Their growing bond

They both stood in front of the teacher with their heads bowed, unable to meet her stern gaze. Ms. Benedict, their class teacher, had been teaching this batch for the past two years. She knew every student in her class well. Though she cared deeply for them, she rarely showed it, hiding her concern behind a veil of strictness.

For the past two years, she had carefully observed and analyzed each student’s behavior, academic progress, and temperament before preparing the new seating arrangement. She had intentionally seated Kriti and Nia together, believing they would blend well.

Kriti admired Ms. Benedict greatly, especially for her teaching skills. It was because of her that Kriti had developed a genuine interest in commerce. Science had never truly excited her, and she had chosen commerce early on as the foundation of her career. Even though some of her relatives questioned her decision, Kriti never doubted herself—her parents’ support was all that mattered.

Nia, on the other hand, hadn’t chosen commerce out of passion or long-term plans. It simply intrigued her—the concepts, the logic, the clarity of explanations. She didn’t have any big dreams, except for one: teaching. The idea of becoming a teacher thrilled her.

Now, Ms. Benedict stood before them, arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable but eyes sharp.

Ms. Benedict: “Where were both of you? You’re late to class.”

Kriti, too nervous to respond, remained silent. Nia, gathering some courage, stepped up.

Nia: “Sorry, ma’am. Actually, neither of us had a watch, and we lost track of time while talking.”

Ms. Benedict looked at Nia, then turned her attention to Kriti, who was still silent.

Ms. Benedict: “Is that true, Kriti?”

Kriti could only mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, the teacher gave them a firm warning in her usual serious tone.

Ms. Benedict: “This is the last time I’m letting you into my class late. Next time, if you’re even a minute late, you’ll remain standing for the entire lecture. Is that clear?”

Kriti and Nia (in unison): “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, they were finally allowed to take their seats, quietly relieved and slightly shaken, but somehow closer than ever.

As Kriti and Nia quietly walked to their bench, a wave of mixed emotions swept over them—relief at having avoided harsher punishment, embarrassment from standing in front of the whole class, and a strange excitement they couldn't quite name.

They sat down without saying a word, the memory of Ms. Benedict’s stern tone still lingering in their ears. The classroom buzzed faintly with the teacher’s voice and the occasional rustle of notebooks, but for Kriti and Nia, the world had gone a little quiet.

Kriti stared at her textbook, the words blurring into nothing. Her heart was still racing. "Yeh Pehli baar aisa hua hoga ki I was late in class after break.. Ma'am se daant bhi padte padte bachi h" , she thought, "par mujhe Bura kyu nhi lag raha? "

Next to her, Nia flipped through her notes, pretending to be calm. But she could feel her hands tremble slightly. She glanced sideways at Kriti and found her biting her lip, trying hard to look focused.

Without thinking too much, Nia leaned a little closer and whispered, “Sorry… mere wajah se tum bhi fas gayi.”

Kriti turned to her, surprised, then smiled faintly. “Sorry mat bolo.. Tumhari akele ki galti nhi thi.. Mere bhi thi.. Mujhe bhi dhyaan rakhna chahiye tha”

Nia chuckled softly, keeping her eyes on the page. "Ma'am ne dara diya tha yaar ekdum.”

Kriti nodded. “sahi mai... Thank god unhone kuch bola nhi bas”

They exchanged a small, knowing smile. It was subtle—but in that moment, the awkward wall between them began to crumble.

Minutes passed, and class continued. Slowly, they began whispering little things to each other between the teacher’s explanations. First about the topic, then about the assignment, and finally, about random things—like how boring the previous lecture was or how noisy the group in the last row always were.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the class, Kriti closed her notebook and looked at Nia.

“Waise thanks us time bolne ke liye.. Mai toh shayad hi kuch pati.. Pata nhi bas nervous ho gayi thi bohot” she said.

Nia shrugged with a shy smile. "Thanks bolne ki jaroorat nhi h. We’re friends now, remember?”

Kriti smiled—this time a little wider. “Right… friends.”

As they packed up their things, Kriti felt lighter. The day had started like any other, but something had shifted. She wasn’t just the quiet girl anymore. She wasn’t invisible. She had a friend.

And so did Nia.

Next day,

The next morning, both Kriti and Nia felt a strange excitement bubbling inside them—a feeling they hadn’t associated with school in a long time. They were eager to see each other, to talk more, to learn more about one another. Maybe, after what felt like ages, they both had a reason to smile on their way to school.

Nia reached school first. She waited near the classroom door, a quiet but unmistakable smile on her lips. Kriti, too, had arrived earlier than usual. Her eyes scanned the corridor, looking for only one face—Nia’s.

As soon as Kriti entered the class and the two girls saw each other, their faces lit up in a way words couldn’t explain. It was a happiness that needed no translation.

Nia (grinning): “Hum tumhara hi wait kar rahe the pata h.”

Kriti (surprised and smiling): “Sahi mai? Thank you!”

Kriti took her seat beside Nia. It was summer, and the school followed a weekly fan rotation system—so not every part of the class got the fan every day. Nia preferred the inner corner seats, far from the teachers’ gaze. Kriti, however, liked the seat near the aisle. Being close to the wall made her feel suffocated.

There was still some time before the first period began, so they started chatting.

Nia (with a grin): “Guess what? Aaj hum tumhare pasand ka tiffin leke aaye h.”

Kriti (genuinely shocked): “Tumhe kaise pata ki mujhe kya pasand h”

Nia flashed a mischievous smile.

Nia: “ Kal tum thepla khate hue itni khush lag rahi thi toh tumhare expressions se clearly dikh raha tha. Toh maine mummy se bola ki aaj phir se thepla pack kar do. Woh pooch rahi thi ki aaj aisa kya special hai jo mujhe wahi cheez dobara le jaana hai."

She laughed, and Kriti couldn’t help but smile too.

Kriti was stunned. No one had ever noticed these little things about her before. It felt new… and special. Along with happiness, though, there was a quiet fear inside her—What if Nia, like everyone else, ends up ignoring me later? But at that moment, all she could see was Nia’s carefree smile—the kind that made everything else fade away.

Kriti (smiling warmly): “Mereko nhi pata tha ki tum itna notice karti ho. Really… thank you.”

Nia (pretending to be annoyed): “Yaar kal hi bola tha na tumse hum dost h.. Aur dost ek dusre ko yeh thank you aur sorry jaise shabd nhi bolte baar baar. Aur ek tum ho jab dekho tab thank you”

Kriti (laughing): “Okay, okay! Nhi bolungi baba. Ab gussa mat ho please ”

“I brought chowmein today.”

Nia’s eyes lit up.

Nia: “That’s one of my favorites!”

They both laughed, their tiffins tucked safely in their bags, and their conversation flowing like they’d known each other for years. Soon, the bell rang, and the classroom began to fill up. The day’s lessons were about to begin, but for Kriti and Nia, the real joy had already started—with friendship.

The initial few periods just passed by like that. The two of them would occasionally talk in between. The period right before the break was the arts period. Nia didn’t really like arts — according to her, it was useless and boring. But Kriti enjoyed it; for her, it felt like a free period in the middle of a hectic school day.

Nia: "Yaar yeh arts period kis liye hai yaar... ekdum boring lagta hai humko," she said, being clearly annoyed.

Kriti: "Itna bhi kharab nahi hai, atleast ek break toh milta hai padhai se... Waise kya paint kiya tumne? Ma’am ne bola na white t-shirt mein paint karne ke liye... Pata hai, mummy ko jab bola na ki ma’am ne t-shirt mein craft karne ko bola hai, she be like," she said mimicking her mom in a funny tone,

"Yeh kya barbaadi hai t-shirt ki? Acche khaase t-shirt ki band baja do... Kisi kaam ki nahi rahegi yeh painting ke baad, iska pocha hi banega... Buddhi nahi hai kya tumhari ma’am mein? Paper mein de na... Paper ki kami hai kya? Par na... T-shirt barbaad karwa lo bas."

Nia: "Same! Pata hai meri mummy bhi aise hi gussa kar rahi thi kal, aur humko itna hasi aa raha tha na kya bataye... Lekin grades milenge toh karna hi padega."

They both showed their paintings to each other. Kriti had drawn a cute Mickey Mouse on her little brother’s t-shirt, while Nia had painted some flowers on hers.

Kriti: "Wow yaar, yeh flowers kitne sundar banaye h tumne... Abhi tum keh rahi thi you don't like arts aur yeh dekh ke lagta nahi bilkul aisa. It's so beautiful."

Nia laughed, shaking her head as she said,

"Yeh hum nahi banaye hain... Meri didi banayi hai. Sahi bataye na... Humse nahi hoti itni mehnat. Aaj tak arts mein jitne bhi grades mile hain na sab meri didi ya cousin sisters ki wajah se mile hain. Yeh saara kaam wahi log karte hain... Infact projects bhi.. Mere se nahi hota ekdum... Aur mera chhodo na. Tumhara kitna cute hai yaar... Yeh Mickey Mouse kitna sahi lag raha hai is chotu se t-shirt pe... Tumhare bhai ka hai na?"

Kriti just nodded, smiling, then asked curiously,

"Tumhari didi and cousins kuch bolte nahi hain yeh sab ke liye? Ki tum khud banao... I mean unki bhi studies hain na, so?"

Nia: "Thoda bohot bolti hain... Par hum ek kaan se sunke dusre se nikaal dete hain. Kaam kar deti hain na bas... Thoda makkhan lagana padta aur thoda sa drama bas," she said with a mischievous smile, making her look so adorably innocent that Kriti couldn’t help but admire her.

Kriti: "Wow, sahi hai yaar."

In her mind, Kriti thought, “Didi log aisi bhi hoti hain kya? And cousins bhi... She is so lucky yaar... Yaha cousins help karne se pehle hi bolne lagte hain... Kaash mere paas bhi ek didi hoti...”

Just then, Nia’s voice brought her back to reality.

Nia: "Itna bhi sahi nahi hai yaar... Itna sunati hain din bhar kya bataye... Nia yeh karo, woh karo, isko aise mat karo, waise mat karo... Kuch apne mann se karne nahi deti hain... Baat-baat pe mummy ko complaint kar degi ya khud hi chillane lag jaayegi... Ab kya bataye yeh dukh..."

She shared all of this in a light, funny tone, while Kriti found herself once again lost in thought.

Kriti: "Nahi... nahi, koi behen nahi chahiye. Plan cancel, Bhagwaan ji... Baapre, yaha mummy ke taane jhele nahi jaa rahe, didi ke bhi sunne pade toh isse accha rehne do... Nahi chahiye koi badi behen... Hum akele hi khush hain... Shukar hai sahi time pe bata diya isne."

Just then, their arts teacher entered the classroom, holding a notebook and a faint smile on her face.

"Alright, everyone, show me your work. Let's get this checked quickly before the break starts," she said, walking between the rows of benches.

Students hurriedly placed their t-shirts on the desk in front of them, some proud, some nervous, and a few trying to hide their messy work behind others’. Kriti and Nia did the same, placing their carefully painted t-shirts in front of them.

The teacher paused beside their bench, examining Kriti’s Mickey Mouse with an approving nod.

"Very neat and creative, Kriti. Good job," she said, marking something in her notebook.

Then, she looked at Nia’s floral design. "Nice colors, Nia. A little help from someone?" she asked teasingly, giving her a knowing smile.

Nia scratched her head sheepishly and smiled back without saying a word.

The teacher chuckled and moved on, giving out grades to the rest of the class. After a few minutes, the bell rang, marking the start of the break.

The class buzzed with energy as students grabbed their tiffins and formed little groups. Kriti and Nia leaned closer to each other, opening their lunchboxes.They both burst into laughter, stealing bites from each other's boxes. Between mouthfuls and stories about annoying classmates and teachers’ weird habits, they kept checking the wall clock.

Nia: "Bas 5 minute bache hain... Let's pack up next period English ka h"

Kriti: "Haan, chalo aise bhi kal daant pad chuki h late jaane ke liye."

As the break neared its end, the class began settling down, students shuffling back to their seats.

Just like that, the class had started. Kriti and Nia sat side by side, occasionally whispering to each other and giggling at little things only they seemed to understand. Their quiet friendship had begun to bloom in full view now, and some teachers had started to notice.

One of them was their English teacher, Mrs. Neogi—a strict, composed woman who had once praised Kriti for being one of the most disciplined and quiet students in class. But now, she was watching something else: the same girl, whispering and smiling with the one she had just started sitting beside—Nia.

The class was unusually noisy that day. Small groups were chatting away in corners, a few students were laughing out loud, and a general hum filled the room. In the middle of it all, Kriti was leaning slightly toward Nia, quietly helping her with a difficult answer from the textbook.

Suddenly, a sharp bang echoed through the classroom.

Mrs. Neogi had slammed the duster on her desk, making everyone jump.

Mrs. Neogi (in a loud, stern voice):

"Is this a classroom or a fish market? What kind of behavior is this?"

"The teacher is sitting right in front of you, and all of you are busy chatting like there's no respect left for her!"

The room fell silent. Heads turned. A pin drop could have been heard.

She scanned the room with narrowed eyes, then banged the duster again—this time with even more force.

Mrs. Neogi: "Yes, the last bench—I still hear murmuring! And you, middle bench!"

(She pointed straight at Kriti.)

"Yes, you! Stand up!"

Kriti’s heart skipped a beat. Her hands went cold. What did I do wrong? she thought, fear creeping up her spine. She slowly rose from her seat, her eyes lowered, saying nothing.

Nia’s smile faded instantly. She looked from Kriti to Mrs. Neogi, worried and confused. She hadn’t meant for Kriti to get in trouble—they were just helping each other.

Kriti stood frozen, her palms clenched tightly by her sides. She had never been called out like this before—especially not in front of the whole class. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she could feel several pairs of eyes turning her way.

Mrs. Neogi walked a few steps closer, arms folded.

Mrs. Neogi: "So, Miss Kriti. Since you were busy talking, I assume you’ve already mastered the chapter. Why don’t you explain the poem to the class?"

Kriti opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out. Her throat was dry. The poem—she remembered parts of it, but in that moment, all her thoughts were drowned by panic.

Before she could say anything, a voice spoke from beside her.

Nia: "Ma’am, it was my fault."

Mrs. Neogi turned, surprised.

Nia (gathering courage): "She wasn’t talking. I asked her for help because I didn’t understand a part of the poem. She was just explaining it to me."

Kriti turned her head slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. Nia looked calm but firm, even though Kriti could sense the slight tremble in her voice. Speaking up to a teacher like Mrs. Neogi was not easy.

The class was dead silent, awaiting the teacher’s reaction. Mrs. Neogi looked at Kriti with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Her voice was firm, but not loud this time—just heavy with a sense of letdown.

Mrs. Neogi (shaking her head slightly)

"Kriti, I didn’t expect this from you."

Kriti looked up, her heart sinking

Mrs. Neogi: "You’ve always been one of the quiet, focused students in my class. I’ve even praised your discipline in front of the whole class.

(She paused, her expression hardening.)

"And today, I see you chatting in the middle of a lesson like it doesn't matter. That’s not the Kriti I know.

Kriti lowered her eyes again, guilt washing over her. Her voice came out small and hesitant

Kriti: "I’m sorry, ma’am… I didn’t mean to disrespect the class. I was only trying to help."

Mrs. Neogi let out a slow sigh

Mrs. Neogi: "Intentions don’t always excuse behavior, Kriti. There’s a time and place for everything. I hope this doesn’t repeat again.

Kriti nodded, her throat tight

Kriti: "It won’t, ma’am. I’m sorry.

There was a pause—then Mrs. Neogi turned back to the boar

Mrs. Neogi: "Sit down. Let’s continue."

Kriti quietly took her seat, trying to hold back the sting of tears. But beside her, Nia gently tapped her hand under the table in silent reassurance. Kriti looked at her, and though the scolding had hurt, that one small gesture reminded her she wasn’t alone anymore.

To be continued in the next part. Until then, enjoy the story! I’d love to hear your thoughts—don’t forget to leave a like, comment, and share your reviews. Thank you!