Rain clouds covered the sky since morning,
making the entire classroom dull and sleepy.
The fans moved lazily above everyone's heads while students revised formulas half-heartedly before lectures began.
Some discussed chemistry practical files.
Others panicked over physics derivations.
Anaya sat near the window quietly with a mathematics notebook open in front of her.
Differentiation.
Again.
[frac{d}{dx}(x^2 + 3x + 1)]
Simple.
Yet somehow,
her answer kept turning wrong because she skipped steps too quickly.
She stared at the rough page irritably.
[\frac{d}{dx}(x^2)=2x]
Then why had she written x earlier?
Wonderful.
"Did you even sleep?"
Alisha dropped dramatically onto the bench beside her while flipping through chemistry notes.
"Hm."
"That means no."
Anaya ignored the comment and continued solving.
[\frac{d}{dx}(3x)=3]
Finally.
Correct.
At least one thing worked today.
"You're doing maths before chemistry practical?"
"I'll study chemistry later."
"You said that yesterday too."
Without replying,
Anaya flipped another page filled with self-made notes.
Most students attended tuition somewhere after school.
She did not.
So physics numericals,
mathematics problems,
chemistry equations—
everything depended on her understanding things alone somehow.
Sometimes she managed well.
Sometimes she completely failed.
Still,
she kept trying.
Before the conversation could continue,
the classroom suddenly became silent.
Aarav entered calmly,
holding a register and two books.
Same unreadable face.
Same cold atmosphere.
Without greeting anyone,
he began writing formulas across the board immediately.
[\lim_{x \to 0} \frac{\sin x}{x}=1]
The sound of chalk against the board echoed sharply through the quiet room.
Anaya lowered her eyes toward the notebook instantly.
It simply felt easier that way now.
The lecture continued normally for several minutes.
Questions.
Methods.
Solutions.
Students hurriedly copied notes before Aarav erased the board too quickly.
Half the class already looked confused.
Anaya tried focusing sincerely.
Really sincerely this time.
But midway through one solution,
she lost the next step entirely.
Her fingers tightened slowly around the pen.
For several seconds,
she stared at the board silently.
Then finally—
"Sir…"
No response.
Aarav continued explaining without even turning around.
Something inside her chest became irritated instantly.
Fine.
Of course.
Two minutes later,
another student asked almost the same doubt.
This time Aarav stopped immediately.
"If \sin x approaches zero,
then denominator also approaches zero," he explained calmly while writing another step beneath the formula.
Students nodded in understanding.
Anaya looked down at her notebook so hard that the pen nearly tore the page.
Khadoos.
What exactly was his problem?
If he disliked her that much,
he could simply say it directly.
Why behave as though she did not even exist?
The rest of the lecture became impossible to focus on after that.
Even while solving problems,
the same irritation remained stuck inside her head.
The silence.
The ignored voice.
The calm expression.
Again and again,
the scene replayed.
And every single time,
her frustration worsened.
Near the end of class,
Aarav suddenly closed the register.
"Written test tomorrow."
Instant complaints spread across the classroom.
"Sir please—"
"We have chemistry practical too—"
"Tomorrow," Aarav repeated calmly.
Silence returned immediately.
Anaya shut her notebook harder than necessary.
Perfect.
Exactly what she needed.
More pressure.
Lunch break turned chaotic after that.
Students revised formulas desperately while discussing physics chapters loudly.
"Current electricity is impossible."
"No, ray optics is worse."
"Did you complete organic chemistry reactions?"
Anaya sat quietly near the corridor window with physics notes spread across her lap.
Ray optics derivations covered nearly three pages already.
[\frac{1}{f}=\frac{1}{v}-\frac{1}{u}]
She stared at the mirror formula tiredly.
Convex mirror.
Concave mirror.
Magnification.
Everything mixed together inside her head now.
She rubbed her forehead slowly before forcing herself to continue.
Focus.
Just focus.
But after barely two lines,
her mind replayed the classroom again.
"Sir…"
Silence.
Anaya immediately closed the notebook in irritation.
Why was she even thinking about this again?
It was ridiculous.
He was just a teacher.
A strict,
irritating,
emotionless teacher.
Then why did every small thing remain inside her head for so long?
Annoyed with herself,
she reopened the notebook roughly.
If she kept getting distracted like this,
physics alone would destroy her before final exams.
That evening,
the house was unusually noisy again.
Relatives had come over unexpectedly,
filling the living room with endless conversations.
Children shouted somewhere near the kitchen while elders discussed studies,
marks,
and careers loudly.
Normally,
Anaya would quietly sit with everyone.
Today,
her patience disappeared within minutes.
Every little sound felt irritating.
After sitting silently for some time,
she suddenly stood up and walked toward her room.
Her younger sister followed immediately.
"What happened now?"
"Nothing."
"You look angry."
"I am angry."
"At whom?"
Anaya threw the physics notebook onto the bed irritably.
"At a khadoos teacher who thinks ignoring students is some kind of talent."
Her sister burst into laughter instantly.
"The same teacher again?"
"He ignored my doubt completely."
"Maybe he didn't hear."
"He heard."
"How do you know?"
"Because everyone else heard."
For several seconds,
the room became quiet.
Then Anaya reopened the mathematics notebook again.
Differentiation steps covered half the page messily.
[frac{d}{dx}(x^3)=3x^2]
She stared at the solution blankly.
And once again,
without permission,
the classroom scene replayed inside her mind.
The silence.
The ignored voice.
The cold expression.
Anaya shut the notebook immediately in frustration.
Why was she still thinking about it?
That was the most irritating part.
Not him.
Herself.
Because no matter how hard she tried focusing on studies—
somehow,
her mind kept returning to the same classroom again and again.
And she hated that more than anything.