So let's begin,

HOTEL ROOM – EARLY MORNING – 6:57 AM

TRINGG TRINGG!

The alarm blares from Akshu’s phone — ignored.

Khushi’s phone vibrates, muffled under a pile of clothes.

Vanshu groans, hugging a pillow like it’s her last hope.

Suddenly—

Khushi (shooting up, panicked):

“GUYSSSS!!!”

Akshu (half-asleep, eyes shut):

“Kya hua? Kyu chilla rahi h… Aag lagi kya?”

Khushi (wide-eyed):

“Aag humare jeevan mein lag gayi h! HOMEWORK INCOMPLETE !! SCHOOL ALREADY LATE!! BELA MA’AM!!”

That’s enough.

The room explodes into chaos — a montage of madness.

7:10 AM

Toothbrushes in mouths.

Khushi fights a knot in her hair while hopping around, searching for a missing sock.

Vanshu tries to iron her shirt — only one sleeve flat, the rest dangling.

Akshu sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by notebooks — all wrong.

Akshu (panicking):

“Mera Maths ka notebook? Yeh toh English wala hai jisme maine game ke cheat codes likh diye the!”

Khushi (desperate):

“Meri tie?! Aur comb kahan hai?!”

Vanshu (toothpaste foam flying):

“Tie toh kal tune thele pe utaar ke chhodi thi — chutney ke saath ud gayi hogi!”

Somehow, uniforms go on. Buttons mismatched, socks uneven, hair tied with random clips.

Breakfast? Skipped.

Homework? Dead.

Hope? Minimal.

SCHOOL GATE – 8:30 AM

They stumble in, breathless.

The bell’s already rung. Corridors empty, still, ominous.

Khushi (gasping):

“Ab toh ma’am se direct swarg ka rasta milega.”

Vanshu (panting):

“Ya nark. Depends on her mood.”

Akshu (muttering):

“Bas dua karo accha mood ho…”

Khushi (grim):

“Tujhe lagta h? Today — we’re finished.”

CLASSROOM – 9B – SAME TIME

The door creaks open.

Inside, Bela Sehgal commands the board. Chalk mid-stroke.

She turns — gaze freezing them mid-step.

Bela (dryly):

“Wow. Entry worthy of a school reality show.”

The trio stand there — panting, messy, guilty — like criminals at trial.

Bela folds her arms.

Bela:

“Uniform wrinkled. Ties missing. Notebooks…?”

Silence.

Khushi (small voice):

“…hotel mein reh gaye.”

Akshu:

“Homework bhi… raat ko power cut tha.”

Vanshu (blurting, half-truth):

“Flat hunting mein late ho gaye.”

The class snickers. Bela’s eyes sharpen.

Bela:

“Flat hunting? Property dealers banna hai ya school attend karna hai?”

Giggles erupt, instantly silenced by her glare.

Bela (calm, cutting):

“Late. Unprepared. Still dreaming big. Wah.”

She steps closer, voice low but firm.

Bela:

“Independent rehna hai? Pehle basic zimmedaari sambhalna seekho.”

Dead silence. Her words land heavy.

Bela (after a pause):

“Sit. No excuses, no books. Bas suno. Class ke baad staffroom.”

The girls nod, heads bowed, and slink to their seats.

Khushi (whispering as they sit):

“Band baj gayi. Congratulations.”

Akshu (groaning):

“Ab Lanka lagegi.”

Vanshu (face buried in desk):

“Flat toh gaya. Ab lagta hai school bhi jayega.”

Bela resumes teaching — calm, poised. But her eyes flicker back to them now and then.

She’s watching.

They know it.

And redemption won’t come easy.

STAFF ROOM – POST-MATHS CLASS – LUNCH BREAK

The large staffroom is mostly quiet — a fan humming above, papers rustling near the open window. Teachers are still in their classes.

But at the center desk, Bela Sehgal sits like a storm waiting to explode.

Her eyes glued to the trio’s incomplete homework notebooks.

Her legendary black scale resting ominously beside her coffee mug.

Tapping it lightly against the edge of the desk... tap tap... tap...

A knock.

The door opens just a little — revealing three terrified faces.

Khushi (softly):

"Ma’am… may we come in?"

Bela (without looking up):

"Enter."

Gulp.

The trio shuffle in, steps slow, back straight, eyes glued to the floor like it’ll protect them.

Akshu (whispering):

"Tune bola tha na ki staffroom ka darwaza crossing karte hi saansein ruk jaati hai? Proved."

Khushi (hushed):

"Wo scale dekh rahi ho? Aaj toh lagta hai jeevan ka pehla scale padne wala experience hoga."

Vanshu:

"Ma’am jab shaant hoti hain tabhi zyada scary hoti hain."

They stand like convicts — hands behind their backs, waiting for their verdict.

Bela (finally looking up):

"Let me guess... hotel mein alarm nahi baja?"

No reply.

Bela:

"Homework Done? No. Notebooks Packed? No. Presentation? Uniform? Tie? Socks? Shirt? Hair?"

Khushi (timid):

"...ho gaya tha... thoda... tangled."

Bela (sharply):

"Tangled?! Beta, tumhari zindagi tangled hai, baal toh normal hai."

Tap tap tap — the scale rhythmically beats against her palm now.

Bela:

"Aaj ka record dekhun? You entered late, disturbed the class, forgot notebooks, gave no homework and now… are standing here like lost puppies."

They stay silent. Eyes down. Only the sound of the ticking wall clock and Bela’s tapping scale fills the air.

Bela (coldly):

"You think this is how independence works? Itna hi shauk hai alag rehne ka toh pehle apni current life handle karna seekho."

Vanshu (softly):

"Sorry ma’am..."

Bela:

"Sorry? Sorry se Maths ka chapter solve hoga? Flat mil jaayega? Life set ho jaayegi?"

Tap.

Bela (leaning forward):

"Flat chahiye? Freedom chahiye? Toh uske liye discipline bhi chahiye."

She picks up the scale. All three instinctively flinch.

Khushi (whisper-whisper):

"Ab aaya jeevan ka pehla scale."

Akshu (squeezing Vanshu's arm):

"Aankhein bandh karlo... kam dard hoga."

Vanshu(whispers back):

"Koi faayda nhi h.. Lagna toh utna hi h chahe aankhein khol ke rakho ya band karke.. All the best!"

But instead, Bela points the scale toward their notebooks.

Bela (curt):

"From tomorrow — properly completed homework. Neat. No cut-offs. And if even one mistake I saw — this scale will make direct contact. Clear?"

They nod fast enough to power a ceiling fan.

Bela:

"Now leave before I actually use it."

The trio bolts out like they're escaping a crime scene.

---

SCHOOL CORRIDOR – OUTSIDE STAFFROOM – MOMENTS LATER

Khushi (hands on knees, panting):

"Ma’am ka scale dekh ke mujhe laga meri atma body chhod degi."

Akshu:

"Yeh toh full crime patrol interrogation tha."

Vanshu:

"I swear, kal se notebook ready, tie ready, even soul ready."

They walk away slowly, slightly scarred — but very, very motivated.

The door clicks shut behind Team Unstoppable. Silence returns to the room — broken only by the slow hum of the fan and the faint murmur of students outside.

Bela leans back in her chair, letting out a quiet sigh. Her grip on the scale softens. The stern mask she wore moments ago… begins to slip.

She looks down at their incomplete notebooks — pages scribbled with rushed equations, half-done diagrams, and tiny doodles in the margins. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

Bela (murmuring to herself):

"Teen akalmand… par discipline zero."

She sets the scale aside and starts checking their notebooks.

Her gaze lingers for a moment on their names — Khushi. Akshika. Vanshika.

She shakes her head.

Bela (thoughtfully):

"Naya sheher... nayi jagah... hotel mein rehna... classes attend karna… homework manage karna... Aur upar se flat dhundhna bhi?"

She pauses, the smile fading just a little. Her eyes turn distant — almost nostalgic.

Bela (whispering):

"Hmm.. Mushkil toh h.. Par discipline ke bina aur sahi raaste ke bina sab galat ho sakta h.. I have to keep an eye on them."

She places the notebooks in a neat stack, her fingers lingering on the top one for a beat longer.

Bela (firmly, to herself):

"They want freedom… they better learn balance. And if they can’t learn it with soft words..."

Her hand reaches out to pat the scale — like an old ally.

Bela (smirking):

"...toh scale toh hai hi."

But as she looks out the window, something warm flickers in her eyes.

Bela (softly):

"Tough love dena padta hai… kabhi kabhi, sahi direction dikhane ke liye."

The bell rings outside, signaling the end of break.

Bela picks up her attendance register, fixes her dupatta, and rises from her chair — the strict teacher once again.

But this time… with a tiny, invisible thread of care woven into every step.

SCHOOL PLAYGROUND – BREAK TIME – JUNIOR SIDE

Team Aashvi — Aashi, Vanya, and Kiku — sat on the ground under their usual shady tree, happily unboxing their tiffins. Aashi nibbled on her aloo paratha while Kiku poked at her mini idlis. Vanya was already halfway through her sandwich.

Kiku (grinning):

"Main aaj khud girke bhi lunch bacha ke laayi hoon."

Vanya (teasing):

"Kyuki tumhara lunch tumse zyada strong hai."

The trio giggled — a rare moment of peace.

But that peace shattered like glass.

Four senior girls from Class 9 — led by Nikita, with her slick ponytail and gangly limbs — walked up to them, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

Nikita (smirking):

"Aww, cuties picnic mana rahe ho?"

Aashi (standing up, firm):

"Yeh humara break time hai. Aapko problem hai?"

Girl 2 (laughs):

"Suna Nikita? Choti Sherni bol rahi hai."

Before Aashi could respond, Nikita suddenly shoved her, making her stumble.

Kiku and Vanya tried to help her, but they were no match for the older girls. One pushed Kiku down hard — her tiny elbow scraped against the ground. Blood trickled out.

Vanya screamed as another girl yanked her by her ponytail and flung her — she hit the ground and a sharp scratch marked her forehead.

Kiku (crying):

"Ma’am… ma'am ko koi bulao..."

Vanya (shouting):

"Aashi! Bhaag jao!"

But Aashi didn’t move. She stood tall, fists clenched, lip trembling from the pain — yet unwilling to bow down.

Aashi (gritting her teeth):

"Himmat hai toh samne se aao… peeche se chhup ke nahi."

Just as Nikita raised her hand again, a firm grip caught Aashi’s wrist before she could fall again.

Aashvi looked up. It was… Akshu.

Akshu (dead serious):

"Hatt jao Aashi. Ab yeh meri problem hai."

Behind her, Vanshu rushed in, immediately helping Vanya and Kikvi to the side, inspecting their wounds gently.

Vanshu (to Kiku):

"Kuch nahi hua… tum strong ho, okay?"

Akshu (to the girls, voice cold as steel):

"Sharam nahi aati chhote bacchon pe haath uthate hue?"

Girl 3 (taunting):

"Toh tum kya karogi? Ek aur bacchi hi toh ho."

Akshu (stepping closer, dangerously calm):

"Aur tumhare jaisi bade hokar bhi aisi badtameezi se toh behtar hi hoon."

That’s when Nikita grabbed Akshu’s collar, pushing her slightly.

Vanshu:

"Nikita uska collar chodo.."

Nikita:

"Zyada bol rahi ho tum…"

The other three girls circled around Akshu now. Tension shot up.

Vanshu ran up, placing herself protectively beside her.

Aashi, bleeding but defiant, stood behind Akshu.

One of the senior girls raised her fist to punch Akshu.

STOP!

A sharp voice sliced through the air like a whip.

KHUSHI.

Standing tall, furious, not a single trace of sleepiness or mischief in her now.

Phone in hand. Eyes burning. Jaw locked.

Khushi (thunderous):

"Haath neeche karo Nikita."

The girls froze. Nikita looked stunned.

Khushi (walking forward, voice low but lethal):

"Ek second mai principal sir aur Bela ma’am ko yeh video dikha dungi. Har ek second record hua hai — tum log ka chehra, maarna, girana… sab kuch."

She pointed the phone like a loaded weapon.

Khushi (raising her chin):

"Humein detention mil sakta hai…

Tumhein suspension milega. Direct. Without appeal."

Girl 4 (whispering to Nikita):

"Mat kar… video proof hai. Suspend ho jaayenge."

Nikita clenched her jaw, clearly burning with rage but forced to back off. She yanked her hand off Akshu’s collar and stormed back, muttering threats.

Nikita (before leaving):

"Yeh nahi bhoolungi."

Akshu (coldly):

"Aur hum bhi nahi… Agli baar agar kisi junior ko chhua ya pareshaan kiya na, toh sirf video nahi milega… tumhe jawaab bhi milega."

Vanshu (firmly):

"Team Unstoppable se panga mat lena."

Aashi (bloody, bruised, and proud):

"Agle break mai yahi baithungi… dekhte hain kaun rokta hai."

Khushi (finally smiling):

"Yeh hui na baat."

They stood in a protective triangle — bruised, exhausted, but undefeated.

And for the first time… Team Aashvi and Team Unstoppable weren’t enemies. They were a team

Nikita and her gang storm off, muttering curses. The corridor falls silent.

Khushi immediately shoves her phone into her bag and rushes forward.

She grabs Akshu and Vanshu by the shoulders, eyes scanning them top to bottom like a frantic mother hen.

Khushi (breathless, frantic):

“Tum dono thik ho? Kahin lagi toh nahi? Akshu, usne tera collar pakda tha… Vanshu, tu—?”

Before she can finish—

Vanshu (cutting in, urgent):

“Hum thik hai… par Team Aashvi ko bohot chot lagi hai. Pehle unhe dekhte hain.”

Khushi turns instantly.

Vanya sobs silently, clutching her elbow.

Kiku’s knees bleed from scrapes.

Aashi, face bruised, still stands stiff, fists clenched, eyes burning.

Khushi (snapping into action):

“Vanshu—bag se cotton, Dettol, ointment, bandage! Emergency pouch hai na tere paas?”

Akshu (teasing lightly, despite the tension):

“Of course hoga… humari future doctor hai na yeh. Chal, Vani!”

Akshu and Vanshu dash, returning seconds later with supplies.

The Team Unstoppable splits—each kneeling beside an injured junior.

---

Vanshu with Vanya

She kneels, gentle but firm, offering a small chocolate as she cleans the scrape.

Vanshu (soft, coaxing):

“Thoda jalega, Vanu… bas ek second. Tum toh strong ho na?”

Vanya nods, biting the chocolate, tears slowing.

---

Khushi with Kiku

Khushi opens her teddy pouch, pressing the soft toy into Kiku’s hands.

Khushi (soothing):

“Teddy ko zor se pakad ke rakho. Ab hum dawai lagayenge… aur rona strictly mana hai.”

Kiku sniffles but nods bravely. Khushi cleans the cut, whispering a silly story about Teddy defeating a mosquito gang.

---

Akshu with Aashi

Akshu moves closer, cotton in hand.

Akshu (calm):

“Chalo, dawai lagate hain—”

Aashi (snapping back, pulling away):

“Mujhe nahi lagani! Main khud kar lungi. Aap rehne do.”

Akshu (exasperated):

“Aashi, please. Ziddi banne ka waqt nahi hai.”

Aashi (defiant, arms crossed):

“Maine kaha na NO! Hum Team Aashvi enemy team se help nahi lete.”

Akshu clenches her jaw. Before she can argue, Khushi—still blowing gently on Kiku’s wound—interjects, voice hardening.

Khushi (firm, low):

“Akshu, dawai lagao usko. Ziddi hai, par infection ho jayega.”

Vanshu (agreeing, without looking up):

“Haan, Khushi sahi keh rahi hai. Chhodna option nahi hai.”

Khushi (shooting Vanshu a side-eye, smirking):

“Dr. Madam full swing mein.”

Akshu and Vanshu exchange a tired chuckle.

Akshu (sighs, muttering):

“Chalo, patience test shuru.”

She leans in again.

Akshu (gentle, trying):

“Dekho Aashi… main dheere se lagaoongi. Trust karo.”

Aashi (explodes, shouting):

“NAHI! Bola na mujhe help nahi chahiye! Jaao yaha se!”

And that’s it—Khushi snaps.

Khushi (sharp, thunder in her tone):

“Aashvi. ENOUGH.”

The break area freezes.

Khushi (scolding, rapid-fire):

“Yeh ladai aur attitude abhi ke liye band karo. Khoon nikal raha hai tumhari chot se aur tum smartness dikha rahi ho? Ek lafz aur bola na, toh seedha Bela Ma’am ke paas le jaungi aur tumhari kahani khud suna dungi. Samjhi? Chhoti ho, behave like one. Finger. On. Your. Lips. NOW.”

Aashi stiffens. She gulps—and instantly obeys, finger to lips.

The fire in her eyes dims into nervous silence.

Khushi (huffing, calmer now):

“Good. Akshu, karo first aid.”

Akshu (muttering under breath while working):

“Bhalai ka toh zamana hi nahi. Help karo aur badle mein attitude lo… piddi bhar ki bacchi.”

She carefully tends to Aashi’s wound.

For once, Aashi doesn’t protest—just watches quietly.

---

Vanshu (teasing whisper to Akshu):

“Dekha? Khushi ka storm mode on.”

Akshu (grinning, focused on cotton):

“Haan… patience ka stock khatam ho gaya madam ka.”

---

Kiku suddenly yelps at the sting of Dettol.

Khushi (immediately distracting, holding her hand):

“Shhh… Teddy ko dekho. Uska naam kya rakhe? Officer Teddy? Brave Teddy?”

Kiku (sniffling, distracted):

“Officer Teddy…”

Khushi (smiling softly):

“Perfect. Officer Teddy bhi dawai lagata hai bina roye. Tum toh usse bhi zyada brave ho.”

---

Aashi stays uncharacteristically silent.

She keeps sneaking glances—their quick teamwork, their care, their silly ways of easing pain.

For the first time, the fight drains from her face.

Her stubbornness falters.

Maybe… just maybe… her perspective about this team was changing now.

STAFF ROOM – SAME TIME

Bela is bent over her register, scribbling notes. Her untouched tea sits beside her, long gone cold.

The door bursts open.

Anshu (panting):

“Bela Ma’am! Jaldi chaliye… playground ke paas… kuch seniors ne juniors pe haath uthaya hai!”

Bela (instantly alert, eyes snapping up):

“Kya?! Kaun involve hai?!”

Anshu (quickly):

“Team Aashvi ke teenon members… aur Akshika, Vanshika… aur Khushi ne poora record kiya hai, saboot ke liye.”

The pen slips from Bela’s hand, clattering against the table. Her breath catches.

Aashi. Vanya. Kiku.

Again. Her girls. Again hurt.

Her chair screeches back as she shoots to her feet.

Bela (to herself, shaken but firm):

“Na jaane kya haal hua hoga… Bhagwan kare zyada chot na lagi ho.”

She strides out—each step faster than the last, until she’s almost running.

MINUTES LATER

The scene she walks into feels frozen in time—

Khushi crouched low, gently patting Kiku’s scraped knee with cotton.

Vanshu beside Vanya, rubbing her back, humming softly like a lullaby.

Akshu finishing a band-aid on Aashi’s bruise—Aashi, uncharacteristically silent, lips pressed together.

Bela stops in her tracks. Her chest tightens.

For a second, she just watches. Her little girls, silent and sniffing.

Bela (breathless, stunned):

“Kya… kya ho gaya yaha?”

Six heads whip toward her voice.

Akshu stiffens. Khushi freezes mid-motion. Vanshu half-rises, unsure whether to speak.

And then—Kiku crumbles.

Vanu(bursting into sobs, running to her):

“Mummaaa! Unhone… unhone gira diya tha hume! Aashi aur Kiku ko bhi zor se dhakka diya… aur ab dawai laga rahe h toh dard ho raha hai…”

Bela’s face goes pale, then hardens. She drops to her knees, pulling all three of her girls into a fierce embrace. Her voice is soft to them, but a storm simmers underneath.

Bela (low, protective):

“Kisne kiya yeh?”

Akshu (steps forward, steady, respectful):

“Ma’am… Class 9 ki Nikita aur uski gang. Woh bully kar rahe the—dhakka diye, maara bhi. Humne sab record kiya hai. Agar aap chahein toh—”

Bela (cuts her off, raising a trembling hand, voice tight with fury):

“Woh baad mein. Pehle… first aid complete ho.”

She straightens, eyes sweeping over the scene, her tone snapping into command.

Bela (firm):

“Akshu. Vanshu. Inhe staff room le jao. Khushi—video forward karo mujhe abhi.”

Aashi, still held close, murmurs weakly:

Aashi (quiet):

“Mumma… mujhe zyada chot nahi lagi…”

Bela (sharp, eyes locking on her):

“Main decide karungi kisko kitni chot lagi hai. Aur tumse baad mein… alag se baat hogi, Miss Aashvi.”

Aashi immediately lowers her gaze, chastened.

Bela straightens to full height, her arms tightening protectively around her daughters. Her eyes burn—a lioness awakened.

Bela (to herself, seething):

“Nikita aur uske friends… iss baar direct principal ke paas jaayenge. Suspension ke bina baat khatam nahi hogi. Mere bacchon ko haath lagaya… ab consequences bhugtenge.”

The air around her feels heavier now. The trio exchanges uneasy glances. They know—when Bela Ma’am is like this—justice will follow, swift and unrelenting.

Team Aashvi was still huddled around Bela when suddenly—

Aashi (pouting, watery eyes, pointing at Khushi in full drama):

“Mummaaa… wo chashme wali didi ne mujhe zor se daanta! Aur jabardasti dawai bhi laga di! Aap unhe daanto na!”

Khushi freezes, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

Her mouth opens… nothing comes out.

Bela slowly turns her head toward Khushi. One eyebrow arches, dangerously perfect.

Bela (crossing her arms, voice low, deliberate):

“Ohhh? Chashme wali didi ne daanta?”

Khushi (stammering, waving her hands):

“N-nahi ma’am! Matlab… haan daanta tha thoda… lekin wo sun hi nahi rahi thi ma’am! Chot pe khoon aa raha tha… dawai lagana zaroori tha… toh maine bas—”

She trails off as Bela takes a slow step forward. Her glare sharpens — the kind that makes students remember their full family tree.

Bela (mock stern, cutting in):

“Sun nahi rahi thi toh… tum teacher ban jaogi? You’re the class monitor? Ya meri assistant ho?”

Kiku, Vanya, and Aashi burst into giggles, covering their mouths. Even Vanshu coughs to hide her laugh.

Khushi (flustered, panicked):

“Nahi ma’am! Bilkul bhi nahi! Main bas… situation mein… matlab… mujhe laga—”

Bela (dramatic sigh, glaring):

“‘Mujhe laga… kya mujhe laga…’ Tumhe laga ki bachhe ro rahe hain toh gussa karna best solution hai? Wah, future parenting skills.”

Akshu elbows Vanshu, whispering with a grin.

Akshu (teasing whisper):

“Bas… band baj rahi hai iski.”

Vanshu (trying not to laugh):

“Chehra dekh… abhi kuch der pehle daant rahi thi, ab chuha ban gayi hai.”

Aashi, still milking the drama, wipes her tears but continues innocently:

Aashi:

“Wo mujhe aise ghoor rahi thi jaise main koi chor hoon… ya criminal case chal raha ho!”

Khushi (almost squeaking, hands folded):

“Ma’am, please… I am sorry! I forgot my limits.. Sorry bol diya ab please…”

Bela narrows her eyes further, masking the twitch of her lips. She loves this nervous energy, but her voice stays stern.

Bela (firm, slow):

“Sorry? Bas sorry?Kya karun main tumhare sorry ka, bolo?”

The entire group bursts into laughter — even Kiku through her sniffles. Vanshu is clutching her stomach. Akshu wipes tears of laughter. Aashi hides behind Vanya, giggling.

But one sharp glare from Bela and all laughter dies instantly. She doesn’t smile — but the corners of her lips threaten to twitch. She masks it well.

Bela (deadly calm, staring Khushi down):

“Staff room. After school. Apology slip. Neat handwriting. Samjhi?”

Khushi’s shoulders slump. She nods quickly, guilt written all over her face.

Khushi (soft, defeated):

“Yes ma’am…”

As Bela turns, Aashi leans toward Kiku and Vanya, whispering with a grin:

Aashi (mischievous):

“Dekha? Ma’am ne chashme wali didi ki class le li! Aashi ko daanta tha na.. Revenge taken”

Khushi shoots her a warning look — but doesn’t dare say a word in front of Bela.

The trio exchange silent chuckles while Khushi sulks, head low. Bela, hiding her amusement, leads the juniors away — her aura still commanding, untouchable.

PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

The office is quiet. Principal Sharma sits behind his desk, flipping through some reports. The door suddenly swings open with a sharp thud.

Bela strides in, her presence commanding the entire room before she even speaks. Her eyes blaze with restrained fury, her jaw set tight. She clutches her phone in one hand.

Principal Sharma (looking up, mildly surprised):

“Bela Ma'am… what is it?”

Bela (clipped, controlled, but seething underneath):

“Sir, I need your attention immediately. This—” she places her phone firmly on the desk “—is not just indiscipline. This is violence.”

Principal raises his brows. Bela taps the phone and the video starts playing. The sound of Nikita and her gang shoving the juniors fills the office.

Sharma leans forward, expression hardening with every passing second.

Principal Sharma (low, appalled):

“They… actually hit them?”

Bela (nodding, voice trembling with anger):

“Yes. They pushed Vanya to the ground. Scraped Kiku’s knees. Raised hands on Aashi. And if Akshika, Vanshika, and Khushi hadn’t intervened, God knows how far it would have gone.”

Her hands ball into fists. She forces herself to stay calm, but her voice cuts like steel.

Bela (continuing):

“This is not the first time, sir. Nikita and her group have been warned before. Detentions, notes to parents… everything has been tried. But now? Now they’ve crossed a line.”

Principal Sharma exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.

Principal Sharma:

“Bela Ma'am, this is serious. We can’t allow such behavior. Suspension… maybe even expulsion—”

Bela (interrupting, firm, decisive):

“Suspension. At the very least. If we let this pass, tomorrow it will be worse. My girls are juniors, ma’am. Juniors who should feel safe in this school, not scared to walk the corridors.”

Her voice rises, passionate but unwavering.

Bela (emphatic):

“We teach discipline, we teach responsibility, but if seniors start thinking they can raise their hands on younger students… then we’ve failed. As teachers. As guardians.”

There’s a long silence. The video ends with Kiku crying faintly in the background. Sharma’s eyes soften, then steel again.

Principal Sharma (measured, resolute):

“You’re right. I’ll call Nikita’s parents. Her entire group will be suspended for a week. And they will apologize to the juniors in front of the whole class.”

Bela exhales slowly, some of the fury easing — but her protective fire still burns.

Bela (nodding firmly):

“Thank you sir. Because if the system won’t protect my students and daughters… I will.”

She picks up her phone, straightens her posture, and turns to leave. Her voice drops, almost to herself:

Bela (under her breath):

“No one touches my kids. Not while I’m here.”

The door shuts behind her with finality. Sharma watches her go, shaking her head with a small, admiring sigh.

Principal Sharma (to himself, half-smiling):

“This woman… a teacher, yes… but more than that… a guardian lioness.”

---

STAFF ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON

The ceiling-fan hums lazily, shuffling warm air across half-graded notebooks scattered on the table.

On one side:

Akshu, perched on a chair, arms folded, eyes locked on Aashi in an unblinking glare.

Aashi, lips pursed, glaring back in mock defiance.

Vanshu, crouched beside Vanya, gently fixing the little one’s ponytail.

Kiku, legs swinging on a bench, squeezing her teddy pouch like a stress ball.

Khushi, near the cabinet, hands clasped, chewing her lip, still pale from Bela’s earlier “apology slip” order.

The door creaks.

Bela strides in, files under her arm, her gaze sweeping the room with quiet command. Instantly, chatter dies.

She takes in the Akshu–Aashi stare-off, the younger ones giggling, and Khushi—standing like she’s on trial.

A slow, knowing smirk curves Bela’s lips.

Bela (deadpan, eyes on Khushi):

“Wah… witness box ready, criminal waiting… I only need a judge’s hammer.”

Khushi gulps.

Akshu and Vanshu exchange quick grins—recognising Ma’am’s ‘teasing mode’.

Bela steps closer, arms crossed.

Bela (mock stern, voice silky):

“So, Miss Khushi… ready with your Apology Slip of Doom?”

Khushi fidgets, eyes darting.

Khushi (nervous mumble):

“Ma’am… woh… main bas…”

Before she can finish, Bela turns—her gaze laser-sharp on Aashi.

Bela (arch sarcasm, to Aashi):

“Tumhare liye bhi ek slip banau for misbhevaing with seniors? Showing attitude to them Haa?”

Aashi’s glare wavers. She looks away, cheeks puffed.

Bela chuckles softly, then pivots back to Khushi.

Bela (mock sigh):

“ And you.. Honestly, Khushi… You don't need to waste your time and energy on this drama queen.. Ek toh dawai lagayi, uski help ki, aur tum aise guilty look de rahi ho jaise school ka fan tod diya ho.”

Khushi blinks, realising.

Akshu mutters under her breath, barely hiding a smile.

Akshu (teasing):

“Ma’am ka sarcasm meter full hai… aaj bach gayi Khushi.”

Bela (loud enough for all):

“Hmm. Apology slip cancel. Lekin”—her gaze flickers toward Aashi, voice dropping to a measured firmness—

“Note it, Miss Drama Queen. Khushi ne jo kiya, woh sahi tha. Chot pe dawai lagana koi insult nahi hota. Samajh aayi baat?”

Aashi shifts uncomfortably, mutters a tiny “Ji, Ma’am,” under her breath.

Vanshu (whispering to Vanya):

“Dekha? Told you Ma’am secretly loves scaring.”

Vanya (giggles):

“Scary-fun Ma’am.”

Bela finally relaxes her posture, softening her tone.

Bela (to all):

“Now enough theatrics. Pack your bags, go home, drink water, and complete your homework. Aur Khushi—next time guilt trip mat lena. Jab sahi ho, toh seedha khadi raho.”

Khushi exhales a shaky laugh, shoulders loosening for the first time all day.

Khushi (small smile):

“Thank you, Ma’am…”

Bela just flicks her fingers toward the door.

Bela (light tease):

“Out, warna main sach-much slip likhwa doongi.”

The room erupts in chuckles.

Aashi sulks, Khushi relieved finally smiles, and the heavy mood dissolves—leaving only the warmth of a teacher who knows exactly when to roar… and when to shield.

---

SEHGAL HOUSE – NIGHT

The house has finally exhaled.

Curtains breathe with the breeze spilling through the balcony; a wall-clock ticks in measured calm.

In the girls’ room, the lamp glows low. Aashvi, Vanya, and Kiku lie scattered in their nightdresses, hair an untidy crown of the day’s storms.

Kiku hugs a teddy half her size; antiseptic still glints faintly on Aashvi’s elbow.

Vanya, true to her “princess pose,” sleeps right in the middle—one palm over Aashvi’s cheek, a lazy leg flung across Kiku.

Across the hall, in another room Bela sits on the edge of her own bed, now in a loose tee and pajamas, elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes are far away, replaying every frame of the afternoon.

Those seniors circling like vultures… the startled cry when Kiku stumbled…

Khushi’s voice, sharp and protective… Akshu’s hawk glare, Vanshu’s calm shield.

Her own children flinching as antiseptic dabbed, Khushi scolding with equal parts panic and care.

She exhales, fingers knotting together.

Late entry. No breakfast. Homework forgotten. Collars rumpled, shoes dirty, hotel rooms instead of a home. Hungry, exhausted… yet that stubborn sparkle—yeh chhoti si fauj apni marzi se zindagi seekh rahi hai, aur main sirf dekh rahi hoon.

The door clicks.

Mahir walks in, phone at his ear:

“Hmm, email bhej dena. Kal baat karte hain.”

He ends the call, pockets the phone, and notices her slumped shoulders, eyes glazed with thought.

Quietly he crosses, sits beside her, folds her restless hands into his.

Mahir (soft):

“Abhi bhi school ka drama ghoom raha hai dimaag mein?”

Bela blinks, a tired smile tugging at her lips.

Bela (low, reflective):

“Poora din rewind ho raha hai, Mahir ji. Wo Nikita aur uski bullying… apne baccho ki chot dekh ke ek pal ko jaan hi nikal gayi thi. Phir dekha woh teeno calmly dawai laga rahi thi, aur Aashi wo toh Akshu aur Khushi par chidh rahi thi...Akshu ki aankhon mein woh gussa, Vanshu ka calmly sabko handle karna… sab kuch aankhon ke saamne hai.”

(she exhales)

“Fir unki baatein… hotel mein rehna, flats dhoondhna… itni si umar mein itne bade sapne—independence. Aur aankhon mein woh spark, jaise keh rahi ho—hum sambhaal lenge, Ma’am.”

Her gaze shifts toward Mahir, voice gentler.

Bela:

“Bachpan ki masti ke waqt yeh ladkiyan jeevan sambhalna seekh rahi hain. Par lagta hai… raasta galat na ho, bas yeh dekhna padega.”

Mahir squeezes her fingers, smile curling.

Mahir (light tease):

“Breaking news—SHO Bela apna dil haar baithi teen ladkiyon par.”

Bela tries a glare but ends up laughing softly, the knot in her chest loosening.

Bela (half-smile):

“Aapko mazak lagta hai? Sochiye—wahan kitne seniors the, phir bhi yeh teen hi aage aaye. Kyu? Kya fark pad raha tha unhe?Chahe team Aashvi ko safely thana pohchana ho, ice-cream khilani ho ya aaj ki madad… koi aur hota toh ja chuka hota. Especially Aashi ke pranks aur attitude ke baad bhi unhone haath nahi khincha. Ulta Khushi ne usi ko daant diya!. Yeh sab normal toh nhi ho sakta na Mahir ji.”

Mahir (nodding):

“Bilkul. Lekin socho Bela, woh bhi toh akeli reh rahi hain, manage kar rahi hain sab kuch. Aasaan nahi hai. Tumhein un par nazar rakhni hogi—guidance dogi toh unka junoon sahi raaste par jayega. Tumhare jaise koi unhe samajh nahi sakta, aur unhone har baar humare bacchon ki help ki h. Aashi ke aise behaviour ke bawajood… yeh maturity, yeh himmat, sabke paas nahi hoti.”

He slips an arm around her shoulder; she leans lightly, head against him, still glancing toward her sleeping daughters.

Bela (whisper):

“Bas dua karti hoon, Mahir ji… yeh spark kabhi bujhe nahi.”

Team Aashvi unaware of what was brewing their parent's mind was sleeping peacefully,

---

HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

Mumbai’s traffic hum filters faintly through the balcony grille; a lone scooter horn echoes and fades. The fluorescent tube flickers, casting a pale wash over three slumped figures.

Freshly pressed school uniforms hang from the back of a chair like silent sentries—Bela Ma’am’s discipline lingering in cloth and crease.

On the bed:

Akshu sits cross-legged in shorts and a tee, notebook propped on a pillow, pen ticking against the margin.

Khushi, oversized tee and joggers, sprawls on her stomach, wrestling with math problems.

Vanshu, hoodie draped loose, knees tucked under, scrolls half-heartedly through yet another rental listing.

An open chip packet lies abandoned on the table, its crunch long forgotten.

Vanshu (muttering at her phone)

“Phir se no-response… ek dealer toh advance maang raha bina flat dikhaye. Scam hi lag raha hai sab.”

Silence settles, heavy but companionable—today’s chaos drained them dry.

Akshu (still scribbling, distracted)

“Seriously… humne team Aashvi ki help kyun ki? Wo ladki ka attitude khatam hi nahi hota. Meri toh dushman thi, kitna pareshaan kiya usne.”

Khushi (dry chuckle, pen twirling)

“Tu toh bas kisi ko bhi takleef mein dekhegi toh help karegi. Wo toh phir bhi chhoti si bacchi hai, thodi ziddi bas… par maine kyu daant diya use? Kya ho gaya tha mujhe… itna gussa, jaise kuch andar se trigger ho gaya.”

Vanshu (half-smile, eyes on screen)

“Kuch connections explain nahi hote… bas feel hote hain.”

They exchange a tired, genuine chuckle.

Khushi (after a beat, softer)

“Par jab Ma’am ne bola ‘Khushi sahi thi’… I swear saans wapas aa gayi. Pehle toh apology slip ki demand sunke heart attack aa gaya tha.”

Akshu (nods, thoughtful)

“Haan… clear lesson: sahi ho toh stand firm—even agar kisi ki ‘drama queen’ ego tut jaye bandaid lagate waqt.”

Vanshu (faint grin)

“Team Unstoppable ka rule h... First help uske baad jo hoga dekha jayega.”

Their pens pause mid-word; the room exhales. Outside, a passing train hums a low lullaby.

---

Akshu (stretching, stifling a yawn)

“Chalo, homework niptao. Warna kal phir Bela Ma’am ki daant sunni padegi.. Uff ek toh unke glares.. Insaan wahi chup ho Jaata h.”

Khushi (mock salute)

“Roger that, Captain.”

Vanshu (locking her phone)

“Kal ek aur dealer try karenge. Flat milega ya nhi pata nhi… par yeh Mumbai bhi exam se kam nahi.”

Laughter ripples—soft, private, enough to warm the cramped room. Three friends, battered by the day yet steadier for it.

HOTEL ROOM – EARLY MORNING

A faint grey light leaks past the curtains; the city hasn’t fully woken but horns already pepper the silence.

A phone alarm trills.

Akshu (groggy, slapping the phone)

“Uff… paanch minute aur…”

Khushi (face still buried in pillow, muffled)

“Paanch minute ka matlab ek ghanta hota hai teri dictionary mein.”

Vanshu (already upright, hoodie tossed aside)

“Utho dono… Bela Ma’am ki attendance register yaad hai? Late hue toh flying scale milega aaj.”

She flicks the switch; the tube light buzzes awake.

The uniforms—meticulously ironed last night—wait on hangers. One by one they pull pieces down: crisp pleats, gleaming buttons, socks matched in sleepy silence.

Akshu, toothbrush clenched, hair tied in a lopsided bun, searches for her tie.

Khushi checks her math notebook, checking for the last time.

Vanshu brings three paper cups, two of coffee(obviously for her and Akshu) and one chai for Khushi, balancing them on a chipped tray.

The hiss of a steam iron; collar straightening; shoelaces pulled tight.

A fleeting glimpse of Bela Ma’am’s stern face in their imagination—like a motivational poster no one asked for.

Khushi (sipping tea, mock dread)

“Bas ek din bhi late hue na ab toh Ma’am ka lecture sunna padega phir se.”

Akshu (half-yawn, half-grin)

“Better Ma’am ka lecture than Mumbai ka traffic.”

Vanshu (slinging her bag)

“Chalo… Chalo auto mil jaaye bas.”

They grab bags, check for pens, keys, the ever-vanishing ID cards. The door clicks shut behind them.

---

LANE OUTSIDE HOTEL – MORNING RUSH

The sun is climbing, heat shimmering off the tarmac. Horns echo, rickshaw stands lie deserted.

Akshu, Khushi and Vanshu stand at the roadside, bags slung, scanning desperately.

Khushi (checking watch, anxious)

“Pandra minute ho gaye… ek bhi auto nahi! Kaise school jayenge yaar?”

Vanshu (shielding eyes, scanning both ends)

“Maybe yahan se thoda aage mil jaaye?”

Akshu (muttering)

“Abhi time dekho… sirf bees minute bache hain. Ma’am ke gusse ka meter pehle hi high alert pe hoga.”

A passer-by, uncle with a jhola, overhears and chuckles.

Passer-by

“Beta aaj poore area mein auto strike hai. Koi rickshaw nahi milega.”

They freeze.

Akshu (wide-eyed)

“Kya? Strike? Ab toh gaye kaam se…”

Khushi (hands on head)

“Walking se toh at least aadha ghanta lagega. Aur Ma’am ka scale… yaad hai pichli baar ka?”

Vanshu (grim)

“Attendance ke saath-saath reputation bhi chali jayegi.”

They start pacing, waving frantically at passing scooters, but every rider shakes a head—already triple-loaded, no space.

Akshu (biting lip)

“Option kya bacha? Hitchhike?”

Khushi (desperate)

“Haan par kaun rukega? Sab office rush mein hain.”

Just then a gleaming black sedan glides into the lane, window down, a man in crisp formals at the wheel, Bluetooth clipped to his ear.

Akshu (squinting)

“Luxury car… koi big boss type… kya kare?”

Khushi (throwing up hands)

“Bas isi pe daav lagate hain. Nahi toh detention guaranteed.”

Before Vanshu can protest, Akshu and Khushi dart ahead, planting themselves a few feet in front of the moving car, waving.

Driver (Mahir) (hitting brake, startled)

“Are you girls mad or what?Kya kar rahe ho tum log?!”

The car halts with a soft screech. Mahir pulls the Bluetooth aside, brows knitting.

Akshu (breathless, palms joined)

“Sir please… madad chahiye. Auto strike hai, school ke liye late ho jayenge. Sirf dus-pandrah minute bache hain!”

Khushi (nodding frantically)

“Please drop kar dijiye… Greenfield Pulic School… Warna Ma’am hume chhodenge nhi!”

Vanshu(requesting)

"Please sir, I know this is wrong but koi option nhi h humare pass, already ek late remark lag chuka h please sir."

Mahir blinks, glances at their immaculate uniforms, the panic plain on their faces.

Mahir (half-amused, half-concerned)

“Greenfield Public School?Bela Ma'am teacher h?”

The girls exchange a startled look.

Vanshu (shocked)

“Sir… aap jaante hain Bela Ma’am ko?”

Mahir (a faint smile, unlocking doors)

“Thoda bohot. Chalo, chadh jao jaldi. Warna unse mai tumhe nhi bacha sakunga.”

The three gape for half a beat—realising far too late who this might be—then scramble into the plush back seat.

The sedan glided smoothly back into gear, indicator winking as Mahir eased off the clutch. The Bluetooth lay snapped shut in its case now, silence filling the plush cabin.

Inside, the three girls sat stiff as rulers—bags clutched tight, hearts still racing from the near-miss.

Mahir (glancing at them in the rear-view, voice calmer)

“Relax… you’ll reach on time, don’t worry. By the way, your names?”

Akshu (still catching breath)

“Uh… Akshika… Class 9-B.”

Khushi (hesitant)

“Khushi… same class.”

Vanshu (offers a small smile)

“Vanshika… same, sir.”

Mahir’s brows lifted. The exact trio Bela had been sharing her concerns, half-praising last night.

Mahir (low chuckle)

“Accha… toh tum log ho jo Greenfield mein chhoti-chhoti kranti laa rahe ho? Kal raat ek teacher bas tum teenon ki kahaani suna rahi thi. That how you saved your juniors from bullying.”

The girls shot each other a quick, panicked glance.

Akshu (eyes narrowing)

“Kaun teacher, sir?”

Mahir (light shrug, eyes on the road)

“Naam lena zaruri hai kya? Waise suna hai, kaafi ‘unstoppable’ ho tum log.”

Vanshu bit her lip to hide a grin. Khushi fidgeted with her bag strap. Akshu kept squinting, still suspicious of how he knew.

Khushi (murmuring)

“Nothing great, sir… hum bas galat ko galat bolte hain.”

Mahir (amused, half-teasing)

“Good. Waise bhi, school life boring hoti agar kuch teekha mirch masala na ho.”

A quiet laugh escaped Akshu, the tension finally easing.

Traffic opened up and the sedan slid faster, neem trees flashing by as the school spire peeked over rooftops.

Mahir (checking his watch)

“Bas paanch minute mein gate aa jayega. Dekho, aaj toh bach gaye… kal se strike na ho toh auto pakad lena, warna mujhe phir road pe mat rok lena!”

Vanshu (smiling shyly)

“Thank you, sir… warna scale pakka tha aaj.”

Mahir (half-smile, sotto voce)

“Scale wali teacher ko main bhi jaanta hoon… woh bas dikhati hain ki dangerous hai.”

The girls blinked at each other—what did he mean?—but the car was already slowing near the school gate.

Mahir eased to a perfect stop by the curb.

Mahir (unlocking the doors)

“Jaao, bell bajne se pehle andar. Aur agli baar bina dekhe road pe mat daudna—jaan bhi zaruri hai, attendance ke saath.”

The trio tumbled out, adjusting ribbons and backpacks.

Akshu (genuinely)

“Sir, thank you… really.”

Mahir (small nod, hiding a smile)

“Have a good day, Team Unstoppable.”

Before they could ask how he knew the nickname, the sedan had already merged back into traffic, tail-lights glinting.

The girls stood frozen for a beat, whisper-grinning.

Vanshu (whisper)

“Yeh sir kaun the… aur ‘Team Unstoppable’ kaise pata?”

Khushi (chewing her lip, intrigued)

“Lagta hai… Bela Ma’am ko bohot personally jaante hain.”

Akshu (grinning as the bell rings)

“Jo bhi ho… hume bachaa liya. Ab bhaago class!”

They sprinted toward the gates, hearts thumping with a brand-new curiosity about the mysterious man who’d just become their unexpected savior.

---

To be continued...