So let’s begin,
SEHGAL HOUSE – KITCHEN(continued)
The kitchen looked like a battlefield.
Flour on the counter.
Milk on the floor.
Stove still warm.
And in the middle of it all—
Bela.
Jaw tight.
Eyes blazing.
Voice low enough to chill the room.
Bela (dangerously calm):
“Yeh sab… HUA kaise?”
The question hit like a gunshot.
Khushi froze.
Akshu stepped back.
Vanshu didn’t even breathe.
Silence clung to the air.
Bela’s gaze snapped to Khushi first.
Bela (voice suddenly rising, sharp as a whip):
“Khushi! Tumhe kisne bola tha kitchen mein aake yeh sab karne ke liye? Kitchen koi khelne ki jagah hai? Ya tumhe lagta hai tum itni trained ho ki sab sambhaal logi?”
Khushi opened her mouth, trembling.
Khushi: “Ma’am hum log bas—”
Bela (cuts through her words, stern):
“No. Shut up. Pehle meri baat suno.”
Her voice thundered in the room.
Bela:
“Aata mix karna nahi aata. Gas thik se on-off karna nahi aata. Toh kya zaroorat thi yeh experiment karne ki? Aur yeh dekho—”
She pointed at the stove.
“Gas JALTI chhod di thi tumne?! Khushi, agar kuch ho jaata toh? Agar tumhe chot lag jaati? Ya koi haadsa ho jaata? Toh kya karti? Itni bhi samajh nahi hai tum logon ko?”
Khushi felt the words hit her like stones.
Her throat closed up.
Her eyes dropped instantly.
Bela (disappointed, stern):
“Kuch aata nahi toh mat karo. Har cheez experiment banane ki zaroorat nahi hoti. Aur especially kitchen mai kaam karna koi mazak nhi h.. Yaha zara si nazar hatne se, choti si galti se kuch bhi ho sakta h.. ”
Khushi whispered, voice breaking:
“Sorry, ma’am…”
Bela (cold):
“No. Abhi sorry mat bolo. I’m not in the mood to hear it.”
Her eyes shifted to Akshu and Vanshu.
Bela (sharp, unforgiving):
“Aur tum dono? Kya socha tha? Itna aasaan hota hai sab manage karna? Tum teeno abhi bacche ho. Bina soche samjhe ‘hum karenge’ bol diya… aur lag gaye kaam par.”
Akshu’s smile disappeared.
Her shoulders wilted.
Vanshu’s eyes filled instantly, her lip trembling.
Bela continued, voice edged with frustration and fear:
“Pura ghar playground bana rakha hai tum sab ne! Kitchen ka yeh haal… rooms ki condition…
Main samajh nahi pa rahi —
Main saaf karu, tum logon ko ready karu, khud ready hu ya tumhari galtiyan theek karu?”
The trio stood motionless.
Bela (deep disappointment):
“Ek baar knock kar leti. Ek baar bula leti mujhe. Tumhe dikh nahi raha tha ki main late ho gayi hoon.. Par nhi tum logo ne decide kar liya ki sab kuch khud hi kar loge”
Akshu (tiny voice):
“Ma’am… hum bas load kam karna chahte the…”
Vanshu (barely audible):
“Aap roz humare liye itna karti ho… humne socha ek din hum help kar de…”
Bela stepped closer — not shouting now, but her voice carried far more weight.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Painfully honest.
Bela:
“Pyaar se kiya hua kaam bhi galat ho jata hai… jab usmein samajh aur zimmedaari na ho.”
That line.
That was the one that shattered them.
Bela:
“Yeh baat kadvi h par jitna jaldi samajh loge utna accha h.. Yeh duniya ko tumhari ‘intention’ se koi fark nhi padta bas ‘result’ se padta h.. Agar wo negative h toh tum chahe jitne acche ho jao.. You will always be judged and blamed for everything.”
Khushi blinked rapidly, struggling not to cry.
Akshu’s throat bobbed as she swallowed her tears.
Vanshu’s chin trembled visibly.
Only one thought crossing their mind:
“Hum toh accha karna chahte the par sab ulta ho gaya. Maybe Ma’am is right.”
Guilt settled on them like a dense fog.
Their morning excitement, their giggles, their enthusiasm —
All gone.
Only silence.
Only regret.
Only three sisters standing like punished children…
Faces flushed.
Eyes wet.
Hearts sinking.
For the first time, Bela wasn’t angry because of the mess.
She was angry because—
They acted out of love but forgot the responsibility.
They tried to help but created mess and danger.
They scared her.
And her disappointment hurt more than any scolding ever could.
The trio didn’t explain themselves.
Didn’t crack jokes.
Didn’t defend their intentions.
They just stood there—
Silent.
Sad.
Guilty.
One breath away from tears.
Bela did not respond further calming her nerves, she simply grabbed the cloth, the utensils, the fallen aata, the spilled milk —
And began cleaning furiously.
Her anger wasn’t loud anymore.
It was quiet, tight, and deadly.
The trio stood rooted like guilty statues —
Hands folded, heads down, tears dangerously close.
Each clink of steel…
Each harsh wipe of the counter…
Each irritated sigh…
Felt like a punch to their stomach.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Especially Khushi —
Whose guilt was eating her alive.
Khushi (thinking, broken):
Ma’am ko help karne aayi thi… aur zyada gussa kar diya…
Kitchen koi mazak karne ki jagah nahi hoti…
Main hi bewakoof hoon…
Finally —
Akshu stepped forward.
Her voice trembled, courage hanging by a thread.
Akshu (soft, cracking):
“Ma’am…
Hum jaante h aap gussa ho…
Par please… we’re sorry…”
Bela continued scrubbing the stove aggressively, not looking at her.
Akshu’s throat tightened.
Akshu (voice shaking):
“Hum… bas aapki help karna chahte the…
Ek din ke liye…
Sab galat ho gaya… par humne koshish ki thi…”
Her voice broke.
Akshu (almost crying):
“Please ma’am… maaf kar dijiye…”
Bela paused.
Just for a second.
But did not turn.
The trio exchanged a panicked look.
Khushi stepped forward now, voice tiny, nervous — but desperate.
Khushi:
“Ma’am… hum…
Hum aapse ek request karna chahte the…”
Bela’s shoulders stiffened.
Khushi gulped.
Khushi:
“Ma’am… please… humari punishments cancel kar dijiye…”
Bela finally froze.
But she still didn’t turn around.
Akshu immediately added — voice desperate, pleading:
Akshu:
“Ma’am please…
Mujhe class ke bahar khada nahi rehna h…
Mujhe samajh aa gaya h… galti nahi dohraungi…
Aap bolenge toh mai ghar pe punishment kar lungi…
Par class ke bahar nahi… please ma’am…”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
It wasn’t drama.
It was real fear.
Real regret.
Khushi joined in, voice small:
Khushi:
“Ma’am…
Radhika ma’am ke saamne…
Mujhe bilkul accha nahi lagta…
Mujhe pata h maine galat kiya… badtameezi ki… Par ab nhi ho raha mujhse unko roz jhelna.”
She quickly wiped her cheek.
Khushi (broken whisper):
“Aap jo bologe hum ghar pe punishment karenge…
Par waha nahi… unke saamne nahi… please ma’am…”
Then Vanshu, who had been silent the longest, finally stepped forward.
She held her hands together tightly.
Her eyes were already wet.
Vanshu (soft, sincere):
“Ma’am…
Mera phone de dijiye… please…
Mai ab kuch bhi hoga toh batungi…
Kabhi nahi chupaungi… kisi se bhi nahi…”
Her voice cracked.
All three now stood in front of Bela…
Not arguing.
Not making excuses.
Not cracking jokes.
Just three guilty kids
Begging for another chance
From the one person whose disappointment hurts them the most.
The kitchen fell quiet again.
Only Bela’s steady, controlled breathing filled the air.
Slowly…
She put down the cloth.
Straightened.
But still didn’t turn around.
The trio waited, hearts pounding painfully.
Because when Bela stayed quiet —
It meant something far worse than anger.
For a long moment…
Only the ticking sound of the wall clock echoed in the kitchen.
Then—
Very slowly—
Bela straightened her shoulders…
Took one deep breath…
…and finally turned around.
Her expression?
Calm. Too calm.
The kind of calm that is ten times more dangerous than her anger.
The trio stiffened instantly.
Khushi’s fingers curled nervously.
Akshu swallowed a sob.
Vanshu wiped her cheeks quickly.
Bela’s eyes moved over the three of them…
Not angry now.
Just… disappointed.
And that was worse.
Bela (quiet, controlled, steady as steel):
“Tumlog chahte ho… punishments cancel kar du?”
The trio nodded instantly, like bobbleheads.
“Yes ma’am…”
“Yes please…”
“Sorry ma’am…”
Bela raised a hand —
They all froze.
Bela (voice low, deadly calm):
“Ek baat batao…
Agar mai…
Aaj…
Yeh punishment cancel kardu…”
Her eyes locked directly onto Khushi.
“…kya tum teen…
Galtiyaan karna band kar doge?”
Khushi’s breath hitched.
Akshu’s eyes widened.
Vanshu stopped breathing entirely.
Bela took one step closer.
Bela:
“Galti tumhari thi.
Zidd tumhari thi.
Irresponsibility bhi.”
Her words cut clean through the silence.
Bela (firmer):
“Par punishments maine di thi.
Soch ke.
Samajh ke.
Tumhari bhalai ke liye.”
Another step closer.
The trio almost shrank.
She wasn’t shouting.
She didn’t need to.
Her quiet tone alone shook them.
Bela:
“Tum teen soch rahe ho ki help karne aaye the? Ma’am ko khush karenge.. Aur usse tumhari punishment cancel ho jayegi..
Achha.
Par jis cheez ka experience nahi hota…
Use zimmedari nahi kehte.”
The trio’s eyes dropped.
Bela (soft, but piercing):
“Main teacher hoon.
Aur—”
She paused.
Her voice dropped an octave.
“…tumhari guardian bhi.”
The line hit them straight in the chest.
Bela:
“Meri duty hai tumhe sudharna.
Sikhana.
Discipline dena.
Punishment dena.”
She tilted her head slightly.
Bela:
“Aur tum teen…
Punishments cancel karna chahte ho?
Because YOU don’t ‘feel like’ doing them?”
The trio’s hearts sank.
Akshu (whispering):
“Ma’am… sorry…”
Vanshu (meek):
“Hume… samajh aa gaya h…”
Khushi (voice cracking):
“Please ma’am… hum galat the…”
Bela’s jaw tightened.
Then…
Her tone dropped to that eerily calm register again —
Bela:
“Galtiya maaf ho sakti hai.”
The trio looked up hopefully.
Bela (continuing, calm like a storm about to break):
“Lekin consequences?
Wo cancel nahi hote,
Face kiye jaate hain.”
Their hope shattered.
Khushi felt her breath catch.
Akshu blinked away tears.
Vanshu’s shoulders slumped.
Bela stepped even closer now —
Close enough that they felt the weight of her words.
Bela:
“Punishment cancel hogi ya nhi wo mai baad mai decide karungi.”
A pin-drop silence.
Bela finally stepped back, voice still calm:
“Ab jao.
School ke liye ready ho jao.
Aur wapas kitchen mein pair mat rakhna jab tak main na bolu.”
The trio scrambled to leave—
But just before they exited, Bela added quietly:
“Aur ek baat…”
They froze.
Turned slowly.
Bela (soft but sharp):
“Next time… help karne se pehle…
Pooch lena.
Main allow kar dungi.”
A pause.
Then she looked at them with something softer hiding behind her strictness:
“Tum teen bacche ho.
Tumhara kaam galti karna hai.
…aur mera kaam tumhe sambhalna.”
That broke them.
Completely.
Their eyes filled.
Their guilt deepened.
And their respect for her multiplied.
The trio walked out of the kitchen slowly…
Heads down. Shoulders slumped. Eyes red. No giggles. No bickering. No energy.
No jokes. No teasing. No morning chaos.
Only silence.
The kind of silence that comes when guilt sits too heavy on the chest.
At the bus stop, All six — Aashi, Kiku, Vanu, and the elder trio— stood waiting for the school bus.
Usually it was chaos.
Aashi running, Kiku fighting for the window seat, Vanu telling some weird flying-creature theory, Akshu teasing Vanshu, Khushi scolding them all.
But today?
Not a word.
Even the conductor looked confused when they climbed in silently.
The engine roared.
But inside the bus?
Dead silence.
Aashi tried once to nudge Akshu.
Aashi (whispering): “Kya hua? Itna sad kyu ho sab?”
Akshu didn’t respond.
Vanshu stared out of the window, cheek pressed to the cold glass.
Khushi fiddled with her fingers, lost in deep shame.
Aashi looked at the three of them, confused, then whispered to Kiku: “Lagta h bohot badi daant pad gayi inko…”
Kiku only nodded.
For the first time ever— Aashi didn’t dare crack a joke.
Even the bus felt the tension.
The elder trio sat together, but they didn’t speak at all.
And the silence followed them all the way till the school gates.
SEHGAL HOUSE – MORNING AFTER CHAOS
The door had barely clicked shut behind the kids when
Bela finally let out the breath she’d been holding since sunrise.
The house was silent now…
But the kitchen?
Still looked like a crime scene.
Bela stared at it… dead inside.
Bela (pressing her temples, muttering):
“Abhi yeh sab saaf karo… phir school bhi jaana h…
Haaye Bhagwaan, kaise hoga sab…”
She didn’t waste another second.
Roll sleeves. Deep inhale. Begin mission.
Scrub—wipe—clear—swipe—dump—rinse—wipe again.
Her hands moved fast, practiced, tired.
A mix of irritation, motherhood, and duty.
Exactly then, Shanti Didi walked in… and froze mid-step.
Shanti Didi:
“Arey madam… yeh… yeh kya ho gaya yahan?!”
Bela didn’t even look up, still scrubbing the stove with the aggression of a betrayed heroine.
Bela:
“Didi, bas… aap aa gyi, bohot achha hua.
Aap floor sambhaliye please. Main counter khatam kar leti hoon.
School jaana h… waqt nhi h bilkul.”
She switched cloths, wiped again, and started giving rapid-fire instructions:
Bela:
“Didi, fresh doodh boil karke rakha h—
Thanda ho jaye toh fridge mai rakh dena.”
Wipe wipe wipe
“Lunch ke liye sabji kaat ke tyaar rakh dena—
Fridge mai first shelf.”
Clink—vessel placed back
“Kapde machine mai daal diye h…
Spin ho jaye toh verandah pe sukha dena. Clips acche se laga dena warna hawa se udd jayenge. Aur baccho ke kapde andar ke taraf daal dena.”
Shanti Didi nodded rapidly, trying to keep up.
Meanwhile Bela kept muttering under her breath:
Bela (exasperated but fond):
“Ek din… ek din help karne chale the…
Aur poore ghar ko laboratory bana diya teenon ne…
Uff ye bacche bhi na…”
Still complaining, still cleaning, but her voice carried that soft invisible worry only a mother has.
Within minutes the stove shined,
The counters gleamed,
The chaos shrunk back into order.
She washed her hands, threw the cloth aside, and rushed to her room.
Quick hair.
Minimal makeup.
Warm blazer.
Bag.
Watch.
Phone.
Deep breath.
Before stepping out, she found Mahir still half-asleep on the sofa, hair messy, blanket around him.
She softened—just a little.
Bela:
“Main chalti hoon.
Kuch kha lena aap time se…
Aur please… Jaane se pehle sab check kar lena ek baar.”
Mahir nodded obediently, eyes barely open.
She smiled tiredly, locked the door behind her, and finally stepped out.
Cold winter air hit her face.
A brand-new day waited.
But after that morning?
It already felt like she had lived an entire lifetime.
And the day…
Was still not done with her.
---
GREENFIELD PUBLIC SCHOOL –
By the time Bela reached school, the campus was already alive.
Cold winter air…
Morning assembly music echoing through the corridors…
Teachers rushing with files…
And somewhere, children laughing as if 5 a.m. disasters don’t exist in the world.
Bela adjusted her scarf, took a deep breath, and walked in with the same dignity she always carried—
Even though she had cleaned a war-zone of a kitchen just 45 minutes ago.
8:10 AM – THE ASSEMBLY GROUND
Bela walked through the corridor with her usual confidence…
And Team Unstoppable?
Still sitting in their class, carrying the guilt she had left them with.
She couldn’t stop thinking about them.
As she reached near her staffroom, teachers began greeting her:
“Good morning, Bela Ma’am!”
“Ma’am, the timetable—”
“Ma’am, meeting in the principal’s room at 10!”
Bela nodded mechanically, responding politely, but her mind was still replaying the morning scene…
Khushi’s trembling voice.
Akshu’s tear-filled apology.
Vanshu’s pleading eyes.
And that gnawing guilt sitting in their chest.
A sigh escaped Bela before she could stop it.
🔵 Meanwhile – INSIDE CLASS 9-B
The trio sat at their benches silently.
Not whispering.
Not giggling.
Not planning pranks.
Not bickering.
Just sitting.
Stiff.
Sad.
Quiet.
Even their classmates were confused.
Shreya nudged Vanshu.
Shreya:
“Tum theek ho? Aaj itni chup kyu ho?”
Vanshu simply shook her head.
Akshu stared blankly at her notebook.
Not doodling.
Not chatting.
Khushi kept tapping her pen on the desk—her anxiety showing.
The bell rang.
Nobody moved.
🔵 Staffroom – Bela’s POV unfolding
Bela entered the staffroom and sank into her chair, exhaling deeply.
She rubbed her temples, replaying her own words.
“Punishments cancel hogi ya nahi… baad mein decide karungi.”
She meant it.
But the look on their faces…
It haunted her.
Bela (thinking):
Unhone help karne ka socha tha…
Galti ki, haan…
Par unki intention buri nhi thi.
She clenched her jaw.
Aur maine… unpe thoda zyada chilla diya shayad.
School papers lay open in front of her, but she wasn’t reading a single word.
Every few seconds her mind drifted back:
Akshu’s cracking voice—
“Please ma’am… class ke bahar mat khada rakhiye…”
Khushi’s fear—
“Radhika ma’am ke saamne accha nahi lagta…”
Vanshu’s sincerity—
“Mera phone de dijiye na… main ab nahi chupaungi…”
A tightness formed in Bela’s chest.
She hated the feeling.
This heaviness.
This worry.
These three cranky tornadoes had become her responsibility…
Her girls.
Even if she never admitted it aloud.
🔵 CLASS 9-B – PERIOD CHANGE
The bell rang again.
The trio didn’t move.
Khushi finally whispered:
Khushi:
“Yaar… ma’am bohot disappoint ho gayi humse… Meri hi galti h kyu hi gayi mai kitchen mai..”
Vanshu swallowed hard.
Vanshu:
“Mujhe laga… hum achha kar rahe h… par sab galat ho gaya.”
Akshu wiped her eyes discreetly.
Akshu:
“Ma’am ko kabhi sad nahi karna chahte the…
Humne fir se galti ki…”
The three looked at each other —
And for first time…
No jokes.
No “tum hi galat thi”.
No argument.
Just shared guilt.
Shared fear.
Shared love for the person they disappointed.
--
The corridor was freezing.
Rain hammered against the windows.
Cold wind rushed in through the half-open vents.
The floor glistened with moisture.
And Akshu…
Poor Akshu…
She stood outside the class exactly where Bela had ordered her to stand.
Her punishment spot.
Blazer pehenke bhi kaanp rahi thi.
Her fingers had turned ice cold.
Her lips trembled as she pressed them together.
She kept shifting from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm.
But nothing helped.
Khushi and Vanshu were inside, sitting stiffly at their benches…
Both staring helplessly at Akshu through the glass pane.
Khushi (whispering, worried):
“Yaar… isse sach mai thand lag rahi h… Aise toh tabiyat kharab ho jayegi uski.”
Vanshu bit her lip, guilty and tense.
“M’am ke saamne kuch bolenge toh…yahi daant pad jayegi.”
Khushi nodded miserably.
“Par yeh toh hadd h… Akshu ko bachpan se thand se issue hota h…”
Both watched helplessly as Akshu hugged herself through the blazer, trying to breathe normally.
The entire class sat with straight backs and zipped lips.
Because—
It was Bela’s period.
And after today’s kitchen explosion…
Nobody had the courage to even blink loudly.
Khushi, Vanshu…
Both were already sweating despite the cold.
Their fear said everything.
---
Bela arrives
Her heels clicked sharply down the corridor.
Students instantly sat straighter.
Khushi grabbed her pen like it was a lifeline.
Vanshu inhaled sharply.
The class door opened—
And Bela stepped inside, her expression ice-calm and unreadable.
But before entering fully,
her eyes flicked toward the corridor…
…toward Akshu.
And for a second—
Just one second—
Bela’s expression shifted.
A tiny flicker of concern flashed across her stern face.
Because she saw it clearly:
Akshu’s bowed head.
Her trembling hands.
Her stiff posture.
Her lips turning pale.
Her whole body shivering uncontrollably whenever a cold gust hit her.
Bela’s jaw tightened.
Inside the class, Khushi and Vanshu saw that flicker.
They froze.
Khushi (thinking, terrified):
Ma’am ne dekh liya… ab kya hoga…
Vanshu (thinking):
Please Bhagwaan… ma’am thoda pighal jaaye… Akshu sach mai nahi khadi reh paayegi yeh thand mai…
---
Akshu outside — POV
She tried rubbing her palms together inside her blazer pockets.
But they were too numb.
Her breath came out in tiny white puffs.
Her eyes stung.
Akshu (murmuring to herself, broken):
“Bas… kuch minute aur…
Bas thodi der aur…”
She blinked rapidly trying not to cry.
Not from fear.
But from the freezing pain crushing her fingers.
---
Back inside the class
Bela placed her notebook on the table.
She didn’t start teaching.
Instead, she turned again—
Her gaze landing on Akshu.
This time longer.
Sharper.
Quieter.
Khushi’s heart stopped.
Vanshu clutched her blazer nervously.
Students followed Bela’s gaze and spotted Akshu outside.
Whispers began.
Bela didn’t raise her voice—
She didn’t need to.
Her silence spoke volumes.
Her eyes softened—
Just enough for Khushi to see it.
Not pity.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Understanding.
And concern buried under discipline.
The classroom was frozen in silence.
Bela’s eyes remained fixed on Akshu —
But she didn’t speak.
Her fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the notebook.
Once.
Twice.
A tiny, almost invisible hesitation.
Khushi noticed it immediately.
Vanshu’s heart thudded painfully.
Because Bela NEVER hesitated.
Her gaze on Akshu wasn’t the sharp, punishing glare.
It wasn’t even the expressionless mask she used for discipline.
It was something else.
Something quieter.
Something that made Khushi swallow hard.
A strange softness flickered—
A softness Bela tried to kill instantly by tightening her jaw again.
She looked down at her notebook.
Then back at Akshu.
Then down again.
A battle was happening behind those stern eyes.
BELA’S POV
She’s shivering…
Uff yeh ladki bhi na… coat pehena h phir bhi haalat dekho…
Bahar baarish bhi… aur usse thand jaldi lagti h…
Her heart tugged sharply.
The morning kitchen mess still stung her nerves,
But this…
THIS wasn’t punishment anymore.
This was suffering.
Main bula loon?
Andar aa jaaye toh thoda garam h yaha…
Her throat tightened.
But…
Her mind snapped back to the morning.
The chaos.
The mistakes.
The mess.
The stress.
The guilt in their eyes.
Their careless attempt to take responsibilities they weren’t ready for.
If she called Akshu in now, it would undo everything she had been trying to teach them.
Discipline bhi zaroori h.
Lesson bhi zaroori h.
Galtiyon ko lightly nahi lena chahiye.
But then her eyes slid to Akshu again—
The girl’s lips were trembling lightly.
She dug her hands so deep into her blazer pockets as if she was trying to hide her shaking fingers.
Bela inhaled sharply.
Her resolve wavered again.
Yeh bacchi… itni ziddi hai… aur kitni fragile bhi.
A war raged inside her chest.
One side of her screamed:
“BULAO USSE. Thand lag jayegi.”
The other side whispered:
“Nahi. Maintain discipline. Ek baar soft ho gayi toh teeno phir seriously nahi lenge baat ko.”
And then—
The third voice.
The one only a guardian has.
“Unhe sudharna mera kaam h…
Par unki himmat bhi banana meri zimmedari h.”
Her fingers slowly curled around the chalk.
She made her decision.
Her eyes hardened again —
Mask sliding back into place.
She turned away from Akshu…
Placed the chalk on the board…
And said quietly, firmly:
“Open your textbooks.”
The class snapped to attention.
Khushi and Vanshu exchanged helpless looks —
Their chests sinking.
They understood.
Bela wanted to call Akshu inside.
They saw it.
Felt it.
But she stopped herself.
Because Bela wasn’t just teaching them subjects today—
She was teaching them discipline, responsibility, and consequence.
Even if it hurt her to do it.
Back outside
Akshu took a shaky breath as rain blew in through the corridor, stinging her cheeks.
She had seen Bela looking at her.
For a second… Akshu thought ma’am would call her inside.
Her heart had actually lifted with hope.
But then ma’am turned away.
Akshu lowered her head again…
Trying not to let the disappointment show.
Trying not to let the cold win.
Trying not to let her tears fall.
Because if Bela wanted her to stand…
She would stand.
No matter how cold.
No matter how hard.
The class was silent except for Bela’s voice and the faint drumming of rain outside.
But Bela wasn’t listening to her own words anymore.
Her eyes kept flicking—
Again and again—
Towards the classroom door.
Where Akshu stood.
Shrinking into herself.
Her shoulders trembling now, not subtly but visibly.
Her fingers stiff inside her blazer pockets.
Her lips losing color.
Her feet tapping lightly on the cold floor to stop the numbness.
It was no longer restlessness.
It was… cold taking over.
Bela’s grip on the chalk tightened.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Bas… bohot ho gaya.
Punishment apni jagah… bacchi ki haalat apni jagah.
She tried continuing the lesson—
One more line, one more explanation.
But her voice wavered.
Just for half a second.
That was enough.
She put the chalk down slowly, quietly.
Walked toward the door with calm, controlled steps—
The kind of calm that hid a storm underneath.
The entire class tracked her movements.
Khushi held her breath.
Vanshu’s fingers trembled around her pen.
Bela reached the door.
Opened it.
Cold air rushed in like a slap—but Bela didn’t flinch.
Her eyes softened—just a fraction—when she saw Akshu properly.
Akshu’s eyes widened.
A tiny, involuntary gasp escaped her.
She instantly straightened.
Before Akshu could speak, Bela’s voice came—
Not loud, not gentle—just firm, steady, unarguable.
Bela:
“Andar aa jaao.”
Akshu froze.
Her ego, her pride, her stubbornness—
All collided in her throat.
She blinked rapidly, trying to hide how relieved she felt.
Trying not to look weak in front of Bela.
But Bela already knew.
Everyone could see she was trembling.
Bela stepped slightly aside to let her in.
No softness.
No smile.
No sympathy written on her face.
Only authority.
Akshu quietly stepped into the classroom—
Avoiding looking at Bela, avoiding the class.
Bela shut the door behind her.
Then, without a pause, she pointed to a spot inside the class—
Right near the teacher’s desk, facing the wall.
Away from the students’ eyes.
Away from the whispers.
Away from humiliation.
Bela (calm, strict):
“Wahan jaa kar khadi ho jao.
Face the wall.”
Akshu’s breath hitched.
Her punishment wasn’t cancelled.
But Bela wasn’t letting her freeze outside either.
This… this was Bela’s way of giving compassion without hurting her ego.
Akshu walked to the spot silently, head down, hands still trembling.
But the warmth of the classroom already soothed her shivers.
She stood facing the wall—
Away from everyone’s gaze.
Safe.
Protected.
Yet still punished.
A perfect balance.
Behind her, Khushi and Vanshu exhaled in relief they didn’t even know they were holding.
Khushi whispered under her breath:
“Thank you, ma’am…”
Vanshu nodded, her eyes soft.
Bela returned to the board without another word.
Her expression unreadable again, her discipline locked back in place.
But only one person in that room knew—
She wasn’t heartless.
She was just… Bela.
Stone outside.
Softest inside.
AKSHU’S POV — FACING THE WALL
The wall was cold.
But not colder than what she’d felt outside.
Akshu stood stiff, hands clasped behind her back now, the last trace of shiver slowly leaving her fingers as the classroom warmth wrapped around her.
But her heart?
Still pounding.
Still a mess.
Why did she call me in?
Punishment toh wahi kaafi thi… mujhe freeze hone deti toh main seh leti…
Par…
She swallowed.
Her throat felt tight, but not from the cold anymore.
From something else.
Something she didn’t want to name.
She stared at the wall, trying to keep her breathing steady.
Her mind replayed that moment again—
The door opening.
Bela standing there.
Expression blank.
Eyes… not blank.
Eyes that noticed.
Eyes that cared, even when she didn’t show it.
Uff… yeh ma’am bhi na… Ekdum confusing h…
A tiny smile tugged at her lips before she caught herself and straightened again.
No…
She couldn’t smile.
She was still being punished.
Standing inside the class facing a wall—
Her pride was already bruised enough.
But compared to standing outside in the biting cold?
This felt like a gift.
Yet, that bothered her more.
Is it possible?
Ma’am ko… sach main laga?
Meri tabiyat kharab ho sakti thi?
Her cheeks warmed—not from embarrassment, not from blush—
from an uncomfortable truth:
Bela had noticed her.
Properly.
Completely.
More than she wanted to admit.
She clenched her jaw.
No. No. I won’t admit it. Mujhe toh unse gussa hona chahiye na… punishment diya, class ke bahar khada rakha…
Par… phir bhi…
Her heart whispered what her ego refused to accept:
“Thank you, ma’am.”
But she didn’t dare say it out loud.
She stood straighter.
Raised her chin a little.
Pretended she felt nothing.
But inside?
Her thoughts ran like wild currents—
Ma’am ko kaise pata chal gaya…
Itni strict hote hue bhi… mujhe andar khada kyu kiya?
Kyuuuu?
Then one final thought hit her—
Bela ma’am… chahe jitni strict ho na… par wo humesha protect hi karti h… chahe nazar ho ya na ho.
Her eyes softened against the wall.
For once…
Akshu didn’t mind the punishment.
Not even a little.
--
Bela continued teaching, her voice steady, crisp, perfectly controlled as always.
“—and this is why the character’s motivation changes in the second stanza. Everyone underline the line…”
Students bent over notebooks.
Pens scratched softly.
The only movement in the entire room was her pacing—calm, measured steps between the rows.
But even while teaching…
Her eyes were not entirely on the class.
Every few minutes—
very subtly, almost invisible to anyone else—
her gaze flicked toward the front corner.
Toward Akshu.
Standing straight.
Facing the wall.
Silent.
Still.
But no longer trembling.
Bela’s eyes softened for half a second.
No one noticed.
No one except Khushi, who had been stealing glances at ma’am all the while.
Khushi (thinking, shocked):
Ma’am… pareshaan lag rahi h? Par dikhne nahi degi… obviously.
Bela looked back at the class immediately, her expression slipping back into stone.
But inside?
Her thoughts were sharp.
Restless.
And full of something she didn’t have a name for.
This girl…
Zidd pe aa jati h har baat pe… Ego sky-high… aur upar se itni thick-headed…
Her gaze flicked to Akshu again, noticing how she kept shifting her weight from one leg to another carefully.
Par jitna bhi ho jab aise chup hoti h na… tab samajh aata h kitni chhoti h abhi… kitni jaldi hurt ho jaati h…
She exhaled quietly, steadying her voice before she addressed the class again.
Her eyes lingered on Akshu one more time—
A tiny flicker of worry.
A flicker only a guardian feels.
Then instantly—
her expression reset to normal.
Cold. Strict. Untouched.
“Khushi, next stanza. Read.”
Khushi jolted up, fumbling with her book, but Bela didn’t look away from her even as she read.
And yet…
The corner of her vision never left Akshu completely.
Because no matter how strict Bela was—
she noticed everything.
Every tremble.
Every discomfort.
Every unspoken struggle.
And today was no different.
After a few minutes :–
The bell rang.
TRRRRINGGG—
A sound that felt like oxygen rushing back into the room.
Students collectively exhaled, shoulders dropping, backs straightening only now that the danger period was officially over. Bela’s classes always did that to people—no shouting, no drama, yet the tension sat heavy till the very last second.
Bela closed her register calmly.
Picked up her pen.
Didn’t rush.
Didn’t say class dismissed loudly like other teachers.
Instead—
Her eyes lifted once more.
Straight to Akshu.
For a brief second.
Then she gave a small, controlled nod.
That was it.
No words.
But Akshu understood instantly.
Baith sakti ho.
Akshu moved back to her seat slowly, carefully, as if even sitting down might break something. The moment she sat, she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realised she was holding for the entire period.
Her hands were cold.
Her legs numb.
Her back sore.
But worse than the physical pain was the emotional weight—
standing there, facing the wall, feeling watched yet protected in the strangest way.
She leaned back slightly, eyes closing for just a second.
Bas… khatam ho gaya…
Khushi and Vanshu both turned to look at her at the same time.
Vanshu mouthed silently:
Theek ho?
Akshu gave a tiny nod.
Zinda hoon.
Before anyone could relax further—
Bela’s voice cut through the soft classroom noise.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just firm.
“Khushi.”
That’s it.
Just her name.
No sentence.
No instruction.
Yet it landed like a warning bell ringing directly inside Khushi’s chest.
Khushi’s spine straightened instantly.
Her fingers tightened around her notebook.
Her heart sank.
Staff room.
Radhika Ma’am.
Extra class.
Aur Bela Ma’am… saamne.
She didn’t look up.
She didn’t respond.
She didn’t need to.
Bela didn’t repeat herself either.
She simply walked out of the classroom, heels echoing softly in the corridor, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before.
Khushi swallowed hard.
Phir se wahi, uff…
Vanshu glanced at her with wide eyes, whispering urgently,
“Tum… theek toh ho na?”
Khushi forced a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Haan… bas maths ka satyanash hone ja raha hai.”
Akshu looked at her,
All the best madam…
The class slowly broke into noise again—bags opening, benches scraping, whispers returning—but for the trio, the day had already tightened its grip.
Akshu rubbed her arms, still cold.
Vanshu stared ahead, jaw tight.
And Khushi…
She picked up her books.
Stood up.
And walked toward the staff room—
She stood there.
Her hand hovered mid-air, inches away from the door handle.
Inside, muffled voices drifted out—papers shuffling, chairs scraping, the low hum of teachers discussing syllabi and deadlines. Normal. Routine.
Par mere liye… nahi.
Her stomach twisted.
The memory of Bela’s single word—“Khushi.”—still rang in her ears like a warning bell. Not loud. Not angry. Just… inevitable.
She inhaled slowly.
Chal beta. Bhaag ke bhi kahaan jaaogi.
Khushi knocked.
Once.
Softly.
“Come in,” came Bela’s voice from inside.
That was it.
Khushi pushed the door open.
---
INSIDE – STAFF ROOM
The room smelled faintly of chalk dust, coffee, and winter dampness.
A few teachers sat around their desks, immersed in registers and files. Some glanced up briefly, curiosity flickering in their eyes when they saw Khushi enter—then quickly looked away.
At the far end of the room—
Radhika Ma’am sat at her desk, glasses perched low on her nose, red pen in hand.
And beside her—
Bela.
Checking notebooks.
Expression unreadable.
Khushi’s throat went dry.
She walked in slowly, closing the door behind her with a soft click that sounded far too loud in her ears.
Bela didn’t say anything at first.
She gestured with her chin.
“Baitho.”
Khushi obeyed immediately, pulling out the chair opposite Radhika Ma’am and sitting down, posture straight, hands folded tightly in her lap.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Radhika Ma’am adjusted her glasses, opened the textbook, and without looking up, began in a flat, practised tone.
“Geometry… Chapter—Triangles. Aaj hum basic concepts revise karenge. Theorems samajhna zaroori hai, bina samjhe sirf yaad karna bekaar hota hai.”
She turned the book slightly and started drawing neat figures on a rough sheet.
Lines.
Angles.
Points marked A, B, C.
Khushi stared at the page.
At first, she tried.
She really did.
But within minutes, her brain started slipping.
Yaar yeh geometry kyun hai… kis liye hai…
Her eyes followed Radhika Ma’am’s pen, but her mind ran off in its own direction.
Nahi matlab… ek triangle jo already dikh raha hai ki triangle hai… usko prove kyun karu ki haan bhai yeh triangle hi hai? Aankhon se nahi dikh raha kya?
Radhika Ma’am continued calmly.
“Given that AB equals AC, we can say the triangle is isosceles…”
Khushi’s thoughts grew louder.
Aur yeh circle… circle hai, bas. Isme angle kyun ghusa diya? Theorem ghusa diye… kaunse theorem bhai? Kyu hai yeh? Kya karu main inka—achaar daalu?
She clenched her pen.
Practical life mein kaha use hota hai yeh? Dukaan pe saman lene jao toh addition, subtraction kaam aata hai. Waha thodi bolungi—‘Ruko bhaiya, pehle theorem lagati hoon’.
Radhika Ma’am’s voice floated on.
“If two sides of a triangle are equal, then the angles opposite to those sides are also equal…”
Khushi’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Seedhi-saadhi bechari lines ko intersection, bisection, angles ke beech fasa ke dimaag ka churan bana diya hai. Kuch mila nahi toh number aur alphabet ka rishta karwa diya—algebra. Phir bore ho gaye toh geometry bana di—jo hai use hi prove karo.
She sighed quietly, gaze unfocused now, staring past the notebook as if geometry itself had personally wronged her.
And that’s when—
A shadow fell across her page.
Khushi blinked.
Her wandering thoughts snapped back like a rubber band.
She looked up.
Bela.
Standing right beside her.
Silent.
Watching.
Khushi’s heart dropped straight to her stomach.
Bela didn’t scold.
Didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t even look angry.
She simply leaned slightly forward, one hand resting on the table, eyes fixed on Khushi’s half-open notebook and then—slowly—on her face.
Bela (quiet, razor-sharp): “Khushi.”
Just her name.
Nothing else.
Khushi stiffened instantly, spine straight, pen clutched like a lifeline.
“J-ji ma’am…”
Bela tilted her head a fraction, gaze steady.
“Samajh aa raha hai?”
Khushi opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Honesty won over fear.
“…nahi, ma’am.”
Radhika Ma’am paused mid-explanation and looked up.
Bela didn’t react immediately.
She studied Khushi for a second longer, as if weighing something invisible.
Then, very calmly—
Bela: “Accha. Toh yeh batao… problem samajh nahi aa rahi, ya mann nahi lag raha?”
That question hit harder than any scolding.
Khushi’s fingers tightened around the pen.
“…dono, ma’am,” she admitted softly.
A beat of silence.
Radhika Ma’am shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension.
Bela straightened, her tone still controlled but firm.
“Geometry pasand nahi hai, yeh mujhe pata hai,” she said. “Par ignore karne se problem solve nahi hoti. Aur class ke beech khud se ladna bhi padhai nahi hoti.”
Khushi lowered her gaze, guilt creeping back in.
Bela softened her voice—just a little.
“Tumhe prove karna pasand nahi hai na?”
Khushi nodded immediately.
“Ji. Bilkul bhi nahi.”
Bela nodded once.
“Thik hai.”
She turned to Radhika Ma’am.
“Ma’am, theorem skip karke ek basic question se shuru kar sakte hain? Step-by-step. Visual way mein.”
Radhika Ma’am blinked, surprised—but nodded.
“Haan… haan, theek hai.”
Bela looked back at Khushi.
“Tum sirf sunogi nahi,” she said quietly. “Tum bologi. Galat bhi hui toh bhi. Samjhi?”
Khushi swallowed, then nodded.
“Ji, ma’am.”
Bela tapped the notebook lightly—once.
“Focus.”
Not a threat.
A reminder.
Khushi straightened again, eyes back on the page.
Geometry still didn’t make sense.
Theorems still felt useless.
But with Bela standing right there—steady, watchful, unwilling to let her drift—
Khushi forced herself to stay.
Because now she knew—
This extra class wasn’t about maths.
It was about not running away.
Khushi bent over her notebook again, trying very hard to look sincere.
Radhika Ma’am drew another triangle.
Another.
Then another line inside it.
Khushi stared.
Yeh triangle bhi na…
Lagta hai Bela ma’am ke baad iska bhi koi personal agenda hai mere khilaaf.
Radhika Ma’am: “Ab dekho, agar yeh angle equal ho—”
Khushi (thinking): Dekho? Ma’am main dekh hi toh rahi hoon problem yahi hai. Samajh thodi aa raha hai.
Aur yeh angle itna seedha khada hai jaise mujhe challenge kar raha ho— ‘Haa beta, prove kar.’
She nodded automatically, like those dashboard dolls.
Behind her glasses, Bela noticed it instantly.
That haan-haan-nodding-with-zero-understanding face.
Bela (thinking, dry): Achha. Yeh wali acting chal rahi h.. Mai bohot se pehchaanti hoon.
Yeh “haan ma’am” nahi, yeh “please mujhe yahan se Jaane do” wala haan hai.
Khushi’s pen moved…
But instead of writing the steps, she drew a tiny angry face next to point A.
A = Angry.
B = Bewajah pareshaan.
C = Crying inside.
She almost smiled at her own joke.
Almost.
Because—
A shadow fell on the page again.
Khushi froze.
Slowly… very slowly… she turned her head.
Bela.
Eyebrow raised.
One single eyebrow.
No words.
Just the look.
Khushi (thinking, panicked): Oh no. Oh no. Oh NO.
Yeh look wahi hai… jo bolta hai— “beta tum zyada hi creative ho rahi ho.”
She immediately scribbled over the angry face, turning it into… a dot.
Khushi (too quickly): “Ma’am main likh rahi thi— bas diagram clear kar rahi thi.”
Bela didn’t respond.
She leaned a little closer, eyes scanning the page.
Bela (thinking, softer now): Iske expressions sab bol dete hain.
Maths se nafrat. Confusion. Aur upar se guilt— ki time waste kar rahi hoon.
She straightened and stepped back, but her voice dropped quietly near Khushi’s ear.
Bela: “Diagram se zyada dimaag use karo.”
Khushi nodded vigorously.
“Ji. Ji. Full dimaag.”
Jo bacha hi nahi hai, ma’am.
Radhika Ma’am continued explaining.
Khushi tried again.
Achha… agar do sides equal hain… toh opposite angles bhi equal…
Opposite matlab saamne wala… jaise mai aur maths. Opposite directions.
Her lips twitched.
Bela caught it.
Another glare.
This time sharper.
Khushi immediately wiped her expression into seriousness, eyes wide like an innocent child.
Khushi (thinking): Smile bhi crime ho gaya hai aaj toh.
Bela (thinking, helpless but controlled): Iski harkatein.. Aise hi maths karti rahi na... Fail ho jayegi.. Mann toh abhi yahi kheech ke lagane ka h.. saare theorems apne aap dimaag mai ghuss jayenge.. Par sabke saamne daantna bhi nhi chahti..
Na daantun toh yeh apne hi jokes mein kho jaayegi.
Balance, Bela. Balance.
She folded her arms again and stayed quiet.
Five minutes passed.
For Khushi, it felt like five centuries.
Radhika Ma’am: “Khushi, batao— is theorem ka use yahan kaise hoga?”
Khushi’s brain went blank.
White noise.
Static.
She stared at the triangle like it might whisper the answer.
Bol na bhai. Tu hi bol de. Main thak gayi hoon.
Silence stretched.
Bela’s gaze locked onto her.
Not angry.
Expectant.
Grounded.
Khushi swallowed.
“…Ma’am… mujhe exact theorem ka naam yaad nahi hai,” she admitted honestly, voice small,
“Par… agar sides equal hain… toh angles bhi equal honge… kyunki symmetry?”
Radhika Ma’am blinked.
Then nodded slowly.
“Haan… concept sahi hai.”
Khushi’s eyes widened.
WAIT— WHAT?
Yeh bhi acceptable answer hota hai?
She looked sideways—just a little.
Bela was watching her.
And this time—
No glare.
Just a tiny, almost invisible nod.
Bela (thinking): Bas. Yehi chahiye tha.
Perfect answer nahi.
Effort.
Khushi felt something loosen in her chest.
Maths still sucked.
Geometry was still pointless.
But at least—
For the first time—
She wasn’t drowning alone in it.
And Bela knew that.
She always did.
After few minutes ––
Bela was just about to turn another page of the register when the door opened again. A peon entered and stood at the doorway clearly he came here to give a message.
“Madam, aapko Principal sir bula rahe h office mai. Kaha kuch urgent h.. ”
Bela looked up instantly.
She glanced once at Khushi.
Not a warning.
Not reassurance either.
Just that unreadable, grounding look that said behave without saying the word.
Bela nodded.
“Hm.. Chalo.”
She straightened her blazer, picked up her file, and walked out—heels clicking softly against the floor.
The door closed behind her.
And just like that…
The room felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Khushi felt it immediately.
Her shoulders stiffened without her realizing it.
She looked back down at her notebook, trying to focus on the triangle drawn in front of her, but the lines suddenly felt sharper… harsher.
Radhika Ma’am adjusted her glasses and finally looked directly at Khushi.
Not angry.
Not kind either.
Measured.
Radhika (calm, almost conversational):
“Khushi… tumhe thoda aur mehnat karni chahiye.”
Khushi nodded faintly, eyes still on the page.
“Ji, Ma’am. I am trying.”
Radhika leaned back in her chair.
Radhika:
“Dekho, sirf Bela Ma’am pe ya apne doston pe dependent rehna sahi nahi hota.”
Khushi’s pen paused.
Radhika continued, voice smooth, controlled.
Radhika:
“Akshika aur Vanshika—jinhe tum sisters bolti ho—humesha tumhare saath nahi rahenge. Unki apni padhai hai, apna future hai.”
Khushi pressed her lips together.
Her grip on the pen tightened.
Radhika (matter-of-fact):
“Aur Bela Ma’am… jitni bhi strict ho, supportive ho—wo bhi har waqt tumhara haath pakad ke nahi chalengi. Teachers badalte rehte hain. Log aage badh jaate hain.”
Bas.
Khushi’s pen dug into the paper.
The nib pressed so hard that the page nearly tore.
Her jaw clenched.
Her first instinct—
Palat ke jawab dene ka.
Seedha bol dene ka.
“Aap jaanti bhi kya ho?”
“Aap samajhti bhi h?”
Her chest burned.
But then—
Bela’s voice echoed somewhere inside her mind.
“Limit cross mat karna, Khushi. Don’t repeat your mitakses.”
“Words ka weight samajhna.”
Khushi inhaled sharply.
Held herself back.
Radhika didn’t notice the internal war.
Or maybe… she did, and chose to ignore it.
She leaned forward now.
Radhika:
“Sach kahu toh… tumhe khud strong banna padega. Aaj nahi toh kal, tumhe akele hi ladna h. Abhi Bela tumhe guide kar rahi hain. Protect kar rahi hain. Par h amesha thodi na aisa rahega.”
Khushi’s eyes flickered.
Her mind drifted—unwanted, uninvited.
Akshu… Vanshu…
Their laughter.
Their bickering.
Their stupid jokes at 5 a.m.
Radhika’s voice cut through again.
Radhika:
“Tumhare parents ne bhi padhai ke liye jo tumhe door bhej diya h na.. Unhe bhi laga hoga tum handle nhi kar paogi... ”
Khushi swallowed.
Something tightened in her chest.
Radhika (final, almost casually cruel line):
“Ek din Akshika aur Vanshika bhi apni life mein busy ho jayengi. Careers, families… aur tum?”
She shrugged lightly.
Radhika:
“Tumhe khud sambhalna padega. Yaad rakhna—koi hamesha saath nahi rehta.”
That was it.
That line didn’t sting.
It broke something.
Khushi’s eyes burned instantly blurred for a second.
Not tears—
she wouldn’t allow that.
But that hollow ache…
As if someone had reached inside her chest and pressed exactly where it hurt the most.
She stared at the triangle on the page.
The lines trembled—not because the diagram was wrong—
…but because her hands were.
She forced her voice out, steady but low.
Khushi:
“…Ji, ma’am.”
Nothing more.
No argument.
No protest.
Inside her head, thoughts clashed violently—
They won’t leave me.
Akshu-Vanshu aise nahi hai.
Bela ma’am aisi nahi hai. Unhone khud hume support karne ka decision liya h.
But doubt is cruel.
It doesn’t need logic.
It just needs one sentence.
And Radhika had delivered it perfectly.
Khushi bent her head lower, pretending to re-read the theorem.
But the words swam.
Triangle.
Angle.
Prove.
Kaash zindagi ke rishte bhi theorem jaise prove ho jaate, she thought bitterly.
Ek line likho… aur sach ho jaaye.
She blinked once.
Twice.
Straightened her spine.
She would not cry.
Not here.
Not now.
The door outside creaked faintly—
Footsteps.
Khushi’s heart skipped, hoping—
But Bela hadn’t returned yet.
And Khushi sat there…
Quiet.
Composed.
With a storm raging silently inside her chest.
- - -
To be continued in the next part..
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