Rhea's pov
Samar and Neel walked ahead of us like they were leading a parade no one asked for.
Hands swinging. Voices loud. Confidence illegal.
"I'm just saying," Samar declared to the entire corridor, "Kabir looks like the kind of guy who says 'I'm not angry, I'm disappointed' and somehow ruins your whole week."
Neel nodded vigorously. "Exactly. He doesn't shout. He just stares and suddenly you want to apologize to your ancestors."
Behind them, Kabir raised an eyebrow.
Yuhan leaned slightly toward me and murmured, "This won't end well."
Kabir sped up, reached out, and gave Samar a perfectly measured slap on the shoulder.
Not hard.
Not soft.
A statement.
Samar gasped. "ASSAULT. I'VE BEEN ATTACKED."
Kabir replied calmly, "You were asking for a demonstration."
Neel clutched Samar. "Stay with me, brother."
I laughed. I couldn't stop it.
And that's when it happened.
Both Kabir and Yuhan turned to look at me.
At the same time.
Not intense. Not obvious.
Just… attentive.
Like they'd both noticed the sound of my laugh before anything else.
It was brief. They looked away almost instantly.
I pretended not to notice.
My heart pretended too.
Cafeteria.
The gates of chaos opened.
"TARGET ACQUIRED," Samar yelled, spotting samosas.
Neel sprinted. "DEFENSIVE FORMATION."
They reached the counter like it was war. Trays banged. Someone shouted. Someone lost a slipper.
I slipped in and grabbed a samosa quietly. Strategy over strength.
Kabir observed, unimpressed. "This is why civilization failed."
Yuhan added, "I've seen documentaries calmer than this."
Then came pasta.
Forks clashed like swords. Neel accused Samar of stealing cheese. Samar accused Neel of emotional manipulation.
Kabir took one bite and said, "It's… average."
Neel stared. "You can't say that word here."
Then—
"Maggie," Samar whispered, spotting it across the counter like a long-lost love.
He took a plate. Sat down. Lifted the fork.
One bite.
Silence.
He froze.
Slowly looked down.
"This," he said shakily, "is not Maggie."
Neel leaned in. "What?"
"It's… mush."
Samar's voice broke. "Overcooked. Betrayed. Emotionally unavailable."
He dropped the fork dramatically. "I waited all week for you."
Neel slammed the table. "HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO HIM?"
Samar pressed a hand to his chest. "I trusted blindly."
Juniors at the next table had stopped eating.
One of them whispered, "Is he crying?"
Samar sniffed loudly. "Don't look at me."
The cafeteria exploded with laughter.
Kabir deadpanned, "I suggest grief counseling."
Yuhan nodded. "This is a loss."
I was laughing so hard my sides hurt.
Samar stood up suddenly. "I WILL RISE FROM THIS."
Neel saluted him.
And there we were—
Five disasters.
One cafeteria.
Same chaos.
Still somehow the best part of my day.
Rhea's POV — Notes Checking: Public Execution Edition
Next period.
Teacher walks in with that look.
The one that says: Today, someone will suffer.
She placed her bag down, adjusted her glasses, and announced calmly,
"I'll be checking notebooks."
Silence.
Not the respectful kind.
The panic kind.
Because—
We. Do. Not. Take. Notes.
At best, we take emotions.
She started from the front benches.
Of course.
Those people opened their notebooks like luxury showrooms.
Margins straight. Headings underlined. Diagrams smiling.
The teacher nodded approvingly.
"Very neat. Excellent presentation."
Pearls. Literal pearls on paper.
Then she reached the middle row.
And wow.
Roast mode: ON 🔥
"What is this spacing?"
"Is this English or modern art?"
"Have you written with your eyes closed?"
I was already laughing.
Then she reached our row.
My friends opened their notebooks like criminals surrendering evidence.
She stared at Neel's page for a full five seconds.
Then:
"Is this… handwriting or ECG report?"
The class lost it.
Neel whispered, "At least my heart is alive."
She flipped Samar's notebook.
Paused.
Tilted her head.
"Did an earthquake occur while you were writing?"
Samar beamed. Actually beamed.
"I like this teacher," he whispered. "She understands me."
I was laughing so hard I had tears.
Then—
She reached my notebook.
I stopped laughing immediately.
She opened it.
Silence.
Too long.
She squinted.
Turned the notebook sideways.
Then upside down.
I felt my soul leaving my body.
"Rhea," she said gently, which was worse,
"can you read this?"
I stared at the page.
"…No, ma'am."
The class erupted.
Samar laughed like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.
Neel was holding his stomach.
Yuhan covered his mouth.
Kabir? Full smirk. Betrayal.
The teacher sighed.
"This handwriting looks like it was written by a doctor who hates humanity."
I died.
Internally. Publicly. Academically.
She moved on, still roasting others, but I could feel them laughing at me.
Samar leaned over. "Hit me after class, but this was beautiful."
I didn't even argue.
Teacher finally closed the last notebook.
"Please start writing properly," she said. "Your future depends on it."
Bell rang.
We survived.
Barely.
Samar declared, "Best roast session ever."
Neel nodded. "Teacher > us."
And me?
I decided—
I'll type my notes.