novelraw Chapter 200: Odds
Chapter 200: Odds
The fluorescent lights buzzed above as trays clattered and bacon sizzled behind the counter, but none of it registered for the Georgia Tech breakfast crowd at the Brittain Dining Hall.
But none of it mattered.
Not today.
They were too busy staring at him. The wielder of the Thigh-GrabTM. Bringer of the Curve CollapseTM. The Prince of Pleasure himself - and he was alone. For the second time in a row!
Bharath stood in the middle of the dining hall, holding a tray of French toast sticks and watery orange juice, flanked by Jorge and Ravi like bodyguards escorting a dazed celebrity.
And for once?
There was no Sarah leaning on his shoulder.
No Marisol whispering in his ear.
Just… him. Plain hoodie. Wild hair. Alone.
The whispers became a tidal wave. The fall of House Bharath had begun.
Across the hall, a freshman spilled his milk watching Bharath sit down with the boys at the long table near the windows.
Two girls in oversized denim jackets physically stopped mid-step in the cereal aisle, one whispering, “Oh my God. He’s alone. Again!”
Rumors had sparked the night before - a few whispers in the basement lounge after someone spotted him walking into Smith Hall unaccompanied.
But now?
Now it was confirmed.
The King walked without his queens.
Tyrel was the first to break the silence, glancing around at the gawking crowd like he was in a nature documentary.
“Brah,” he said, biting into a sausage link. “You’re being watched like you just ran over the Ramblin’ Wreck.”
Jorge leaned in, trying not to laugh. “I think someone just sketched your obituary on a napkin.”
“It says, ‘Here lies Bharath. Loved by two, now abandoned by both,’” Ravi added helpfully.
Bharath rubbed his forehead. “They’re just at Marisol’s mom’s place finishing the Diwali costumes. We planned this.”
LaTasha sauntered up to the table, plopping down next to Tyrel with a grin. “Mmm-hmm. Try telling them that.”
She jerked her thumb toward a group of stunned girls frozen over their oatmeal like they were watching Titanic in real life.
Camila and Nandita followed, both laughing before they even sat.
“You would not believe the whispers outside,” Camila said. “One girl said, ‘What if Marisol found out he’s been secretly married to Sarah this whole time?’”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Nandita added. “Some frat bro by the library asked if Bharath had ‘emotionally disbanded the harem to pursue enlightenment.’”
LaTasha took a long sip of her chocolate milk. “Y’all, he just slept in a dorm room and didn’t get groped in his sleep for once. Let the man breathe.”
“Honestly,” Camila said, pretending to fan herself with a napkin. “It’s nice seeing you actually use your legs instead of getting dragged everywhere by desire.”
Jorge and Ravi exploded in laughter.
Bharath stared at them. “How am I the drama?”
Nandita grinned. “Dude, you are the drama. Own it.”
The gang split up outside, the morning sun creeping over campus.
Camila kissed Jorge on the cheek and headed toward Skiles Walk.
LaTasha adjusted Tyrel’s hoodie collar before letting him go, smirking. “If people ask, just say we’re still together. I don’t want rumors about you too.”
“You sure?” Tyrel asked. “We could throw ‘em off the scent, say I left you to become a monk.”
LaTasha raised an eyebrow. “You? Celibate? Please.”
She walked away laughing. Nandita gave Ravi a peck as well that made Ravi turn crimson.
Bharath, Ravi, and Jorge turned to head up the library steps toward the CS building, and that’s when it happened.
Again.
The murmuring.
The side glances.
The whispers.
One girl actually stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and said, out loud, “That’s the second time he’s alone.”
A guy in a Nirvana shirt turned to his friend and muttered, “He looked happier with them. Maybe he cracked. Too much pressure.”
“I heard he’s transferring,” someone else whispered.
A guy handing out flyers for a recycling drive leaned into Bharath. “Blink twice if you’re being emotionally held hostage.”
Ravi’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, they’ve built an entire narrative in twelve hours.”
Jorge nodded solemnly. “This is what happens when you’re hot and emotionally available. People expect you to suffer publicly.”
Bharath covered his face with one hand. “I just want to go to class.”
The quad outside the College of Computing had become a full-blown media circus without a single camera in sight.
Word had spread like printer paper fire in the CS lab.
Marisol and Sarah were spotted walking to class together.Without Bharath.Again.
This was their second consecutive sighting sans king aka the prince of pleasure.
And that? That was cause for alarm.
By the vending machines, two business majors - who seemed to be doing brisk business - had set up a fold-out table with a sign that read:
ODDS ON BHARATH’S BREAKUP
1:3 - Girls are now dating each other
1:2 - The girls tell him it’s not him. It’s them
2:1 - Bharath ran out of Wild Stone
3:1 - The girls have become immune to Wild Stone
5:1 - Bharath is starting a new harem
6:1 - Marisol stabs Bharath. x2 bonus for blood
7:1 - Sarah spits on Bharath after Marisol beats him up. x2 bonus for blood
8:1 - All three break up live on the CoC steps
12:1 - Surprise marriage proposal
30:1 - Bharath is an alien and will get beamed up now that his mission on Earth is over
Beside them, a poli-sci student was collecting data on public sentiment: “Would you support Bharath in a post-throuple future? Circle yes or no.”
A guy in an “X-Files” T-shirt paced like a campaign manager. “This is a campus event. It’s got drama, it’s got romance, it’s got movement - all we need is resolution.”
Even the football team abandoned their practice to watch that morning.
It wasn’t just that Bharath was absent.
It was the way Marisol and Sarah had walked in.
Linked arms. Tight smiles. Lips pursed.
No teasing. No post-makeout glow. No flirtatious dishevelment.
It was clinical.
And that? That meant trouble.
Someone from the Zeta Psi porch whispered, “They’ve gone full Ellen De Generes and Anne Heche.”
Others speculated a public falling-out was planned for the noon rush.
“I bet they dump him,” one guy whispered. “I bet $100 on the breakup. I got 8:1 odds. Easiest $800 I’m going to make.”
“With a crowd.”
“Maybe with pie.”