The Principal's Office — Noon Break
Khushi stood with her fingers lightly curled around the guitar strap, trying to keep her smile steady even though her heartbeat wouldn't calm. The principal leaned back in her chair, assessing her with a thoughtful gaze.
"You have talent, Miss Khushi," she said with measured grace. "But for school protocol… we need someone reputable in the city who can vouch for you. A guardian, a family reference. Someone who can stand responsible if needed. Do you have that?"
Khushi's throat tightened.
The word family always stung.
A flash of childhood — locked doors, muffled sobs, stolen innocence — flickered through her mind. She blinked rapidly, pushing the memories away. Not now. Not here. She kept her face polite, calm.
"I…" Her voice trembled before she steadied it. "I… don't have—"
Her eyes fell on the open register on the desk — names of students written in neat blue ink. She wasn't even looking for anything, just a desperate glance. And then it appeared.
Kiaan Pratap Singh.
Her breath caught. A whisper inside said this is the angel your mother might have sent you to meet. She didn't know why. She didn't know how. But she needed this chance.
The principal cleared her throat, waiting. "Miss Khushi? Do you have someone or not?"
Khushi forced a shaky smile, heart pounding so loud she feared it echoed in the silent room.
"Yes… yes, I know someone."
She prayed her voice didn't reveal her lie.
"In fact, a family whose child studies here."
The principal leaned forward with sudden interest.
"Oh? Which child?"
Khushi hesitated for a single second — then pointed gently at the register.
"Kiaan," she breathed, as if recalling a familiar memory. "Kiaan Pratap Singh. I know his family… very well. I'm almost like a daughter there."
She smiled as naturally as she could, fully aware her palms had gone cold.
Behind the half-closed office door, little Kiaan paused mid-step. He was just wandering the corridor, searching for the angel scent. The moment he heard his name his ears perked. Curious, he leaned closer — peeking through the gap.
A lady he had never seen was claiming to know him?
And his family? Like a daughter?
Kiaan frowned. If she is Mumma's angel, why is she lying? I've never seen her before…
His little heart felt torn between hope and suspicion.
Inside, Khushi bent her head slightly, whispering in her mind —
God, please forgive me. I don't want to lie… but I have no one. I just need a chance. Just one chance.
The principal smiled, satisfied.
"Well then, that makes things easier. Bring someone from Kiaan's family — preferably a parent or guardian — and have them vouch for you. If they confirm what you said…"
She closed the file with a gentle thud.
"…the music teacher post is yours."
Khushi's breath hitched with a mix of relief and dread.
Her lips formed a grateful smile, but inside she felt like her world had become a ticking clock.
Kiaan's family.
She will have to face them.
She will have to stand before strangers and pretend she belongs.
Outside the door, Kiaan's eyes widened.
She lied!
But… that scent.
That warmth.
Something inside him still whispered — Mumma's angel.
And destiny quietly tightened the strings between them.
Khushi stepped out of the principal's office, the wooden door clicking softly shut behind her. The corridor outside was bright, filled with the distant chatter of children and the echo of lunch-time laughter — but she felt strangely alone inside it.
She let her back rest against the wall, eyes closing for a moment as she exhaled shakily.
"Why is my life never simple?" she whispered under her breath. Her fingers tightened around the guitar strap like it was the only thing grounding her. "Every time I feel I'm close to something good… life reminds me I don't belong anywhere."
Her voice cracked slightly — not loud enough for anyone to hear.
She stared at the floor, eyes glossy.
"I don't know any family in this city… how will I get this job now?"
A sad laugh escaped her. "Maybe I should just leave before they find out I lied."
She pushed herself off the wall slowly, turning to walk away.
But something warm and small wrapped around her fingers.
Khushi froze.
She looked down — a tiny hand held her own. Small, soft, trembling slightly.
Khushi turned.
Kiaan stood there.
His eyes — wide, innocent, searching — met hers.
And for a heartbeat, everything went still.
The corridor noise faded, breaths softened, time stretched like a delicate thread.
Those eyes reminded her of something distant — like a memory she never lived, yet felt in her bones.
Khushi's lips parted, surprised. "You…?"
Kiaan didn't speak at first.
He only stared — as if trying to read her soul.
As if trying to understand why she felt so oddly familiar.
He finally whispered, voice fragile:
"Are you… Mumma's angel?"
Khushi blinked, stunned — not knowing what he meant, but feeling an unexplainable tug in her heart, as if someone called her from far away.
Their hands remained joined.
Two strangers.
Yet that moment felt like a bond the universe had been waiting to form.