The corridors of Bluebells Public School buzzed like a stirred beehive.
A few students darted between classrooms, their bags half-zipped, hair windblown, homework sheets clutched like treasure maps. Some scribbled furiously on their knees, racing to finish last night's Math. Others sat inside their rooms, spines straight and lips sealed, as if their silence could summon the teacher faster.
But in Class 5-B, silence was extinct.
A tight circle had formed near the last bench, and at the center of it—like a lion among cubs—stood Abhinav Sharma, the undisputed clown, chaos-maker, and laughter king of the class.
Laughter boomed from the group, echoing down the hall. The topic?
Vansh Mehra. Abhinav's best friend. And yesterday's victim.
"I swear I thought it was the boys' washroom!" Vansh was red-faced but grinning.
"You screamed like a ghost saw you, not the other way around!" Abhinav teased.
"I screamed," Vansh pointed, "because my best friend pushed me into the girls' washroom, that too during recess!"
"Legendary moment," a girl muttered between giggles.
Vansh stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Alright. You think you're so funny?"
"I don't think," Abhinav grinned. "I know."
"Then prove it. Mimic Mrs. Lata."
The circle gasped. Even the ceiling fan slowed down.
Abhinav raised an eyebrow. "Are you challenging the crown?"
"Dethrone me, if you can," Vansh said dramatically.
Abhinav took one bold step forward, cleared his throat, adjusted his invisible saree, and snapped into character.
"Silence! Silence! Silence!" he squawked, wagging an imaginary stick.
"Your parents may have spoiled you, but I will not! One more sound and I will make PTM stand for 'Please Tolerate Me'!"
The class roared. Someone nearly fell off their chair.
Then—
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Slow. Precise. Spine-chilling.
The laughter died mid-breath.
Abhinav froze mid-pose. He turned around.
And there she was.
Mrs. Lata.
Saree perfectly pleated. Lips pursed. Eyes narrow as needlepoints.
Behind her, Vansh casually slid back into his seat—smirking.
Mrs. Lata stepped forward, her voice smooth as ice.
"Wonderful performance, Abhinav. Shall we repeat it during the Parent-Teacher Meeting? In front of your parents?"
She didn't blink. She didn't smile. She just stood there.
Still. Silent. Deadly.
And suddenly, Abhinav Sharma—the boy who never stopped laughing—had nothing to say.