Indhu's POV
The last bell before lunch rang faintly, and honestly, it felt like freedom ringing in slow motion.
The teacher stepped out, saying, "You have a free period," and the class exploded.
Chairs screeched, bags were slung over shoulders, voices overlapped—everyone rushed out like they'd been waiting for this exact second. Within moments, the classroom that was chaos just seconds ago felt… empty. Quiet. Almost peaceful.
We didn't move.
The five of us stayed right there in the middle row.
I rested my chin on my palm, looking around the suddenly calm room. "Why don't we do something more interesting?" I said, half bored, half curious.
Before anyone could reply, PT sir appeared at the door. "Who wants to play outside?"
A bunch of boys rushed out instantly. Even Rohan and Aditya stood up, ready to go—until Charlotte, Swetha, and I burst into giggles over something silly. Our laughter echoed across the empty benches.
Rohan sighed and sat back down.
Aditya hesitated… just for a second longer than usual. Then he quietly returned to his seat too.
So we stayed.
The classroom now felt like it belonged only to us—except for Leonor, still sitting in the corner, head bent, scribbling notes like the world didn't exist.
"What now?" Charlotte asked, spinning her pen.
That's when it hit me.
"Let's draw on the board!"
The words slipped out with excitement, like there was no other option worth considering.
And just like that, we were up.
Rohan grabbed the chalk first and drew the worst stickman I had ever seen—spiky hair, crooked limbs. Swetha laughed so hard she nearly dropped her bag. Charlotte added dramatic speech bubbles, full of sarcasm, and Rohan groaned like he was personally attacked.
I stepped in next, focusing, letting my hand move easily. My doodles came out neat, playful—small jokes hidden in clean lines. I don't know why, but I liked doing things properly, even when being silly.
Aditya stood a little aside, chalk in hand, not rushing. He watched us—the laughter, the chaos, the way the room felt lighter. Then, quietly, he wrote a small quote in the corner. Nothing flashy. Just a line. Something that felt personal.
He didn't look at it again.
That's when I noticed his back turned.
An idea sparked before I could stop myself.
I quickly took the chalk and wrote "Navami" on the back of his shirt.
When he turned around—
Charlotte let out a dramatic whistle. "I declare this art wall officially legendary."
Swetha giggled. "Until the bell rings."
And right on cue—it rang.
Panic.
We rushed to the board, laughing uncontrollably, wiping everything away. Chalk dust filled the air as our drawings vanished, erased like they were never there. By the time the rest of the class came back, the board was spotless.
Too spotless.
Leonor had seen everything. I knew it. She didn't say a word—but the look on her face told me enough.
And even though the board was clean, and the room was loud again, something stayed behind.
Between erased drawings, hidden names, and unspoken thoughts—
something quiet lingered.