I spent the next hour focused on the computer screen. I was meticulously updating the student records and cross-referencing the digital files with the physical folders on the desk. Mr. Deshmukh remained at his main desk, occasionally scribbling notes or moving papers. The professional silence was broken when his mobile phone began to ring.

I tried to keep my eyes on the monitor, but the tension in the room shifted instantly. Mr. Deshmukh answered the call with a weary sigh. It was his wife. Even from across the room, I could hear the sharp, piercing quality of her voice through the speaker. She was not just talking; she was interrogating him.

“I told you, I am at the college,” Mr. Deshmukh said. His voice was incredibly patient, but there was a tremor of exhaustion in it. “Yes, there is work to be done. No, I am not alone, the staff is here. Why would you say that?”

He went on to explain his schedule in great detail, almost as if he were a witness on a stand. He was pleading with her to believe him, his tone becoming increasingly defensive yet remaining soft. I felt a knot of discomfort in my stomach. It was painful to hear a man of his stature being grilled like a child.

“I will be home by five,” he promised. “Please, let us not do this now. I have a meeting.”

The call ended abruptly. I heard the sound of the phone being placed heavily on the desk. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Mr. Deshmukh was sitting with his head in his hands. He looked utterly defeated, the usual cheerful poise completely gone. He didn’t even notice that I had stopped typing.

I finished my final entry and saved the file. I knew I should probably just leave the room, but my heart went out to him. I couldn’t simply ignore the raw emotion I had just witnessed. I stood up and walked toward his desk.

“Sir, I have finished the updates,” I said quietly.

He didn’t look up at first. He was fiddling with a heavy glass paperweight, turning it over and over in his palm. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, trapped in the stress of that phone call.

“Sir?” I pressed. “Is everything okay? You seem really stressed.”

He glanced up then. His eyes looked tired, and for the first time, he didn’t look away immediately. “It is nothing new, madam. Let it go. You said the work is finished?”

“Yes, the files are updated,” I replied. I stayed where I was, refusing to let the subject drop. “But that call... it clearly upset you. I could hear how she was speaking to you. Is everything alright?”

He let out a long, shaky sigh and leaned back in his leather chair. “Fate deals us our cards, Priya. What can one do? The path of honesty is often littered with stones. It is difficult when the person you share your life with chooses to see shadows where there is only light.”

“But sir,” I said, my voice filled with genuine concern. “You are so composed and principled. Why would anyone…I mean, your wife…treat you that way? It is very harsh. I am sorry if I am intruding, but I have observed you these past months, and it just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He looked at the paperweight again. “Misunderstandings can shatter bonds. Ours is a prime example. When suspicion is ingrained from the beginning, the situation becomes hopeless.”

He stopped and looked at me, “You have probably heard the whispers about me in the staff room? People often resent those who serve their duties without expecting extra rewards, so they spread poison to feel better about themselves.”

I thought about Meera’s warnings and felt a flush of guilt. “People talk too much, sir.”

“They do,” he agreed quietly, looking at the paperweight again, “But I will not stray from my principles. I am accustomed to the gossip. It is a part of the job when you hold a position of authority.”

I felt a deep surge of sympathy for him. He was a man who stood by his values even while his personal life was crumbling and his reputation was being attacked.

I realized in that moment that the man sitting before me was not a predator, but someone who was very, very lonely.

I remained standing by his desk, unable to walk away from the vulnerability he had shown. I mean how could I when my seniour is in the state of almost breaking down. The silence in the office felt different and less like a professional barrier and more like a shared space.

“Sir, if you stood up to them, the gossip would stop, I mean if you are not doing anything that gossips say then why stay silent” I suggested. I felt a sudden urge to defend him. “You shouldn’t let people say such things about you.”

“That would only fuel it, Priya,” he said, shaking his head slowly, looking outside form window. “They crave a reaction. If I fight, I acknowledge that their lies have power. Even my own wife believes the lies others feed her. It shows how scarce trust is these days. When the one person who should know your heart doubts you, the words of strangers carry more weight than they should.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I agreed. I felt a pang of sadness. I thought of Rohan and how much we trusted each other. I couldn’t imagine a life where every phone call was an interrogation.

He looked up at me then, his expression becoming more focused. “I assign you more responsibilities, and I am sure tongues wag about that too. I sense it all. I see the way people look when I call you into my office.”

“People talk according to their mood sir, I don’t pay that much attention, I’m here to work that is it”

He nodded, “You know Priya, I value intelligence and integrity in the people around me. I spotted those qualities in you early on. Naturally, I gravitate toward giving you key tasks because I know they will be done correctly and with honesty. Do you feel I am mistaken in relying on you?”

“Not in the least, sir,” I replied firmly. I felt a swell of pride. “Those with pure intentions have nothing to fear. You’re right; it is others who are wrong for thinking poorly of a professional relationship.”

“Thank you, madam,” he said. He seemed to relax slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “It is very reassuring that you see it that way. It makes the burden a little lighter to know I have one person on the staff who understands my perspective.”

That conversation sparked a deep sympathy in me. Over the next few days, I found myself speaking with him more openly.

We talked about the college, the students, and eventually, various topics beyond work. I realized that the smears on his character that Meera had mentioned were entirely baseless. He was a man of depth and sorrow, not a man of scandals.

Our interactions grew comfortable. I no longer felt flustered when he looked at me; instead, I felt a sense of loyalty. So, when a teachers’ conference in another city was announced, and he casually asked if I would join the delegation, I said yes without a second thought.

“It will be a good opportunity to learn how other institutions are handling the digital transition,” he had said during a brief meeting.

“I agree, sir. I would like to attend,” I had told him.

The COVID situation was emerging and its grip was tightening slowly, but at the time, we didn’t realize how serious it would become. Another female teacher from the department was also scheduled to attend, so the arrangement felt perfectly appropriate.

I told Rohan about the trip, and he was supportive, knowing how much I valued my career.

I felt a sense of excitement about the journey. I looked forward to the professional growth, and secretly, I looked forward to the quiet conversations I would have with Mr. Deshmukh away from the prying eyes of the college staff room.

I felt that I was helping him by being a friend, and that thought made me feel good about myself.

The morning of our departure arrived, but it brought with it a sudden and stressful complication.

I was finishing my final checks at home when my phone buzzed with a message. It was from the other female teacher who was supposed to accompany us. Her husband had just tested positive for COVID, and she was forced to cancel her trip and enter immediate quarantine.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the screen. My stomach twisted into a tight knot of unease. The plan had been safe and balanced, but now the balance was gone. I would be the only woman traveling with Mr. Deshmukh.

“What is it, Priya?” Rohan asked. He was standing by the door, holding our son in his arms.

“Sunita cannot come,” I said. I showed him the message. “Her husband is sick. I will be the only one going from our department besides the principal.”

Rohan frowned slightly, but he did not seem suspicious. “That is unfortunate for her. But the conference is still happening, right?”

“Yes,” I replied. “It is a crucial event. Skipping it now would require a very solid reason, and I do not have one. The administration has already paid for it, and the ticket was expensive. Also, they have booked a quite comfortable bus too with two sleeping couches, which is again a lot of money for the administration if they ask why I did not attend. I don’t understand how I can say no to Mr Deshmukh now.”

“Calm down Priya” he said

“How do I Rohan?”, I felt a wave of apprehension.

I wondered if I should make an excuse and stay back. But then I thought of Mr. Deshmukh. I remembered his defeated look in the office and how much he valued my integrity. If I backed out now, it might look like I didn’t trust him, or worse, like I believed the rumors Meera had shared. I decided that I had to be professional.

“I have to go, Rohan,” I said, more to convince myself than him. “It is just a academic conference trip. We will be busy with sessions most of the time anyway.”

“I know Priya, that is why I said Calm down”

I nodded and sighed, he sat next to me wraping his arms around me, “Don’t worry, just go for it”

I nodded and hugged him tight, "Thanks Rohan"