Mahir point of view
The first time I saw her, she was clumsily climbing a wall behind the school building—sweat dripping down her neck, strands of hair escaping a high ponytail, her uniform slightly untucked. Nothing about her looked ordinary.
She wasn't the kind of girl I wanted to be around.
And then came that voice.
"Hey, handsome! Where are you going?"
I froze. Who talks like that to a stranger? My gut instinct screamed: Stay away from her. So I ignored her.
When I entered the school building later that day, I caught a glimpse of her again—laughing, loud, and completely comfortable being the center of attention. The way she spoke to her teacher —no hesitation, no respect—I knew instantly she was the type I couldn't stand.
I prayed silently, Ya Allah(O God), just don't let me end up in her class.
But fate had its own ideas.
When Sir Hashim introduced me to my new classmates, there she was—front and center. Her eyes met mine with a mischievous gleam, and I knew then this year wouldn't be as peaceful as I hoped. When she turned and muttered a threat toward me, I felt three other gazes land on me like shadows. Her friends. They clearly had her back.
That night, back home, I kept thinking about her. Why did she bother me so much? What was it about her that felt so… intrusive?
Dado was in the kitchen making tea when I walked in.
"How was your first day, beta?" she asked.
I shrugged, keeping my voice flat. "It was okay."
She touched my face gently, smiling. "You'll enjoy Pakistan. I'll even ask Biya to be your friend."
"No need," I said coldly. "I don't need anyone's friendship. I just want to get through this year quietly. That's it." Then I turned away and disappeared into my room.
⸻
The next day, as I stepped into school, there she was again—blocking my way like a bad omen.
And of course, she had to bully me. Loudly. Casually.
I kept my cool. I had promised myself I wouldn't get dragged into drama. But this girl… this girl was something else. Shameless, bold, with three wealthy friends orbiting around her like she was the sun. And she knew how to use them.
Still, something kept pulling my attention back to her.
Whenever I saw Urhaan trying to make her laugh, it annoyed me more than it should have. She wasn't even interested in him, yet he followed her around like a fool. And she—she called him her brother. Brother? Really?
Zaki hovered around Mishal with soft eyes and long sighs. At least that made some sense. Mishal, unlike the rest, came across as intelligent. Mature. Grounded.
But Anabiya?
Nope. I didn't like her one bit.
And yet… I noticed everything she did.
________
Urhaan's prank—tying a rope across the doorway—was childish. I knew instantly they were behind it. And when Sir Hashim fell instead of me, I almost laughed… until I saw Anabiya's face.
She wasn't laughing. She looked shaken. Scared.Why did that bother me?
I thought she would finally stop after disgracing herself like that, but to drag me even lower, she went as far as breaking my chair. That was the moment my patience shattered—I couldn't hold it in any longer. I hated that she could still look innocent after all the chaos she created. When we stood in the staffroom facing Sir Hashim's disappointment, a strange memory stirred—someone's face. Soft, sad, fragile. My mother's?
I pushed it away.
Her fake innocence made me angrier.
Was she really fooling everyone? Or just herself?
Later that day, as I wiped down the classroom chairs alone—my punishment—I found myself thinking about her again. Her smile irritated me. It felt fake. Her eyes never smiled with her lips.
She pretended to be okay.They all did.
Her and her little group of four, always laughing, always finding a way to survive like nothing had ever gone wrong in their lives. Like their world was untouched by pain. Were they really that happy? Or just better at hiding it?
When they finally left, I stared at the broken chair again. Something clicked.
She hadn't done it.She was telling the truth.
The guilt hit hard. I realized maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn't just a noisy girl with no respect. Maybe… she was hurting too.
That evening, as I sat in bed, the sky outside turning gold and soft, I felt uneasy. I'd lost my temper with my dad on the phone. Thought about my mother. And then her—the girl on the wall. It was too much.
The next day, I entered the classroom slowly, expecting the usual chaos. Instead, I saw them—Anabiya, Mishal and Urhaan—smiling calmly, like the past didn't exist.
Zaki walked in, greeted warmly. Like nothing had happened.
I wondered How could their lives be this perfect?
I started feeling jealous. Not of their friendship… but of the peace they had in each other. Like they carried each other's pain silently. Like they healed together.
And in that moment, I wanted to be part of them.
Even if I still didn't like that girl.