The corridor hummed with after-lunch chatter as Aarya trudged toward the library classroom. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, painting restless patterns across the floor. Students leaned in clusters, laughing, trading notes, talking too loudly for a library, yet somehow it all blended into the familiar pre-class noise.
Her shoes tapped against the tiles, but her mind wasn't keeping rhythm. A knot had formed in her chest ever since that talk with Sid.
What am I even doing? Busy-bodying my way into things that don't concern me? She frowned, brushing a loose strand of hair back as she walked. Cornering Mohan, poking at rumors, imagining myself some detective in a mystery novel… maybe I've gone too far this time.
The thought followed her all the way through the doorway.
She slipped inside just as a few others shuffled into their seats. The classroom still carried the faint smell of paper and ink always comforting, yet today it seemed heavy, like a weight pressing on her chest.
Before she could even settle, Riya leaned across her desk, as bright as a burst of sunlight.
"Hey!" Riya's whisper was anything but quiet. "So? How's it going?"
Aarya blinked, dragging her eyes back into focus. "Going… what?"
Riya tilted her head, mischief in her eyes. "Going in that detective-brain of yours. You've been walking around like someone handed you a locked diary and dared you not to read it."
Aarya's lips twitched. "I'm just tired," she muttered, pulling her bag onto the hook of her chair. She tried to sound casual, but the words felt flimsy even to her own ears.
Her gaze wandered almost involuntarily to the corner, where three figures Dev, Meher, and Arjun were huddled together. Heads bent, notebooks half-open, voices low but animated. They looked like conspirators in some grand scheme.
Aarya gave them a polite nod. Dev noticed first and raised a lazy hand in greeting, his grin sharp as always. Meher smiled, warm and genuine, while Arjun barely lifted his chin before diving back into whatever serious matter they were discussing.
Aarya wondered, not for the first time, how the three always seemed to have a plan brewing. And here I am, forever trying to catch up, she thought.
Her speculation was cut short when the atmosphere shifted.
Ms. Dutta walked in.
The buzz quieted as if someone had pressed mute. She wasn't the tallest teacher on staff, but she carried herself like she owned every inch of the room. Tall posture, sharp lines in her tailored kurta, and eyes that scanned the class like twin searchlights steady, unblinking, impossible to dodge.
Students often joked that even the air adjusted itself when she entered. Aarya didn't laugh at the joke anymore. She knew it was true.
Riya nudged her under the desk. "Remember your brilliant idea about the burning ritual?" she whispered.
Aarya stiffened. "What about it?"
"We're gonna pitch it today!" Riya's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Our eco-friendly project proposal. Instead of that stupid old tradition of burning papers at year's end, we suggest making bookmarks from recycled materials. Cool, right?"
"But" Aarya started, alarm prickling.
"But nothing! This is genius," Riya pressed on. "Do you know how everyone worships Ms. Dutta's words? Once she stamps it, the whole batch will fall in line." She smirked. "She's the only one who can bend the whole members of youth campaign into shape not just the creative writing class "
Aarya's eyes darted to Ms. Dutta, who was unpacking her notes with unhurried precision. No sound escaped the shuffle of papers, yet her presence alone made spines straighten.
Aarya's heart thudded. Is this really happening?
This wasn't supposed to be about saving trees or leading a campaign. She hadn't thought of it as an "eco-project" at all. The idea had come from her side hobby her relentless curiosity. The burning ritual, once a proud custom of past batches, was linked to the off-limits corner of the library where old manuscripts and submissions were kept. Sid had hinted at it, and Aarya couldn't let go of the mystery. She only suggested replacing the ritual because it would give her a reason, maybe even permission, to access that area.
And now here it was her private excuse dressed up as the class's noble mission.
Her throat went dry. She wanted to raise her hand, stop this before it snowballed. But Riya was already in motion.
"Ma'am, we have a suggestion!"
Every head turned.
Ms. Dutta looked up slowly, her expression unreadable. One eyebrow arched. "Go on."
Before Riya could even speak, the trio in the corner Dev, Meher, and Arjun rose to their feet in unison.
"Miss!" Arjun's voice cut firm through the air.
Aarya's eyes widened. Wait… are they about to pitch the same thing?
Riya, quick as always, waved the folded paper she had prepared. "We've got a written proposal here! It's about replacing the year-end burning ritual."
Ms. Dutta's gaze flicked from the paper to the trio still standing. Her silence stretched.
Aarya felt heat crawl up her neck. Why do I always end up in the middle of chaos?
Riya, undeterred, went on. She unfolded the paper with exaggerated care and began reading, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "We suggest replacing the ritual with something constructive — handmade bookmarks from recycled sheets. Each student can contribute, and instead of ashes, we'll leave behind something useful."
As she spoke, Meher stepped in, calm and precise. "It can engage the entire class. Craft workshops, maybe even an exhibition display."
Dev leaned casually against the desk, adding, "Costs will be minimal. Mostly recycled material. It's doable without burdening anyone."
Finally, Arjun crossed his arms and finished, "We can present it during the school's cultural exhibition. It'll be symbolic of creativity, not destruction."
Their teamwork was smooth, practiced. The class listened, impressed. Even Aarya, despite her inner panic, found herself nodding along.
Did I save the country in my last life? she thought wryly. How else would I deserve such forward, fearless people around me?
But guilt gnawed at her. They don't know. They don't know this idea started from my nosy curiosity. From my obsession with Mohan and that corner of the library. From something selfish.
Ms. Dutta's voice broke her spiral.
"This is interesting. A constructive alternative to a wasteful tradition. Go on."
Riya practically glowed. She explained the project details with the air of someone pitching to a boardroom. The trio chimed in, each strengthening the plan.
It sounded perfect. Almost too perfect.
Then it happened.
"I object."
The words cracked the air like thunder.
Every head turned