Felix, Nikhil, and Dev entered the classroom along with the rest of the students, the corridor buzzing with the kind of noise only a boys' school could produce.
City X High School was known for two things above all else—sports and academics.
It was a boys-only institution not because of outdated tradition, but because it prided itself on focus. No distractions. No unnecessary noise. Students here were expected to compete with others, and more importantly, with themselves.
Grades mattered. Rankings mattered. Representation mattered.
Felix slid into his seat near the window, Nikhil dropping into the desk beside him while Dev sat just behind. Bags hit the floor. Chairs scraped. Conversations overlapped until—
RING RING
The bell rang.
Instant silence.
The classroom door opened, and Miss Maria Fernandez stepped inside.
She was a middle-aged woman with calm eyes and a voice that carried authority without harshness. A science teacher—biology, to be precise—but more than that, someone who genuinely cared about her students.
She placed her bag on the desk and scanned the room.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning, ma'am," the class replied in unison.
"Sit down. Let me take attendance before starting our class..."
After finishing attendance, she adjusted her glasses and smiled.
"Before we begin today's lesson," she said, "there's something I'd like to announce."
Felix felt a faint tightening in his chest.
Her gaze landed on him.
"Felix Vedman," she said warmly. "Congratulations on being selected to represent our school in the interschool badminton competition."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the class.
Nikhil shot Felix a grin and lightly elbowed him. Dev offered a rare smile along with a subtle thumbs-up.
Felix stood.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, offering a polite smile.
Miss Maria nodded approvingly. "You've always shown discipline—both academically and in sports. I expect you to do well."
Felix smiled again. A practiced expression. Respectful. Grateful.
Inside, though, something stirred.
She continued, "Students like Felix remind us that consistency matters."
Felix sat as the lesson began.
As Miss Maria spoke about cellular respiration, Felix's attention drifted—not because he wasn't interested, but because her words unlocked something buried deep within him.
She had always been like this.
Supportive. Encouraging. Proud.
Too proud.
Felix remembered how easily he had flowed with her expectations. When his parents had left the choice of his career to him, he had turned to one of his mentors— Miss Maria. And when she once suggested medicine as a career— "You'd make a fine doctor, Felix."
He had nodded without hesitation.
Not because he dreamed of it.
But because it felt easier to agree.
Back then, approval had felt like direction.
He had followed it without question.
And years later, standing in sterile hospital corridors, studying books he never loved, he would realize something painfully simple:
He had never chosen that path.
He had borrowed it.
Felix clenched his jaw slightly.
Miss Maria wasn't wrong. She had wanted the best for him.
The mistake had been his—mistaking encouragement for destiny. Letting others guide his future instead of deciding it himself.
RING. RING.
The bell rang again, signaling the end of the period and pulling Felix out of his thoughts.
Students shuffled—some leaving, others staying as the timetable demanded.
Nikhil leaned over. "Teacher's pet as always."
Felix smirked faintly. "Not my fault."
Dev added from behind, "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Felix didn't respond.
Because he knew something they didn't.
Praise could become pressure.
And pressure could quietly steal choice.
Time passed, and the fourth period approached.
Felix leaned back in his chair, letting his thoughts wander. Yesterday replayed itself in fragments—courts, conversations, memories colliding inside his mind.
He didn't notice the classroom door opening.
He didn't notice the air change.
Then—
A familiar, dry voice cut through the room.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
Felix stiffened.
Vincent William.
The English teacher stepped inside, coat draped over his arm, expression sharp and unreadable. He placed his bag on the desk with deliberate slowness and surveyed the class as if assessing a room full of unfinished sentences.
Vincent Sir didn't believe in praise.
He believed in precision.
"Sit straight," he said calmly. "I can hear your slouching."
A few students adjusted immediately.
Felix sat up.
Vincent picked up a stack of papers. Noticing a few raised hands in the back—particularly Nikhil's—he spoke first.
"Before anyone asks," he said, "no, I'm not in a bad mood. This is simply my face. Happy, Mr. Roy? Now, please put your hand down."
A few suppressed chuckles rippled through the room.
Vincent's gaze flicked toward them. Silence returned instantly.
"Today," he said, tapping the papers against the desk, "we have a test."
Felix's breath caught.
A test?
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Judging by your expressions, I see we are collectively surprised."
Felix's mind raced.
Test… test…
His stomach dropped.
He remembered now.
The test had been announced days ago. Vincent Sir had even reminded him yesterday.
He had known.
And somehow—caught between memories and readjustment—he had forgotten.
Vincent continued, oblivious—or perhaps very aware.
"Essay writing and comprehension," he said. "Standard syllabus. Nothing extraordinary."
Felix swallowed.
English.
Of all subjects.
He felt Nikhil glance at him.
Dev leaned forward slightly. "You okay?" he whispered.
Felix didn't answer.
His chest tightened.
English had always been his weakest subject.
Numbers made sense. Science followed logic. Sports relied on instinct.
But English—
English demanded expression. Interpretation. Voice.
Things Felix had never been confident in.
Vincent began distributing the papers.
"As always," he said dryly, "this test will determine whether you've been paying attention—or merely existing."
A paper landed on Felix's desk.
The questions stared back at him.
Essay. Comprehension. Vocabulary.
Felix's fingers curled slowly.
'I forgot,' he thought.
Not because he was careless.
But because his mind had been suspended between who he once was and who he was trying to become.
Vincent paused near his desk.
"Vedman," he said calmly.
Felix looked up.
"I expect better than average," Vincent added. "Disappoint me creatively, not lazily."
Then he moved on.
Felix exhaled slowly.
He stared at the blank page.
This—this—was where things usually slipped.
Not in the big moments.
But in the small ones.
The moments he assumed he could fix later.
He picked up his pen.
'No more borrowed paths.'
Even if he stumbled—
This time, the choice was his.