Monday mornings at St. Xavier's Senior Secondary School were always the same—crowded corridors, hurried footsteps, unfinished homework, and students trying to survive the first period. Nothing about that morning hinted that seven strangers were about to walk into a room that would change all of their lives.

The first bell rang.

Class XII-B settled into their seats as Mrs. Kavita Sharma, the English teacher, entered with a pile of answer sheets. The room instantly fell silent.

"I expected much better from this class," she said, placing the papers on the table.

Before anyone could react, laughter erupted from the back.

Ayaan Verma was busy mimicking the principal's morning speech, making half the class struggle to hold back their laughter.

"Ayaan!" Mrs. Sharma snapped.

He stood up dramatically.

"My deepest apologies, ma'am. Even I don't know what possesses me sometimes."

The class burst into laughter again.

Mrs. Sharma sighed.

"Out."

Before Ayaan could step outside, another voice interrupted.

"Ma'am, may I say something?"

It was Ayesha Khanna.

"If you're sending him out, you should send the people laughing too. Seems unfair."

Mrs. Sharma looked at her.

"So now you'll teach me how to manage my class?"

"No," Ayesha replied calmly.

"I'm just asking for equal treatment."

"Enough."

Meanwhile, in the front row, Reyansh Rathi continued solving a physics numerical in his notebook, pretending none of this concerned him.

Near the window, Akruti Mehta quietly sketched in the corner of her notebook instead of paying attention to the lesson.

On the sports ground outside, Vihaan Malhotra rushed into class five minutes late, still carrying his basketball.

"Sorry, ma'am. Coach kept us back."

Mrs. Sharma closed her eyes for a moment.

"Wonderful."

As Vihaan took his seat, a hesitant knock came from the classroom door.

"Excuse me..."

A girl stood outside with a school bag in one hand and a file in the other.

"I'm... Aashi Srivastava. I've been transferred here."

Mrs. Sharma welcomed her inside and asked her to take the only empty seat.

The seat beside Yash Kapoor.

Yash looked up for a second before lowering his eyes again.

No one had spoken to him all morning.

Most days, no one did.

Mrs. Sharma had barely resumed teaching when she noticed Akruti still drawing instead of listening.

"Akruti."

She quietly closed her sketchbook.

Then she turned toward Reyansh.

"You tell me the answer."

Reyansh answered perfectly, as expected.

Before the lesson could continue, another student threw a folded paper across the room.

It landed directly on Mrs. Sharma's desk.

Silence.

She unfolded it.

On it was a ridiculous cartoon of her.

The class froze.

Mrs. Sharma's patience finally broke.

"That's enough."

She looked around the room, then called out seven names.

"Ayaan Verma."

"Ayesha khanna."

"Vihaan Malhotra."

"Akruti Mehta."

"Aashi Srivastava."

"Yash Kapoor."

"...and Reyansh Rathi."

Every student looked around in confusion.

Even Reyansh.

"Ma'am... me?"

"Yes, you."

"But I didn't—"

"I said, now."

The seven students slowly stood.

None of them understood why they had been grouped together.

Mrs. Sharma walked to the door.

"You will report to Detention Room 17 immediately."

Whispers filled the classroom.

"The topper?"

"What did the new girl even do?"

"Poor Yash... he didn't even speak."

As the seven students walked through the corridor, an uneasy silence settled between them.

Reyansh glanced down at the answer sheet in his hand.

99/100.

A few classmates whispered, "Only Reyansh can score that."

But instead of smiling, he stared at the tiny red circle around the missing mark. His grip on the paper tightened.

"Where did that one mark go?" echoed in his mind.

Behind him, Ayaan stretched dramatically.

"Well," he announced, "at least detention is better than double Maths."

A few students chuckled as they passed, but the moment everyone looked away, the smile slipped from his face. For a brief second, he looked... tired.

Vihaan casually spun his basketball on one finger while walking, though every few steps, his hand instinctively brushed against his right knee before quickly pulling away.

Akruti wasn't paying attention to any of them. She had already pulled out a pencil and was quietly sketching the old corridor as they walked.

Aashi looked at the faded walls in confusion.

"Does this... happen often?" she asked softly.

No one answered.

A junior rushing down the hallway accidentally dropped a pile of books. Before anyone could react, Ayesha bent down to help gather them.

"Thank you, didi," the junior smiled.

Ayesha simply nodded and continued walking.

At the very back, Yash walked so quietly that Mrs. Sharma counted without looking.

"Six students..."

She paused, turned around, and blinked.

"Oh... Yash. Right."

He gave a small nod.

He was already used to being forgotten.

Finally, they stopped before an old wooden door with a tarnished brass plate.

DETENTION ROOM 17.

None of them knew it yet.

Years later, when someone would ask where their story truly began...

None of them would answer, "In Class XII."

They would all remember the same place.

Room 17.