UNIVERSITY ARC
"Hey Deepika, I'm just here for some... uh... personal banking stuff. Ha yes…some personal banking stuff. You know how it is."
I tried to sound casual, but even I could hear the awkwardness in my voice. Personal banking stuff? What have I just said? It's deepika, man!
Deepika raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering. I know she was looking for an answer.
"Personal banking stuff? In the VIP section?" Deepika folded her arms. "Cut the act, Manoj. What are you really doing here?"
Her tone was firm, not hostile—just sharp enough to make me nervous.
I gave a small laugh, pretending not to notice the tension.
"Just some paperwork stuff, nothing special. I got lucky, that's all."
She didn't say anything for a moment. Just kept watching me with that curious, unreadable look.
I forced a smile and glanced away, hoping the silence would pass.
But deep down, I could feel it—this moment wasn't just awkward. It was... too coincidental.
Why was she here? At this exact place, at this exact time?
I told myself it didn't mean anything. Just a random meeting. Just bad timing.
But even as I thought it, I wasn't sure I believed it.
Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking—hungry for a crack in my lie. I felt cornered, but I couldn't let it show. I forced a smile.
"Alright, fine. I'm here for a loan." I shrugged, pretending to sound casual. "No crime in dreaming big, right?"
She laughed—a sharp, cruel sound that turned heads.
"A loan? From Nexus Silicon? Manoj, did you know the minimum loan here? You couldn't even get that much if you sold yourself piece by piece."
The heat crept up my neck. My fists clenched in my pockets.
"Maybe I don't have the cash," I said, voice low but steady, "but I've got ambition. That's something."
Deepika stepped closer, smirking.
"Ambition?" she echoed. "This place isn't for dreamers. It's for people with twenty floors under their name and more zeroes than you've seen in your entire life."
I looked away. Maybe to breathe. Maybe to stop myself from snapping. But her voice kept coming.
"You really thought you could fake your way through the VIP section?" She glanced around. "Should I call someone, or will you crawl out on your own?"
That was it.
I looked her dead in the eye.
"I'm here for my gold card, Deepika."
Her smile dropped.
"What?"
"You heard me."
She blinked, confused for a second—then burst out laughing.
"A gold card? You? Oh, that's rich!" she gasped between giggles. "Do you even know what that means? That card is reserved for people with generational wealth, empires, names that make headlines. You're... Manoj. From a college hostel. The only gold you've ever touched was your mom's wedding chain!"
Before I could respond, a deep voice cut in.
"Deepika."
Her father stepped beside her—tall, suit perfect, face unreadable.
"What's this about a gold card?"
She turned, still grinning.
"Dad, this guy—our classmate—says he's here to get one. Isn't that hilarious?"
Her father turned to me. His eyes didn't laugh.
"Son, that card is reserved for individuals with verified assets worth over 10 billion. You don't look like someone who qualifies."
Before I could explain—or lie again—Deepika jumped in.
"He's bluffing, Dad. He's just trying to impress someone. Pathetic, right?"
Her father's voice grew cold.
"You know what's more pathetic? Wasting people's time in a place you don't belong. Security—"
He gestured subtly.
Two tall men in black suits at the side noticed. One of them began walking toward us, the other talking into his earpiece..Each step echoed louder in my ears. I saw their earpieces glint under the lights. I could feel the heat of their attention. Was this really happening?
"Wait, that won't be necessary," I said, raising my hands. "I'll walk out on my own."
But Deepika's father gave a tight smile.
"Smart move. Don't come back unless your name carries weight."
They turned away as their token number was called.
I stood still, feeling the weight of eyes on me, the quiet buzz of judgment in the air. The guards were almost at my side.