For a brief moment, the classroom exhaled.
The sharp tension that had wrapped around the students like a vice loosened as Mrs. Nair busied herself at the front desk, arranging quiz papers into neat stacks. The chatter had died down, the pre-inspection frenzy settling into a hushed expectancy.
Aarav Sen took this as his cue to sink deeper into his chair, arms draped lazily over the backrest, eyes half-lidded in practiced disinterest.
Beside him, Kunal leaned in.
"I bet Rathore's got model answers memorized in alphabetical order," he whispered, his grin infectious.
Aarav snorted, grateful for the slice of normalcy. "She probably dreams in multiple-choice."
Kunal stifled a laugh, glancing at the front to ensure Mrs. Nair hadn't heard.
For a fleeting second, Aarav felt anchored.
But the moment was short-lived.
From the far side of the classroom, a faint whisper slithered into his ears.
"Did you see Sen earlier? Acting like he owns the place."
Another voice, softer but clearer than it had any right to be, followed.
"Rathore's going to put him in his place soon enough."
The whispers weren't loud. They weren't even directed towards him.
But they reached him with an unnatural clarity, as if the distance between their desks had collapsed.
Aarav stiffened slightly, though he masked it with a slow, deliberate stretch.
More layers of sound bled into his consciousness.
The soft scrape of a pen cap twisting open.
The rhythmic tapping of fingers against a wooden desk.
The shuffle of papers as Mrs. Nair sorted through quiz sheets.
The faint hum of the corridor tube lights.
It was all too sharp. Too intrusive.
His breathing quickened, not enough to be noticed, but enough for him to feel the shift.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to dull the sensory intrusion.
Kunal, oblivious, leaned in again.
"When do you think they'll call us up for inspection drills? Before or after lunch?"
Aarav opened his eyes, forcing a smirk.
"Hopefully never. They might realize we're beyond saving."
But his tone lacked its usual bite.
The whispers persisted.
Another group of students, this time from the back benches, were murmuring about the quiz, speculating on which questions would trip them up. Their words overlapped, creating an auditory mesh that wrapped around Aarav's head like a vice.
He clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming against the desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm to anchor himself.
But his body wasn't cooperating.
His muscles were tensing, not out of anxiety, but as if calibrating themselves against the sensory assault.
Every sound in the room became a thread, tugging at his focus.
The rustle of Anaya flipping through her notebook.
The subtle shift of Kunal adjusting his seat.
Even Mrs. Nair's shallow breaths as she prepared to address the class.
It was overwhelming.
He rubbed his temples, feigning disinterest, but his mind was racing, cataloging every micro-detail against his will.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Anaya glancing back.
Her expression wasn't annoyed.
It was assessing.
To her, Aarav's fidgeting probably appeared as another act of laziness, another attempt to disengage from responsibility.
He met her gaze with a crooked smirk, lifting his eyebrows in mock defiance.
Anaya's lips pressed into a thin line as she turned back, her focus returning to her pristine notebook.
Kunal, sensing the exchange, nudged Aarav with his elbow.
"Rathore's glare could melt steel today," he quipped.
Aarav forced a chuckle, grateful for the interruption.
Kunal always had a way of dragging him back from the edge.
"Good thing I'm made of better stuff," Aarav replied, though his mind was still battling the layered sounds assaulting his senses.
He shifted in his seat, adjusting his grip on the edge of the desk.
The plastic edge felt rougher than it should, every groove and scratch magnified beneath his fingertips.
The classroom felt smaller now, as if the walls had shifted inward, compressing the space, amplifying every creak of a chair, every shuffle of paper.
He inhaled slowly, syncing his breath to Mrs. Nair's footsteps as she began pacing the aisle, preparing to distribute the quiz sheets.
The rhythmic pattern helped.
For a moment, the sensory flood ebbed, dulled into a manageable hum.
Kunal leaned back, grinning.
"So, Sen, are we aiming for a pass today or just enough to confuse them?"
Aarav smirked. "Let's aim for survivable disgrace."
Mrs. Nair approached their row, her heels clicking against the tiled floor, marking the end of Aarav's brief respite.
The quiz sheets were now in her hands.
And despite the suffocating overload, Aarav felt his mind sharpen, an eerie clarity settling in as his focus shifted from fighting his senses to navigating the challenge ahead.
His fingers, still twitching slightly, curled into a fist beneath the desk.
He wasn't going to let the noise win.
Not today.
The classroom returned to its deceptive silence as Mrs. Nair began handing out the papers.
But beneath the surface, Aarav Sen was preparing for a battle of a different kind.
And the war drums were the whispers he couldn't unhear.