Final part

Arbaaz Sir started telling his version of the story. He talked about how we went into the cabin, how we had pizza, and how he dropped me home. But in between all of this, he accepted only one thing—that he had asked me about my boyfriend.

 Everything else, he denied.

So I started questioning him about every single word and every single sentence I remembered from that night. And every time, he denied it. Then, suddenly, he started crying and said,

“I didn’t even touch her.”
Touch her?
Bro, I never said you touched me.

That wasn’t even what I was accusing you of.

 Then he started saying,
“Tell me one thing. How can a girl go along with a molester?”

He was crying, and the only thing running through my mind was—if you are the culprit here, then why are you playing the victim card?

But you know what was more difficult than Arbaaz Sir denying everything?

It was Vishesh Sir questioning me. He kept asking me why I had gone with him and why I hadn’t told anyone that same night. His behaviour was so rude, and he was treating me as if I was lying.

And I kept thinking, if I really wanted to lie, why would I say only this? I could have said he touched me. I could have said so many other things.

But I didn’t.
My intention was never to prove anyone wrong. I only wanted to point out what was happening in the office, so that in the future, no one else would have to go through the situation I had gone through. Not even me again.

He continued questioning me, and somewhere in between, the questions stopped being about what had happened and started becoming questions about my character. He was defending Arbaaz Sir in every possible way he could. But he didn’t realise that somewhere in between defending him, he had questioned the character of someone who had dared to speak up about harassment.

Maybe they simply didn’t understand that fear doesn’t always make a person run. Sometimes the body fights, sometimes it runs, sometimes it freezes, and sometimes it tries to keep the other person calm just so it can get out of the situation safely. Sometimes you say “yes” or “okay” because you are scared—not because you consent or because you are comfortable.


But somehow, I was being questioned for every decision I had made while I was afraid.
And then came his last sentence.

“I will never let any male stay with this girl if there is no one else in the office.”

That completely broke me.
I was unable to say anything.

Because somehow, after everything that had happened, the solution was not to question what had happened to me. The solution was to make sure no man was ever left alone with me.

That was the moment I realised how far the blame had shifted.
The hardest part of harassment is not always just the moment itself. Sometimes, the hardest part comes afterwards—when you have to convince people that what happened to you actually happened.

“Harassment ka sabse mushkil hissa sirf woh pal nahi hota. Kabhi-kabhi uske baad logon ko convince karna hota hai ki tumhare saath jo hua, woh sach mein hua.”

The culprit had denied everything. Then he cried. He played the victim card and somehow got away with it. There was only one question running through my mind:

Would they have asked these same questions if this had happened to someone they loved?

I came home broken. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t explain myself anymore. I just opened my diary and wrote everything down on its pages.

Because at least the pages weren’t questioning me. At least the pages weren’t asking me why I went with him. At least the pages weren’t asking me why I didn’t run.

At least the pages knew one thing.

I was the victim here.

I closed the diary.

And with that, the case was closed.