Let me paint a picture for you: 10 teenagers, 1 teacher with zero fear of losing his mind, benches that creak more than our motivation, and Wi-Fi that only works when you don’t need it.
I walked into class exactly seven minutes late.
Sir was already standing with Suhail beside him, flipping through notes.
“Why did you come late today?” Suhail asked suddenly.
EXCUSE ME?
Did he just speak to me?
Me?
The girl who turns into a statue when he walks by?
I blinked.
“…Traffic jam in the brain, I guess,” I mumbled and practically sprinted to my seat before I combusted like a science experiment gone wrong.
Jumana immediately smacked my arm. “Did he just talk to you?”
“I think so,” I whispered. “Or I hallucinated again.”
Devitha leaned in with a smirk. “Bro. The way your eyes widened—like a WiFi signal finally found a tower.”
---
Now back to the chaos.
Sinan had brought his emotional support tiffin box again and was sneakily opening it under the desk.
Sir: “What is that smell? Are we cooking mutton curry in class now?”
Sinan (innocently): “Sir, it’s just chicken biriyani.”
Sir: “Just chicken biriyani? This is tuition, not Taste Atlas.”
Rayyan added, “Sir, Sinan is preparing for MasterChef.”
Sir: “Then cook your Maths answers too!”
We were all crying. Crying from laughter. Especially Devitha, who had gone full-on pig-mode laugh by this point. Her head was on the table, shoulders shaking like a washing machine in spin cycle.
Emmanuel whispered, “Someone call pest control, she’s turning into a wild boar again.”
Devitha: “I heard that.”
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Jumana was busy deleting all the BTS reels I tried to airdrop her.
“Stop trying to convert me,” she said.
“But Jungkook is basically art,” I whined.
“And I only like maths and memes.”
“You have no soul.”
“Your soul belongs to Suhail, shut up.”
I almost flipped my table.
---
Then came sir’s iconic moment of the day.
Sir: “Today we’re doing a test.”
Everyone: groans
Sir: “Smile! It’s not a blood test. Yet.”
He handed us five problems that looked like they were created to ruin happiness. I stared at the first question like it had personally insulted my intelligence.
Jumana peeked at my paper and whispered, “Why did you write ‘Suhail’ instead of ‘solution’?”
I panicked and tried to erase it with my fingernail because my eraser had been stolen… by Sinan, two weeks ago.
Sinan, watching from across the bench, proudly waved my eraser at me like he was holding a victory flag.
---
Post-test chaos:
Sir noticed Emmanuel trying to connect to the WiFi.
Sir: “Planning to watch a movie or solve algebra?”
Emmanuel: “Sir, notes PDF.”
Sir: “You’ll get a K-drama PDF if you keep using that phone!”
---
After the test, sir made us all sit through one of his classic 5-minute “motivational speeches” that somehow ended with this:
“Even if you fail in Maths, you can succeed in marriage. But if you fail in both, then only Jesus can save you.”
---
When class finally ended, we started packing up. That’s when he passed by.
Suhail.
He was walking out with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, but right as he crossed our row—
—he looked straight at me.
For half a second.
Just a glance. A flicker.
But my brain went:
💥💘🔊 “EMERGENCY! CODE RED! SUHAIL HAS MADE EYE CONTACT!” 🔊💘💥
And the worst part?
I almost tripped over my own bag while trying to act normal. 🙃
---
As we walked out, sir stood at the doorway and called out, “Come Wednesday—no biriyani, no late entry, and definitely no romance!”
I swear he looked at me when he said that.
My friends howled.
Jumana: “You’re done for, lover girl.”
Sinan: “Should we make wedding invites now or after the board exams?”
Devitha: “Let’s put Suhail’s face on a cake and eat it on Friday!”
Me: “Please delete yourselves.”
---
And just like that, another day passed… full of madness, food crimes, laughter… and one tiny, precious look.
One day, I’d tell this story with pride.
But for now, I just wanted Wednesday to come faster.
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