A girl was standing in the back row.
She was thin, her uniform a little too loose, her hair tied in a single braid that looked hastily done. She rarely spoke; some thought she was mute, others thought she was invisible. She always sat alone, eyes lowered, a presence that blended into the furniture.
But now her voice filled the room. Trembling, yes. But steady enough to silence everyone.
"You shouldn't erase the ritual," she said. "It has… meaning. It's not just burning papers. It's tradition. You people don't understand."
The weight of her words pressed on the room. Even the wall clock seemed too loud.
Riya's jaw dropped. "She...she can talk?" she whispered, eyes bulging.
Arjun arched an eyebrow, intrigued rather than shocked. Meher glanced at Dev, whose smirk had faded into genuine curiosity.
And Aarya… Aarya leaned forward, pulse racing. Her detective instinct kicked in like a spark in dry grass
The rustle of paper echoed in the library classroom as Ms. Dutta closed the register. Her calm eyes scanned the group, pausing briefly on the lively front rows before settling on the quieter back.
"Fine," she said at last, tapping her pen against the desk. "Your idea is… good. But you must understand, people here have sentiments. They won't accept changes easily."
The room stilled. Aarya leaned forward in her chair. Riya nudged her under the table, eyes sparkling.
Ms. Dutta's lips curved into a small smile. "So here's my condition: I'll support it only if you're able to convince everyone in this class. Not a few voices. Not a majority. Everyone. Bring me their signatures."
Gasps, whispers, a ripple of surprise spread across the room. Ms. Dutta adjusted her glasses, unmoved. "Until then… sit down. Today's topic is The Role of Memory in Creative Writing."
A collective groan rose from some students, but Aarya's eyes lit up. This was her favorite type of subject writing pulled from lived experiences
"Think of memory not as a diary," Ms. Dutta explained, pacing slowly. "But as a seed. When you write, memory is not about reporting facts. It's about taking an emotion, an image, and letting it grow into something larger."
She looked toward the window, where afternoon sunlight pooled across the desks. "Sometimes, it is not the exact truth that matters, but the truth of feeling. For example"
She stopped abruptly. "Close your eyes."
Chairs creaked. The entire class shut their eyes reluctantly.
"Now, remember the first time you felt… betrayed. Or left out. Or deeply happy. Don't focus on the details. Focus on what your heart felt. That feeling," she tapped the board with her chalk, "is where your story begins."
Silence fell. Aarya's fingers tightened around her notebook. Her mind flashed back to a younger version of herself, sitting alone in her room, hearing voices raised in the living room. She remembered the ache of knowing she couldn't change anything.
A line slipped into her notebook almost on its own: "A house full of people can still feel colder than an empty room."
She blinked. That was hers. That was real.
When they opened their eyes, Ms. Dutta smiled knowingly. "That's how you write stories worth reading."
ending the session. Ms. Dutta gathered her books, but the students lingered, buzzing about the signatures challenge.
Arjun, of course, stood first. His presence was magnetic; even when he did nothing, half the class seemed to orbit around him. He stretched, ran a hand through his hair, then with theatrical seriousness declared, "Fine. I'll do it. I'll get the signatures."
Aarya smirked. Riya rolled her eyes. Someone whispered, "Of course you will…"
Arjun moved desk to desk, laughing, teasing, making jokes, dropping compliments so casually it was unfair. People melted. One by one, the signatures appeared on his sheet.
When he reached the far end of the room, only a few names remained. He turned with a grin. "See? Easy."
That's when she stood up.
Anjali.
The quiet girl who everyone thought was almost mute. She always sat in the back, eyes down, books stacked neatly. But now she rose, voice sharp and cutting the air like glass.
"I don't agree."
The whole class froze.
It wasn't just the objection; it was the fact that she had spoken at all. For weeks, she had been a ghost present, but silent. To hear her voice, loud and steady, was shocking enough to make a few jaws drop.
Arjun raised his brows. "And why not?"
Her glare burned. "Because this is reckless. You're changing tradition just because you feel like it. Who are you to decide?"
The room buzzed. Some whispered, some giggled nervously.
Arjun, annoyingly calm, leaned on her desk. "Who am I? I'm just the guy who actually does things instead of sitting quietly." His smile was razor-sharp. "And who are you, exactly?"
Anjali's face hardened, but she said nothing more.
Before the tension snapped, Meher's laugh rang out, bright and careless. She clutched her stomach, half-doubled over. "Ohhh… finally, someone dared to glare at Arjun. I thought it would never happen."
The room broke into nervous chuckles. Arjun didn't move. His eyes slid toward Meher, his smirk intact. "Did you forget something, Meher? We're on the same team."
Her laughter caught in her throat. "Eh"
"Exactly." Arjun dropped the pile of signed sheets onto her desk with a little bow. "So now, it's your responsibility to get the work done. Convince her."
Meher blinked. "Wait, what? Me?"
"Yes, you." He grinned wider. "If you fail, then maybe you're not as convincing as you pretend to be."
Gasps. Teasing whistles.
Meher slapped her forehead. "Unbelievable. You're just dumping this on me!"
"Dumping?" Arjun put a hand on his chest like he'd been stabbed. "I'm entrusting. There's a difference."
The class laughed.
Meher turned pleading eyes toward Riya and Aarya, who were already deep in animated conversation with classmates about story ideas. She waved at them desperately.
Riya spotted her, smirked, and leaned toward Aarya. "Ignore her."
Aarya bit back a laugh. "Why?"
"Because you don't know her skills." Riya's voice dropped to a mischievous whisper. "Meher could convince Yamraj himself to return her to Earth because she doesn't want to go to hell. She's just acting helpless."
Aarya giggled into her notebook. "You're kidding."
"I'm not. You'll see."
Aarya's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Then let's go. I really want to see her do it firsthand."
Riya grinned. "Fine. Let's not miss the show."
They walked over slowly, dragging it out just enough to make Meher frown harder.
"Finally!" Meher clasped her hands like a beggar. "You two are heartless. Do you enjoy watching me suffer?"
"Yes," Riya deadpanned.
"Absolutely," Aarya added, poker-faced.
Meher groaned dramatically. "Traitors."
From the back of the room, Arjun exchanged a look with Dev, who had been watching silently the whole time. Dev's lips quirked up in that small, knowing smile of his. Without a word, the two of them followed after the girls, curiosity plain in their stride