Chapter 3: Debate Practice & Glass Walls

Vermont Hill’s south wing
library wasn’t just a library—it was an architectural ego trip.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, chandeliers, and private glass-walled study rooms designed for “productive academic engagement” that mostly became gossip dens.

Ava stood outside Room G3, her debate notes clutched like armor.
She didn’t get nervous—she prepared.
And right now, she was walking into enemy territory.
She had triple-checked the sign-up sheet.
This was her assigned practice slot—with him.Through the glass, Dev Aryan Singh lounged on the velvet sofa like he owned the oxygen in the room.
Legs stretched, collar popped just enough to break rules, and a red Montblanc pen spinning between his fingers.Of course, he was already here. Early. And annoying.
She pushed the door open.“You’re late,” he said, not looking up.
“I’m exactly on time.”He tilted his head slowly, gaze flicking to her, then to the clock on the wall. “Nine seconds late. Time is money, heiress.”She shut the door behind her, ignoring the flicker in her chest at that word—heiress. He didn’t know. He was just being Dev.“Let’s just start.”She dropped her notes on the table, took the seat across from him, and cleared her throat. “Our debate topic is surveillance in private institutions. I’ll argue for regulation, you’re against it.”Dev leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Correction—I’m against being told what to do.”Ava rolled her eyes. “And I’m against wasting time, so can we stick to facts?”“Oh, I intend to. Just not yours.”The back-and-forth began. Sharp. Relentless. Each word from Ava met with a smirk and a counterstrike. Dev didn’t argue like a student—he argued like a threat. Strategic, smug, and dangerously persuasive.“You speak like someone who’s never had privacy weaponized against them,” Ava shot, pushing a page toward him.He stilled.For a second—just a second—something flickered in his eyes. Not amusement. Not contempt. Something darker. Then it was gone.“Touché,” he said softly.The silence that followed was heavier than any argument. Ava glanced at him, suddenly unsure of where the line was. Dev noticed.“Relax,” he said, pushing back in his chair. “Just didn’t expect you to go for the throat so soon.”She smirked. “Get used to it. I don’t play safe.”He grinned slowly. “Neither do I.”They worked in silence after that—well, silence laced with occasional sarcasm. Ava hated that he was clever. That his arguments made sense. That her skin prickled every time he leaned closer to glance at her notes. At some point, she stood to pin an outline on the whiteboard. Dev walked up beside her, too close again.“You know,” he said, voice low, “you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”She turned to him. “Why? Because I don’t bow to you like the others?” “Because you think not bowing won’t cost you.”For a moment, the room felt too warm. Too quiet.She met his gaze, chin high. “Are you threatening me, Singh? ”His smile was slow. Dangerous. “I don’t threaten, Verma. I just... rearrange outcomes. ”Before she could respond, the glass door swung open.Tara Basu, Queen Bee of Vermont Hill and Dev’s rumored ex, stood there with perfectly arched brows and icy lips.“Oh,” Tara said, eyes scanning Ava like she was lint. “Didn’t realize this was a tutoring session.”Ava stepped back instinctively. Dev didn’t move.“Planning to join us?” Ava asked, coolly. Tara’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “No, no. I just came to remind Dev about the alumni gala committee meeting. You’re still coming, right? ”Dev shrugged. “Maybe.”Tara lingered. “You should bring your little... project here.”Ava didn’t blink. Her lips curved in a faint smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes.“Thanks for the suggestion,” she said dryly. “But I don’t take advice from discarded toys.” Tara's smile faltered. Just for a second. Dev leaned back, clearly amused. Ava didn’t even spare him a glance. Dev’s eyes stayed on her. When the door shut behind Tara, Ava picked up her notes.“I’m done for today,” she said. Dev tilted his head. “Running away already?” “No,” she said firmly. “I just don’t like being treated like a pawn.”As she walked out, Dev leaned back again—watching her, smirking faintly. For the first time in years, he didn’t have the upper hand. And he kind of liked it.

... ( To be Continued )