world.
Dressing how he liked. Agreeing more than I used to. Laughing at jokes that didn’t make sense.
I didn’t even notice it happening.
That’s the thing about falling for someone — you don’t hear the pieces of yourself breaking until it’s too late.
One day, he found my sketchbook and flipped through it.
“You’re brilliant, Kamna,” he said softly.
“You could design your own future.”
I smiled like an idiot.
Because when someone like him believes in someone like me, it changes everything.
That was the day I began to dream bigger.
I saw a future. Maybe a shared one. With him, in his world.
And I was happy. Stupidly, completely happy.
Now, I know what you might be thinking.
How could a smart girl fall for this?
How could someone so invisible believe she’d ever be the exception?
But you have to understand — when you grow up unheard, unseen, forgotten...
The first person who truly looks at you becomes your whole world.
And for a short while, Vijay was mine.
But here’s the truth I learned too late:
People don’t keep things they don’t value.
And boys like Vijay don’t love girls like me —
They collect us. Like trophies. Like stories.
He said:
“Let me be your exception.”
But what he meant was:
“Let me be your exceptional lesson.”
And that…
was the beginning
of my end.
