So let's begin,

NEXT MORNING — CITY HOTEL ROOM — EARLY DAWN

A faint orange glow peeks through the half-drawn curtains. The city outside hums awake — the soft buzz of scooters, distant honks, vendors calling out their first sales.

Inside the cozy room — Akshu and Vanshu are a tangled mess of blankets, legs half off the bed, hair all over their faces. The phone alarm goes off — BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Vanshu flails first — smacks around blindly for the phone — nearly knocks it off the side table.

Akshu groans, pulls the blanket over her head.

Vanshu (sleepy mumble, one eye open):

"Madam… uth ja.. school ka pehla din hai… phir tu bolegi late ho gaye, uniform nahi mila, shoes kaha hai…"

She pokes Akshu’s side — Akshu yelps, throws the blanket off dramatically.

Akshu (sits up, hair a total bird’s nest):

"Uff! Vanshu tu na… ek dum alarm clock hi ban jaa! Theek hai chal!"

They tumble out of bed — feet hit the cold floor — they both shiver at the same time and laugh.

Akshu’s toothbrush is stuffed with extra paste — she tries to yell something to Vanshu through a mouthful of foam.

Akshu (muffled, foam flying):

"Vani! Meri socks kaha rakhi thi kal? Wo white wali!"

Vanshu, already half in her uniform shirt, yells back from the mirror while pinning her hair.

Vanshu (rolls her eyes):

"Bed ke bagal mein! Aur jaldi kar! Pehle din hi late ho jayenge warna!"

Within minutes, the room is a hurricane again — bedsheets tossed, open school bags, uniform ties half-knotted.

Akshu stands in front of the mirror — smoothes her pleated skirt, adjusts her collar. Vanshu helps pin her hair back neatly — banana clip still bravely in place.

Akshu (checking Vanshu’s skirt hem):

"Perfect! Hum dono dikh rahe na full topper type? Koi nahi bolega ki mid-term join kiya hai!"

Vanshu flicks Akshu’s forehead — grins.

Vanshu:

"Bilkul. Hero no. 1 aur Hero no. 2 ready. Ab bag check!"

They grab their bags — double-check books, pencil pouches, ID cards — the essentials of new beginnings.

Akshu (zips bag, suddenly dramatic):

"Nayi jagah, nayi kitaabein, naye log… par hum same! Bas kaam se kaam rakhenge… koi unnecessary drama nahi — samjhi Madam Vanshu?"

Vanshu smirks, slips her feet into polished shoes.

Vanshu (smug):

"Madam khud free ice cream scam mein master mind thi kal… aur mujhe lecture de rahi hai!"

Akshu squeals, whacks her arm with a notebook — they both giggle like kids again.

DOORWAY — FEW MINUTES LATER

Bags slung, hair neat, shoes polished — they stand at the door. Akshu smiles at Vanshu. Vanshu hooks their pinkies together — a secret pact.

Akshu (grins wide):

"Ready?"

Vanshu (nods, squeezes her pinkie):

"Always."

They step out — door clicks shut — leaving behind an empty room, two used mugs, and a messy bed.

A new day calls — new halls, new faces, new teachers, new adventures.

The city welcomes them with a soft breeze. A rickshaw waits by the gate — the driver half-asleep, radio playing an old song.

Akshu climbs in first, Vanshu plops beside her — bags in their laps, giggles in their pockets.

Vanshu (playfully serious, elbows Akshu):

"Aaj koi stunt nahi! Bas school jaana, padhna, ghar aana. Samjhi hero?"

Akshu does a mock salute.

Akshu:

"Order received Captain! Par agar adventure aagaya toh—"

Vanshu (cuts her off, smirks):

"Toh Akshu hi sabse pehle pohochegi — jaise humesha.. Air mai tere peeche!"

They laugh — rickshaw sputters to life — the city moves with them, carrying two dreamers to a brand new first day.

---

SEHGAL HOUSE — MONDAY MORNING — 7:15 AM

A sleepy dawn slips through the curtains — but inside the Sehgal house, it’s a full-on battleground already.

The alarm clock has been snoozed at least five times. Somewhere, Mahir’s mug of chai sits abandoned on the dining table. The TV hums with news nobody’s watching. And in the middle of this — Team Aashvi is creating a storm in uniform.

Team Aashvi’s Room —

Aashvi stands in front of the mirror — half her tie hanging around her neck like a defeated snake. She glares at it. Then at her reflection.

Aashvi (mumbling to herself):

"Har Monday ko yeh tie kyun ulajh jaata hai… Mumma bhi na, abhi gussa ho jayengi agar poocha toh… Vanuuuu! Kahan gayi tu?"

Next Room —

Vanya is on her knees under the bed — rummaging for her other shoe like she’s digging for buried treasure.

Vanya (frustrated, half yelling):

"Kikuuu! Mera doosra shoe kahan gaya? Kal tuhi toh pahan ke ghoom rahi thi mummy room mein! Nikla abhi!"

Kikvi’s Hideout —

Kikvi sits cross-legged near the cupboard — her shoes on, uniform half buttoned wrong, hair clip dangling by one stubborn strand. She’s calmly munching a biscuit she found on the study table — watching her sisters lose their minds.

She answers with her mouth full — crumbs sprinkling like confetti.

Kikvi (innocent blink):

"Maine nahi liya… mujhe kya pata… dekho na biscuit bhi mila toh main bas baithi hoon…"

Suddenly — Bela’s voice cuts through the madness from the hallway — that calm tone that carries the threat of an impending lecture.

Bela (calling out, firm):

"Team Aashvi! Neeche breakfast ready hai. Paanch minute mein sab niche nahi aaye toh uniform mein school nahi — thana le jaungi sabko, samjhe?"

Aashvi scrambles to yank her tie tight — ends up knotting her hair in it instead.

Vanya pops up triumphantly, shoe in hand, hair standing on end.

Kikvi shuffles closer — tries to help Aashvi untangle the tie, but ends up adding an extra knot.

Aashvi (groans, whisper to Vanya):

"Hum log jail hi jayenge kisi din… Monday ko toh pakka…"

DOWNSTAIRS — DINING TABLE —

Bela stands arms folded by the table — hot parathas on the plate, chutney ready, one brow raised like a judge about to announce final punishment.

Mahir watches from the living room — mug in hand — half-smirking at the drama.

The thundering of tiny feet — and Team Aashvi appears: ties wonky, hair half done, socks mismatched — but alive and ready-ish.

They stand in a sheepish line.

Bela (stern but softening seeing their sleepy faces):

"Baitho. Kha lo. Aur suno — tie seedha karo, button theek karo… school jaa rahe ho tumlog uniforms should be clean and tidy.. Samjhe?"

The three nod like baby chicks.

Vanya (under her breath to Aashvi):

"Mumma teacher se bhi zyada Inspector hai…"

Aashvi elbows her, Kikvi giggles, stuffing a bite of paratha in her mouth.

Mahir leans in, stage whispers to Bela.

Mahir (teasing):

"Team Aashvi ready hai… Mission Monday phir se shuru ho gaya…"

Bela rolls her eyes — but there’s that tiny smile too.

---

RAILWAY STATION — MORNING — PLATFORM EXIT

Amid the swirl of sleepy porters, rolling suitcases and vendors shouting for chai — another small piece of Team Unstoppable steps out into the city.

She adjusts her specs, yawns wide enough to scare away last night’s train fatigue — then pushes her glasses up her nose with that determined flick.

She — the missing third piece.

Loose jeans, baggy tee, dusty sneakers — hair tied back with an old banana clip that’s half falling off. A heavy backpack digs into her shoulder, a small suitcase rattles behind her. She’s got a world inside those bags — and a bigger one inside her head.

She pauses near the auto stand, drops her suitcase handle, stretches both arms up to the sky — joints cracking like tiny firecrackers.

She (under her breath, pep talk tone):

"Chal champ… naya sheher, nayi books, wohi hum. Koi tension nahi. Team Unstoppable ki third hero present hai!"

She slides her phone out — fingerprints smudged, screen protector cracked at the corner — opens WhatsApp.

TEAM UNSTOPPABLE — 3 MEMBERS

Unread: 1 Message.

Vanshu (sent 20 mins ago):

"All packed! Waiting for you… jaldi aa jaana!"

She smiles — tired but so sure — thumbs hover over the keypad, then she types back:

"Reaching soon. Ruko hero log! Third piece on the way 🚀💥"

Hit Send. Pocket the phone. Shoulder her bag again.

She flags down an auto — the driver looks half-awake, nods when she shoves her phone screen at him.

She (to the auto driver, grins wide):

"Bhaiya — Greenfield Public School jaana hai!"

She climbs in — suitcase perched on her knees, bag still hugging her back. She leans out a bit, eyes wide at the buzzing city rolling past — strange roads, new billboards, fresh chaos.

The auto rattles forward — one banana clip, one cracked phone, one determined grin — speeding straight into a fresh mess of classrooms, chalkboards and a hundred tomorrows.

---

GREENFIELD PUBLIC SCHOOL — FIRST DAY — MONDAY MORNING

SCHOOL GATE — 8:15 AM

The grand iron gates of Greenfield Public School swing open to a flood of chattering students — ties flapping, new backpacks bouncing, teachers at the gate ticking names on registers.

The school building rises ahead, fresh paint, trimmed lawns — and a quiet buzz of ‘new beginnings’.

TEAM UNSTOPPABLE ARRIVES —

A white auto stops at the curb with a tiny screech. Out tumbles Akshu — loose denim skirt, crisp white shirt tucked properly, socks pulled neat and high.

Beside her, Vanshu adjusts her backpack straps — hair pinned in a ponytail that’s already fighting to escape.

Both stand for a moment, staring at the giant building — excitement and nerves knotted together.

Vanshu (grins, nudges Akshu):

"Bas, hero mode on? Chal, 9th B ka danka bajate hain!"

Akshu (smirks, mock salute):

"Reporting for duty, Captain Vanshu! Naya sheher, naya school — koi chance nahi chhodenge!"

They bump fists — their secret ‘Team Unstoppable’ sign — and join the line of students.

INSIDE THE CORRIDOR —

They walk through the main corridor — bright noticeboards, walls echoing with chatter. Some new kids stare at them — fresh faces mid-term admission always grab attention.

Akshu elbows Vanshu, whispering.

Akshu (teasing grin):

"Lag raha hai sab soch rahe — kaun hai yeh do heroine!"

Vanshu rolls her eyes, swats her arm playfully.

They pause near the 9th B classroom — peeking in. Benches shine like new, a few students stare back, curious.

Akshu and Vanshu share a look — then grin wide, step inside together — heads high, like they own it already.

BACK AT THE MAIN GATE — TEAM AASHVI ARRIVES —

Barely ten minutes later, a familiar blue car rolls in — inside sits Bela, now in her crisp teacher saree, ID card pinned, hair perfectly tied in a bun.

Next to her on the backseat — three heads pressed to the window — Team Aashvi, peeking out like tiny prisoners about to be handed over to the warden.

The car stops. The door swings open.

Aashvi jumps out first — bag hanging lopsided.

Vanya climbs out carefully — lunch box in one hand.

Kikvi stumbles out last — clutching her teddy keychain peeking from her bag zip.

Bela (sharp, soft warning):

"Line mai chalo. Uniform straight karo. School ka naam hai — circus nahi. Understood?"

Three nods — in perfect military sync.

She straightens Aashvi’s collar, fixes Vanya’s hair clip, wipes a crumb off Kikvi’s chin.

Then she adjusts her saree pallu, slips her shades off — SHO mode swapped for Teacher mode — and glides towards the staff entrance.

Team Aashvi files in behind her — huddled close, whispering threats to each other.

Aashvi (hisses to Vanya):

"Ab koi bakwaas nahi karna andar. Nahi toh last bench se phir front bench pe kar dengi mumma."

Vanya (wide-eyed, mutters):

"Main toh seedha angel girl ban jaungi!"

Kikvi clutches her teddy keychain tight — nods like a solemn duck.

INSIDE THE SCHOOL — TWO WORLDS, YET TO COLLIDE

Akshu and Vanshu stand inside 9th B, already chatting with a classmate, flipping through a timetable stuck on the noticeboard.

Somewhere down the other corridor, Bela walks briskly towards the Primary Wing, Team Aashvi trailing behind her in wobbly single file — clutching lunchboxes like shields.

Neither team knows the storm that’s about to brew when Team Unstoppable and Team Aashvi finally collide.

---

MID-DAY BELL —

The final period before lunch wraps up — the old bell clangs and instantly the courtyard turns into a fairground.

Kids swarm benches under trees, tiffins pop open, water bottles roll on the dusty floor — everyone yelling, “Ek bite mujhe bhi!” or “Meri bottle kidhar gayi?”

SCHOOL GATE — JUST THEN

An auto rumbles to a halt outside the gate. The Third Girl of Team Unstoppable steps out — she stretches her stiff arms, pushes up her specs, wipes a strand of hair that’s slipped from her banana clip.

Loose jeans, baggy tee, sturdy shoes — suitcase in one hand, backpack slung tight. She hands her admission slip to the guard, who nods and points her in.

She drags her suitcase to the tiny security room — parks it safely — then steps out with just her backpack now. She tips her chin up, reads the Greenfield Public School signboard and breathes in deep.

Third Girl (murmurs to herself, small grin):

"Nayi jagah… nayi masti… bas woh dono mil jaayein ab…"

She fishes out her phone, thumb flying over their tiny group chat:

> “Reached the school gate! Where are you both?”

---

9TH B CLASSROOM — INSIDE

Akshu and Vanshu sit perched near the back window — ignoring the noise of classmates fighting over extra lunch.

Vanshu’s phone pings — they both hover over the screen. The Third Girl’s text glows like fireworks.

Akshu (bouncing on her toes, squeal-whisper):

"Aagayi! Hero full force ready! Yeh hui na baat!"

Vanshu (typing furiously):

"Side corridor, canteen ke paas. Hum yahin hain — jaldi aa!"

Sandwiches forgotten, water bottles dumped — they slam their lunchboxes shut and shoot out the door — giggling like they’ve just won the lottery.

---

SIDE CORRIDOR — BACK ENTRANCE

The Third Girl adjusts her banana clip, shrugs her backpack higher, eyes darting over the rows of classrooms.

She’s scanning when —

Akshu (half-yell, half-laugh from far end):

"Oyeee! Hero! Yahaan!"

She spins — spots Akshu waving both hands like a maniac. Vanshu beside her, double thumbs-up.

Her eyes glisten. For a heartbeat, her brave grin wobbles — the weight of missing them for months all over her face.

She strides fast — arms flung open.

The three collide in a tight hug — giggling, half-laughing, half-teary. Third Girl cups both faces, pressing soft pecks on their foreheads.

Third Girl (whispers, voice thick):

"I missed you two so much, hero-log!"

Akshu (mock salute, tries to break the mush):

"Bas bas rona nahi! Abhi toh unstoppable full force active! Safar kaisa tha madam third member?"

Third Girl (playful eye-roll, pulls Vanshu’s hair gently):

"Boring! Tum dono nahi the na! Batao — kaha baithna h?kaunse teacher ko first day se pareshan karna hai?"

Vanshu snorts, tugs her towards the bend.

"Pehle canteen — tere welcome ki planning wahin hogi. Ab chal!"

---

MEANWHILE — TEAM AASHVI

Not far — the side passage buzzes with another tiny storm.

Aashvi struts ahead like she owns the corridor — Vanya and Kikvi trailing nervously behind. Her eyes flick left, right — like a secret agent scanning for Mumma.

Aashvi (mischief whisper):

"Canteen se ek pastry aur milegi — bas chup rehna. Koi teacher mile toh ‘washroom’ bol dena. Mumma ko pata chala na toh gayi main!"

Kikvi (tiny squeak, clinging to her teddy zip):

"Aashi… kal hi scale pada Mumma se… Papa se le lenge na pastry… phir Mumma gussa ho gayi toh?"

Aashvi (full hero mode):

"Kuch nahi hoga! Darti rehti hai bas! Chal Vanu — tu bhi chup rehna!"

Vanya nods — palms sweaty, but follows her leader sister anyway.

One sharp bend — and it happens.

BANG!

Akshu and Aashvi slam into each other head-first — lunchboxes drop, Kikvi squeals, Vanshu yelps, Third Girl flails to grab her specs — all in three seconds.

Aashvi (rubbing her forehead, annoyed glare):

"Aankhein nahi hain kya? Dekh ke nahi chal sakte? Aur — ek minute — aap toh wahi ho na! Thana aur ice cream didi ho na? Yahan kya kar rahe ho?"

Akshu folds her arms — side-eye sharp as ever.

Akshu (full sass):

"Kis law book mein likha hai hum idhar nahi padh sakte? Tum hi toh rocket banke daud rahi thi! Dheere nahi chal sakti kya, chhoti madam?"

Vanshu tries not to giggle — hides behind Third Girl’s shoulder.

Vanya mumbles a tiny: “Sorry didi…” — Kikvi tugs Aashvi’s hand, whisper-hissing:

"Aashi… mat kar… Mumma dekh legi… phir scale lagega!"

Aashvi hushes her, glaring right back at Akshu.

Then — the Third Girl bends down, notices Kikvi’s teddy zip peeking from her pocket.

Third Girl (gentle laugh, soft voice):

"Arre waah… yeh teddy kitna cute hai! Tumhara naam kya hai chhoti?"

Kikvi half-hides behind Vanya — whispers her name like it’s top secret.

Akshu and Aashvi stand nose-to-nose — two mini generals refusing to blink first.

From somewhere inside, the next bell rings — warning they’re about to be late again.

Neither team moves. Neither team backs off. And somewhere in this new corridor war — a hundred stories are waiting to explode.

---

SIDE CORRIDOR — STILL MIDDAY

The accidental face-off hangs heavy in the narrow corridor — two fronts squared up like rival armies.

On one side: Akshu and Vanshu — Team Unstoppable.

On the other: Aashvi, Vanya, Kikvi — Team Aashvi.

Six eyes locked, noses inches apart, a breath away from round two of who-blinks-first.

Akshu glares, chin high — pure attitude.

"Kal toh ice cream lete waqt bada didi didi kar rahi thi aaj kya hua Haa.. Aaj Aa gayi apni badmashi pe.. Tumhe ice cream khilane ki jagah seedha tumhare mumma ke hawale karna chahiye tha..daant padti na tab samajh aata.."

Aashvi doesn’t flinch — she steps closer, glare sharper, voice edged like a tiny knife.

"Ha toh ek ice-cream hi khilayi thi aapne.. Aap nhi bhi chodte thana toh hum chale jaate.. Team Aashvi kabhi surrender nhi karti.. Wo toh aapne help kar di is liye hum chale gaye aapke Saath.."

Akshu throws a disbelieving look at Vanshu — then half to herself, half to the universe:

"Kaisi bacchi h yeh ek toh help kato.. Upar se thank you bolne ki jagah lad rahi h.. Dekho.."

— but she doesn’t get to finish.

A crisp voice slices through the corridor like a blade.

Bela (off-screen, firm tone):

"Yeh kya ho raha hai yahaan?"

The air freezes.

All six necks snap toward the sound — and there she is: Bela, striding around the bend, file in hand, glasses perched just so, crisp saree flowing like her authority. The same SHO who’d stormed the Mahila Thana is now this school’s quiet terror — teacher mode on, no-nonsense and ice-cold.

Akshu’s jaw drops. Vanshu’s spine goes ramrod straight — heartbeat hammering in her throat.

Akshu hisses to Vanshu, under her breath:

"Arre yeh toh wahi Thana wali Ma’am hai… Inspector Madam! Inki mummy"

Bela stops right in front of them — eyes sweeping over the two teams, landing on Akshu and Vanshu like searchlights.

Bela (coldly, eyebrows raised):

"Toh… tum dono? Akshu and vanshu right? Iss school mein padhte ho?"

Akshu shifts awkwardly, fists clenched around her skirt hem. Vanshu tries to nod but her words tangle up.

Vanshu (small voice):

"Ma’am… woh… haan Ma’am… new admission hai… aaj se pehla din…"

Akshu attempts a hopeful smile — but under Bela’s hawk-eyed stare, it fizzles instantly.

Behind them, the Third Girl stands frozen — suitcase still dumped at the security room, backpack half-sliding off her shoulder. She looks like she walked into someone else’s drama mid-scene.

Bela clocks her in a heartbeat — specs sliding half an inch as she zeroes in, voice tight as ever.

Bela (clipped tone, to the Third Girl):

"Tum? Naam kya hai tumhara? Aur uniform mein kyun nahi ho? Idhar corridor mein ghoom rahi ho casuals mein? Roll number batao."

Khushi startles, mouth half-open — fingers fumbling with her backpack zip as she tries to pull out her slip.

Khushi (nervous, stumbling):

"Ma’am… Khushi… Khushi Ag— Agrawal… woh… new admission hai… abhi aayi hoon station se seedha… abhi books aur uniform nahi liye ma’am… slip… slip yeh rahi—"

She thrusts the crumpled slip forward. Bela snatches it, scans it in one sharp flick — then hands it back like a verdict.

Bela (brisk, stern):

"Theek hai. Books aur uniform abhi jaake collect karo. Phir seedha class join karo. Din ka aadha hissa nikal gaya already — agla half waste nahi hoga."

Khushi gulps — she’d planned a nap, not this. Her mind mutters curses at the universe and this iron lady in a crisp saree.

Khushi (in mind):

"Yaar kaha maine socha tha mast jaake aaram karungi thoda.. Raat bhar toh so nhi paayi thik se abhi yeh ma'am kaha se tapak gayi pata nhi.. Upar se yeh bacche kaun h pata nhi.. Kya gul khila ke rakha h in dono.. Mai bhi fas gayi.. Try karke dekhti hoon ek baar "

She tries anyway, voice barely a squeak:

"Ma’am… woh mai soch rahi thi—"

One single eyebrow lifts. Instant shutdown. Khushi clamps her lips shut, shoots a helpless glare at Akshu — who just shrugs: ‘Good luck, buddy.’

Behind Bela’s shoulder, Team Aashvi are eating it up like prime-time drama. Aashvi leans in, whispering to Vanya:

"Dekha Mumma kitni gussa ho sakti hain school mein bhi!"

Kikvi clutches her teddy zip tighter — silently swearing never to roam out of uniform ever again.

Bela (final tone, crisp):

"No more time waste. Khushi — go collect your uniform, books, and other essentials and head straight to class. Tum dono —" (she points at Akshu and Vanshu)

"— escort her, get back on time. Aur haan — mujhe kal se sab proper dress code mein chahiye. Samjhe?"

Khushi, Akshu, Vanshu — all three, same breathless squeak:

"Yes Ma’am!"

Team Aashvi giggle behind their palms — only to freeze when Bela’s eyes flick to them.

Bela (one sharp glare at her trio):

"Aur tum log? Tumhari next period ki class kausi hai? Canteen ghoomne aaye the ya kuch aur badmashi chal rahi h? Recess abhi bhi chal raha hai tum teeno ka?"

Aashvi squeaks — voice a tiny peep:

"Bas jaa rahe Mumma— Ma’am! Ja rahe hai!"

Vanya and Kikvi nod so fast her teddy keychain almost drops.

Aashvi and Akshu share one last ‘baad mein dekh lenge’ death glare before turning away.

Bela exhales, pinches her temple — a microsecond of weary mother mode — then straightens up, file hugged tight, command mode back in place.

Bela (final note, no room for debate):

"Sab apni classes mein. Abhi."

Six guilty heads bob like marionettes — two rival teams scattering in opposite directions. Adventures postponed — for now.

Bela stands alone in the hallway, watching the corridor clear, then mutters under her breath with a tired smirk:

"Ek din yeh bachche mujhe retire karake hi dum lenge…"

---

MAIN BUILDING — CLASSROOM CORRIDOR — MOMENTS LATER

Khushi trudges down the corridor, squeezed between Akshu and Vanshu — her crumpled admission slip clenched like a survival kit, backpack slipping off one shoulder every few steps.

Akshu storms ahead by half a step, still grumbling under her breath from the face-off. Vanshu trails alongside, caught in the middle — trying to hush the sparks before they flare again.

Khushi (throwing a sideways glare at Akshu, half whisper, half groan):

"Kaun thi woh? Ek toh pata nahi kaisi bacchi thi... Seedha ladne lag gayi... Jaan na pehchaan, mai tera mehmaan... upar se yeh drama... Aur phir woh Ma’am... Pehle din hi class laga di... Kya naseeb h mera."

Akshu (throws her hands up, voice a sharp hiss):

"Arre madam, humne kya kiya.. Galti se usko bacchi samajh ke ice cream khila di thi.. Kya pata tha itni badmash niklegi.. Hum toh tere welcome ki taiyaari kar rahe the... Pata nahi kahaan se tapak gayi woh... Upar se galti maan’na toh dur ki baat, bhid gayi seedha! Humne toh bas—"

Vanshu (cuts in fast, forcing a calm smile):

"Bas bas... ab rehne de. Ma’am ne agar corridor mein pakad liya toh pehle din hi warning mil jayegi. Chup chaap chal."

Khushi lets out a long, dramatic sigh — great, new city, new school, and already stuck in this new mess.

They turn the next corner — Class IX-B. The half-closed door hums with low chatter and shuffling bags.

Khushi peers through the dusty glass pane — rows of old desks, a chalky board, a young teacher hunched over attendance sheets.

---

INSIDE CLASS IX-B

Mr. Sharma — hair perfectly parted, glasses balanced on the tip of his nose — looks up the moment the door creaks open. His eyes narrow as three new faces hover at the threshold — wide-eyed, half-lost.

Mr. Sharma (dry tone, tapping his register):

"Haan? Kaun ho tum log? Late kyun ho?"

Vanshu steps forward first — palms joined, voice polite but tiny.

"Sir... new admission... pehla din hai aaj... office se aa rahe h... Bela Ma’am ne kaha tha books aur uniform collect karne ko pehle—"

Mr. Sharma’s eyebrow arches — Bela Ma’am. That explains it. He extends a hand for Khushi’s slip — she scrambles it out, flattening the crumpled corners. He skims it with one neat glance, flicks it back.

Mr. Sharma:

"Theek hai. Roll number assign ho jayega — baith jao, teesri row mein khaali bench hai. Aur haan — uniform kal se. No excuses."

The three murmur a quick “Yes sir!” in sync and squeeze past curious stares. Desks squeak. A few heads tilt, whispers trail behind them.

"New kids..."

"Wahi Aashvi wali Ma’am ke saath...?"

"Ab toh maze hain..."

Akshu sits on the bench with a soft thud — Vanshu slides in next, Khushi awkwardly wedges in beside her. Three on a single bench — a tiny island for misfits and new beginnings.

---

AT THE BACK BENCH

Khushi leans in close, voice low but sharp:

"Tum dono sach mein ghoom ghoom ke pange karti ho kya? Pehle hi din aur yeh sab?"

Akshu rolls her eyes, shoving her bag under the desk:

"Hum nahi karte — woh teen karti hain! Tum dekhna — school bhar mein dimaag khayengi."

Vanshu hushes them with a quick side-eye, flips open her fresh notebook — the crisp page squeaks like a brand new promise. She scribbles in big letters: “Focus kar. Pehla din. No drama. Please.”

Khushi squints at her neat writing — then lets out a reluctant chuckle.

"Fine. Par kal se woh choti team se dur rehna. Warna phir fasenge!"

They stifle giggles, shoulders pressed together as Mr. Sharma clears his throat — chalk squeaking on the board, fan clanking overhead. Papers rustle. Voices hush.

Under the desk, three hands bump fists once — a quiet pact in a loud world:

"We’ve got this."

Outside, the corridor hums — somewhere, Team Aashvi brews their next “mission.”

Inside, Team Unstoppable tries to blend in — for now.

SECOND LAST PERIOD — 9B CLASSROOM

The clock crawls painfully toward 1:30 PM.

Outside the window — harsh sunlight, a lazy breeze, distant echoes of kids kicking a football on the dusty field.

Inside — pin drop silence.

Khushi sits wedged between Akshu and Vanshu at the very back — books open, pen in hand, but her eyelids droop like a sleepy toddler.

One second she’s scribbling half-words, the next her head dips forward — specs sliding halfway down her nose.

Akshu stealthily pokes her under the desk — Khushi jerks up like she’s been electrocuted, eyes wide for two seconds — then they droop again.

Vanshu leans in, whispering with a half-giggle:

"Oyee Hero — last do period bache h bas sambhal le phir so jaana hotel mai jaake.. Abhi maths h aise bhi pata nhi kaunsi teacher aane wali h.. Uth jaa yaar—"

She freezes mid-whisper.

CLICK.

The classroom door swings open — a quiet hush falls like a sheet.

Sturdy block heels click in — a perfectly draped saree, lesson plan folder tucked sharp under one arm.

That no-nonsense walk.

That piercing hawk-eye scan.

BELA.

Standing tall at the door — inspecting the room like an army general.

Every single back straightens at once — even the ceiling fan seems to spin quieter.

Akshu and Vanshu exchange a look that screams, “Bas ab yeh hi bacha tha.”

Akshu frantically scribbles in Vanshu’s rough notebook.

---

Akshu (scribbling fast):

"Yaar yeh ma'am maths padhayengi.. Mai Bhaag jaungi yaha se kasam se.. Jitna acche se inhone hum teeno ko pehchaan liya h na.. Pakka fasenge.. ☹️"

---

Vanshu scribbles back, rolling her eyes:

"Ab kya kar sakte h koi option bhi nhi h.. Jhelna hi padega.. Bach ke rehna ab. All the best."

---

In the middle, Khushi — mid-yawn — freezes, mouth still open like a startled goldfish.

She squeaks, tries to shrink behind Akshu’s shoulder — too late.

Bela’s eyes narrow — straight at her.

Bela (razor calm):

"You... Tumhara naam Khushi hai na?"

Khushi’s pen slips — clink.

Akshu and Vanshu straighten like boards.

Khushi (tiny voice, fumbling):

"Y-yes Ma’am…"

Bela arches a single eyebrow — the same dreaded SHO look, now wrapped in a teacher’s calm mask.

Bela:

"Abhi class shuru bhi nhi hui aur tumhe neend aa rahi h? Maths period mai? Pehla din hi itna bore ho gaya?"

Khushi opens her mouth — squeaks out half a yawn she tries desperately to swallow.

Akshu elbows her side under the desk — Vanshu presses her lips shut to stop a giggle.

Khushi (rushed, stammering):

"Nahi Ma’am! Woh bas… train ka safar… raat bhar neend nahi… aur thoda—"

Bela (sharper, but not cruel):

"Aur abhi maths ke sums poore honge... Tum board pe aao."

Khushi’s soul leaves her body — her mind just repeats ‘No no no no no!’

Khushi (in her head):

"Bhagwaan aapko kya personal level pe dushmani h mere se.. Matlab kaha se yeh ma'am haath muh dhoke mere peeche pad gayi h.. Pehle hi din seedha board pe bula rahi h.. Wo bhi maths.. All the best Khushi.. Apni izzat ka kachra hote hue dekhne ke liye."

Khushi (horrified, out loud):

"Ma’am? Board pe? Abhi? Main—"

She glances at Akshu for help — Akshu just shrugs like ‘Main kya karoon?’

Bela (stern but with a flicker of a hidden smile):

"Board pe aao, Khushi. Ek simple algebra solve karo. Dekhte h kitna ‘thak gayi ho’. Pehla din hai, toh warning — agli baar aisa dekha toh parents ko call karungi. Samjhi?"

Khushi nods like a terrified bobblehead — drags herself to the board, clutching her chalk like a final meal.

Akshu and Vanshu try not to explode with laughter — Vanshu hisses under her breath:

"Team Unstoppable ki yeh hero toh board pe hi shaheed ho gayi!"

Khushi shoots them a helpless ‘Tum dono ke wajah se hi ho raha hai!’ glare — then faces the giant blackboard, heart thumping.

She starts writing the formula — hands trembling, numbers crooked, letters half eaten by her panic.

Behind her, Bela stands arms folded — strict eyes locked, but that hidden softness flickers under the sharpness.

Bela (calm, firm):

"Slowly. Step by step. Yahan se shuru karo. Mistake hui toh phir se karogi. Neend sab udh jaayegi."

Khushi gulps — moves the chalk again.

Back at the last bench — Akshu and Vanshu pretend to scribble furiously, shoulders shaking in silent giggles.

But Bela’s radar misses nothing — one icy glare straight at Akshu and Vanshu.

Akshu zips her mouth shut — eyes wide, halo suddenly shining bright over her head.

Inside her brain though: ‘Bas ab aur kitna bacha hai? Bhagwaan! Save me!’

And there stands Khushi — doomed, sleep-starved — scribbling crooked sums on the board while the whole class tries not to breathe too loud.

BLACKBOARD — SAME MOMENT

Khushi’s chalk squeaks painfully as she tries to balance a jumble of numbers and letters — half correct, half praying it looks right.

Her knees practically knock together.

Bela watches — arms folded, a tiny sigh slipping past her strict front. She knows Khushi’s brain is half-asleep — but this is discipline.

She steps forward, taps the board lightly with her pen.

Bela (calm, measured):

"Yeh step galat hai. Dekho — yahan se minus karo, plus nahi. Concentrate, Khushi. Slow down."

Khushi nods frantically, erasing the line. The chalk dust falls like snow.

Behind her — a faint snort of muffled laughter.

Bela’s eyes flick to the last bench.

Akshu and Vanshu.

Heads down, pretending to copy, but Vanshu’s shoulders shake suspiciously. Akshu has her palm pressed to her mouth, her pen frozen mid-air. One look and it’s obvious they’re dying to burst out laughing.

Bela’s stare sharpens — lasers right through Akshu’s soul.

She clears her throat — one tap tap of her pen on the desk.

The entire class goes dead silent.

Bela (voice like an ice dagger):

"Akshika. Stand up."

Akshu’s soul plummets through the floor. Vanshu stiffens, eyes wide, pen frozen mid-word.

Slowly — Akshu rises, fixing her skirt nervously, face stuck in an awkward half-smile.

Bela:

"Mazak chal raha hai? Bohot interesting joke likha h board pe?"

Akshu tries to speak — stutters — nothing comes out but a squeak. Vanshu sneakily nudges her under the desk, ‘Bas bol de sorry idiot!’

Akshu (rushes out):

"No ma’am! Nahi ma’am! Kuch nahi ma’am — woh bas… Vanshu se— main— pen maang rahi thi— woh—"

She’s digging her own grave.

Bela lifts an eyebrow. Arms cross tighter.

Bela (low but firm):

"Pen maang rahi thi ya maze le rahi thi? Board pe khade ho ke solve karna easy nahi hota. Tum dono — jo last bench pe comedy club chala rahe ho — pehla din hai, isliye warning de rahi hoon. Next time? Direct Principal se complaint aur parents ke phone par call. Samjhi Akshika?"

Akshu nods — fast — cheeks red, ears redder. Vanshu hides her grin behind her notebook, but one glare from Bela freezes that too.

Khushi finally squeaks out the last line of her sum — half right, half miracle — she turns around, eyes pleading for mercy.

Bela looks from Khushi to Akshu — then lets out a tiny, half-smirk sigh no one catches.

Bela (to Khushi, softer but still sharp):

"Thik hai, ho gaya. Baith jao — aur next period tak bilkul fresh. Warna neend bhagana aata h mujhe clear? Aur tum, Akshika — khade raho."

Akshu’s eyes widen. Standing punishment. She shoots Vanshu a tiny ‘Main toh gayi’ look.

Bela turns back to the board — calmly writes the next question — but her voice is steel wrapped in silk:

"Class — note this. Agla sum sab board pe solve karenge — bina comedy ke. Samjhe?"

Thirty terrified nods.

Khushi practically collapses onto her bench — Akshu stands, shoulders stiff, Vanshu tries to look straight ahead but her mouth twitches.

Somewhere behind her strict eyes, Bela’s lips fight a hidden smile. These three storms — she already knows — her next headache for the whole year.

The classroom is so quiet you could hear a pin drop — or Akshu’s knees trembling from standing for fifteen minutes straight.

Khushi — half relieved to be back on the bench — sneaks guilty glances at Akshu every few seconds. Vanshu scribbles notes like a model student, lips pressed tight so her giggles don’t leak out.

Bela moves across the board — her chalk dancing, sums clicking together like soldiers in line.

Bela (writing, calm but commanding):
"Aur is step ke baad — factorise karo. Same method ghar par bhi practice karna. Clear?"

A meek chorus of “Yes Ma’am.”

She turns — eyes straight to Akshu.

Bela (deadpan):
"Akshika — sit down. Next time if I find you doing any comedy you will stand out."

Akshu exhales — half alive again — and drops into her seat with a soft thud. Vanshu gives her a tiny thumbs up under the desk. Khushi just passes her a ‘Mujhe bhi daant padi thi, relax’ look.

The clock creeps towards the final five minutes. Bela taps her chalk once — the class snaps to attention.

Bela (teacher voice but with that sweet edge that screams ‘better listen!’):
"Homework — page 32 to 35 — factorisation sums. Neat, clean, no cuttings — notebook check hoga kal. Samjhe sab?"

A scattered echo: “Yes Ma’am!”

Bela’s eyes sweep the rows — then laser lock on Khushi and Akshu. Her tone softens — but her smile could slice butter.

Bela (syrup-sweet, but deadly):
"And Miss Khushi… and Miss Akshika — aap dono ke liye special. Aap log ko double sums karne hain. Page 32 se 38 tak. Neend aur comedy dono nikal jayegi. Theek hai?"

Khushi’s face drops — mouth open like a goldfish.
Akshu’s jaw nearly hits her desk. Vanshu chokes on her own breath, scribbling “RIP” in her rough notebook under the desk.

Khushi (tiny squeak):
"M-Ma’am woh— main toh bas— "

Bela (one eyebrow, sweet fake smile):
"Koi problem? Tumhe sula doon yahin? Extra homework ya phir next class mein board pe dubara aana pasand karogi?"

Khushi clamps her mouth shut — zip! — shakes her head fast.

Akshu (mumbling to herself, whispering to Vanshu):
"Bas… yehi bacha tha life mein. Pehla din pe double maths homework. Mummy se pehle Bela Ma’am hi maar dalengi."

Vanshu tries not to snort — her shoulders shake as she covers her giggle behind a fake cough.

FINAL BELL — CLANG!

The sweet sound of freedom. Bags zip, benches scrape, but no one dares to run until Bela says so.

She shuts her register with a soft thud.

Bela (closes the class, firm but with that hidden fondness only she knows):
"Good. Sab jao. Notes complete karna. Khushi, Akshika — double check karungi kal. Galti mili toh principal office mein bhej dungi. Bye."

Khushi and Akshu squeak a “Bye Ma’am” together — like twin guilty kittens.

Bela strides out — block heels clicking — a faint smirk on her lips. Behind her, the Team Unstoppable trio sink into their benches.

Khushi buries her face in her bag. Akshu dramatically flops her head on the desk. Vanshu, the lone survivor, pokes them both with her pencil, whispering:

Vanshu (grinning):
"Team Unstoppable ke hero log — double homework. Pehla din aur kitna unstoppable hoga bhagwan hi jaane!"

And the classroom hums back to life — while somewhere down the corridor, Bela hides her laugh behind her lesson plan, already bracing for tomorrow’s chaos.

CLASS 1B— TEAM AASHVI’S CLASSROOM — SAME TIME

The sun outside is blazing but inside the classroom it’s cool — only the nerves are overheating.

Bela has just wrapped up her final Maths period here too — her heels click out of the room but her voice still rings in the air like an invisible whip.

Team Aashvi sits like three tiny statues in the third row — heads low, eyes round, backs straighter than rulers.

Aashvi is the Mastermind — but today, her plan to “get back” at Akshu for the pastry fiasco has blown up before it could even take off.

FLASHBACK — JUST 30 MINUTES AGO

Bela had caught Aashvi, Kikvi and Vanya whispering, scribbling secret codes on the last page of their rough notebook. Aashvi had tried to hide it — Kikvi had almost swallowed her eraser in panic — Vanya had squeaked an innocent “Washroom jaaun Ma’am?” as cover.

But Bela had seen it all.

One icy look. One tight “Kya ho raha hai yeh? Kya chiz ki planning chal rahi h?”
Aashvi had gulped — tried a puppy face — failed spectacularly.

BACK TO PRESENT

Now, Aashvi sits with her elbows jammed on the desk — chin buried in her palms — glaring at her closed textbook like it’s her mortal enemy.

Kikvi pokes her gently with the end of her pencil.

Kikvi (whispers, trembling):
"Aashi… Mumma ne dekh liya na… ab kya kare? Mummy ab Papa ko batayengi… phir kal scale padega na?"

Aashvi shoots her the weakest brave face ever.

Aashvi (mutters, tiny):
"Arre kuch nahi hota… Team Aashvi haar nahi maanti… next time plan perfect banega… is bar koi nahi pakdega… ice cream ka badla lena hi padega!"

Vanya, still scarred by the scale memory, clutches her notebook to her chest like a shield.

Vanya (urgent whisper):
"Aashi pleaseee… mujhe daant nahi khani… main toh bas drawing banaungi kal se… Mumma ne maths ke baad bhi bola na homework neat rakhna… fir se pakad liya toh gayi main!"

Aashvi crosses her arms — nose scrunched — glaring at the ceiling like it stole her pastry.

Aashvi (mumbles):
"Haan haan… sab darpok ho gaye ho tum log… koi baat nahi… Team Aashvi ki leader ek din badla legi… Mumma nhi pakad payengi next time… Akshu didi ne pastry miss karwayi thi na… ab dekh mai kya karti hoon… Mission Chhupa Rustom!"

Kikvi and Vanya exchange a silent “Bas Bhagwaan bachaye” look.

Meanwhile the bell rings — a sweet promise of home time — but neither Kikvi nor Vanya dare to celebrate too much. They know Aashvi’s brain never sleeps… and neither does Bela’s scale.

Outside the corridor, they spot Bela talking to another teacher — even from here Aashvi can feel her mumma’s radar scanning straight through the wall.

Kikvi hugs her teddy zip to her chest — whispering under her breath like a prayer.

Kikvi (to her teddy):
"Bhagwaan ji… next mission safe rakhna please… aur scale door rakhna Mumma ka… bas itna hi…"

Vanya giggles — Aashvi rolls her eyes — but somewhere deep inside, even she knows: next time, they’ll have to be ten times sneakier.

Team Aashvi — dangerous in theory, adorable in practice — storms out of class, plotting pastry revenge part two.

To be continued...