Miss, he stole my pencil again!"
"Neha Khan" stood in the middle of the classroom, fists clenched, cheeks puffed in pure rage. Her neatly tied braid bounced as she pointed at the boy sitting two benches behind her the one with the most irritating smirk in the entire classroom.
"Riyan Sheikh"...
The devil in human form.
Her forever enemy since the first day of school.
He leaned back in his chair, casually spinning the pink glittery pencil in his hand "her pencil" like it was some kind of trophy.
"I didn't steal it," he said innocently. "I was just… borrowing it forever."
The class erupted in giggles. Neha rolled her eyes so hard, they could've popped out.
"Miss, see!! He's doing it again! Yesterday it was my eraser, before that my lunch, and now" she marched toward his bench and snatched the pencil, "MY pencil."
Riyan just grinned, completely unfazed. "You look cute when you're mad, Miss khan."
Her brain short-circuited for a second.
"What?" she blinked, cheeks turning a shade of betrayal pink.
"Nothing," he said with a wink.
Ughhh. He was impossible.
He lived to annoy her, confuse her, and casually throw in the weirdest compliments that made no sense.
They weren't friends.
They were classroom rivals, always arguing over silly things from who drew better in art class to who reached assembly first.
But behind the constant bickering, there was always something... different.
Something that even little Neha couldn't name.
Maybe it was the way he always found her pencil no matter where she lost it.
Maybe it was the way he never let anyone else tease her only he had that right.
Or maybe it was how he looked at her like she was more than just a fight waiting to happen.
She didn't know it then.
But those silly fights were the beginning of something the universe had already started writing a tangled story of unseen strings.
The classroom buzzed with the low hum of students chit-chatting, paper rustling, and the chalk squeaking across the blackboard. It was just another Tuesday morning until Neha stood up from her seat with pure fury blazing in her eyes.
"MISS! Riyan stole my pencil again!"
Her voice cut through the room like lightning. Half the class turned to watch. The other half was already giggling, waiting for the daily drama to begin.
She marched down the aisle, her little black school shoes tapping loudly against the floor, her brows furrowed like a cartoon character seconds away from exploding.
Riyan, sitting two benches behind her, leaned back with the casual confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
He twirled the pink glittery pencil between his fingers like a magician showing off his newest trick.
"I didn't steal it," he said smoothly. "It just happened to land in my bag. By fate."
"Fate your face, Riyan!" Neha snapped, yanking the pencil from his hand. "That was gifted by my papa! If you touch it one more time, I swear—"
"You'll cry?" he interrupted with a smirk.
Her mouth dropped open. "NO! I'll punch you in your nose!"
The class gasped.
He blinked dramatically and placed a hand over his heart. "Ouch. Violence is not the answer, Miss Khan."
"I have better answers than you in class. That's why you steal my stuff!" she said, turning around with a victorious glare.
"Oh please," Riyan scoffed. "Your handwriting looks like ants dancing on the page."
She turned again, pointing a finger. "At least it's not like your brain "EMPTY!"
The whole class burst out laughing, including their teacher who struggled to hide her smile.
And yet, in that moment, Riyan looked at her not the way a rival would…
but with that mischievous softness in his eyes, like annoying her was his favorite hobby in the whole world.
As Neha walked back to her seat, flipping her braid dramatically, he whispered under his breath.
"You're fun when you're angry."
She didn't hear it.
But maybe her heart did just a little.
Fifth period. Hindi class.
The entire class groaned as Hindi Ma'am walked in with her classic no nonsense expression and a bundle of textbooks in hand.
Everyone knew what was coming.
"Today we'll do paired reading," she announced. "Girl boy pairs. Sit properly."
Groans turned into chaos.
Benches squeaked. Protests rose. And then…
"Neha and Riyan. Pair."
Dead silence.
Neha's eyes widened. Her soul left her body for two seconds.
"Miss… please no," she tried, almost pleading.
But Riyan?
He was already on his feet, that devilish grin spreading like wildfire.
"Coming, Miss Khan," he said dramatically, plopping into the seat beside her like he belonged there.
Neha clenched her jaw. "Don't call me that."
"But I like it," he smirked. "Miss Khan. Sounds like you're some mafia queen or something."
"I'm not," she said coldly, turning her face away.
"Well, you act like one," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. "From now onwards I'll call you the Miss Khan only."
She turned to him sharply, clearly irritated. "You don't have any right to give me nicknames, okay? I don't even like them."
"But this one suits you," he said with a half shrug. "You get angry like you'll throw chalk at someone."
She stared at him, expression flat. "Maybe I should throw it at you first."
He chuckled, completely unbothered.
Neha, meanwhile, could feel the heat rising to her cheeks from anger. Definitely anger. Right?
She turned away, trying to focus on the textbook, but her mind kept screaming:
Why does he talk like that? Why does he smile like that? And why the hell I'm blushing??
They both opened their textbooks or atleast Neha did.
Riyan leaned back like he had all the time in the world, flipping through pages without reading a single word.
She finally gave him a look. "Aren't you supposed to read?"
"I am," he said, still staring at her. "But first… do you know that song from that movie... umm… 'Tera hone laga hoon'?"
She blinked. "What?! This is Hindi class, not Antakshari!"
He grinned. "No but seriously… 'Tera hone laga hoon… jab se mila hoon…'"
He even sang it softly, right next to her ear.
"RIYAN!" she whisper shouted. " Tumne yeh song suna hai..??"
In confusion he asked,
"Konsa wala..??"
She sarcasticly sings,
"Thapad marungi tha-tha thapad marungi sala thapad marungi..??"
By grinnting his teeths,
"Aww main toh darr gaya..!!"
After a pause of 5-minutes he continues again.
"Okay okay," he said, holding back a laugh. "Then tell me... do you know 'Pee Loon'?"
She looked at him like he was insane. "Do I look like a jukebox to you?"
"Honestly?" He tilted his head. "A very pretty one."
She blinked. Froze.
And then quickly slapped the textbook shut. "I'm going to change my pair."
"Nooo Miss Khan!" he whined dramatically. "Don't leave me alone in this cruel world!"
"I'll leave you in another world if you don't shut up."
He laughed that full, carefree laugh that always made her chest tighten in the weirdest way.
Neha tried hard to stay angry, to focus on the chapter about Kabir ke dohe... but his presence, his voice, that stupid nickname it all stayed in her head louder than any Hindi poem ever could.
As the class continued, Hindi Ma'am walked around, checking each pair's progress. Neha tried hard to focus, scribbling notes quickly in her notebook still fuming from Riyan's "Miss Khan" nonsense.
"Riyan stop singing in your head and read the damn paragraph!" she hissed without looking at him.
"I would," he said casually, "but you're too distracting."
Before she could react, their teacher arrived at their bench.
"Neha, Riyan read the first stanza for me," she instructed, looking down at their open books.
Neha froze.
Her notes were a mess, lines half-written, the stanza half-underlined. In her frustration, she hadn't even noticed she'd written one of the couplets… wrong.
"Neha?" the teacher repeated, her voice sharp.
Riyan glanced down, noticed the mistake instantly and without a beat, leaned forward with a fake-innocent tone.
"Ma'am, actually I told her to write it that way," he said smoothly. "I got confused and gave her the wrong line. She had it right at first."
Neha's eyes widened. What the—
The teacher frowned at him. "Then you better correct your confusion before tomorrow's test. Neha, erase and fix it."
She nodded slowly, still stunned.
As Ma'am walked away, Neha whispered, "Why did you do that?"
He leaned back with that same smirk softer this time. "I felt bad for teasing you. A little. Don't get used to it."
"You're weird," she muttered, erasing the line quietly.
He chuckled. "And you're always fun to save."
And just like that the boy who drove her mad also became the boy who had her back, even if she refused to admit it.
As the final bell rang, Neha packed her bag in a hurry, refusing to glance at the boy still lounging beside her like he owned the whole bench.
"See you tomorrow, Miss Khan," he said with a half-smile.
She rolled her eyes but didn't say anything this time.
Walking home that day, her steps were fast, but her mind lagged behind.
She couldn't stop thinking about it the way he took the blame, the way he smiled like he meant it, the way he said her nickname like it belonged to her.
No. No. No.
She shook her head, scolding her heart like it was a naughty kid.
He's Riyan. The same annoying, teasing, irritating boy who once put chewing gum on her seat in second grade.
He's not sweet. He's not thoughtful. He's a menace in school uniform.
And yet...
Her cheeks burned again.
She clutched he
r notebook tighter, eyes on the road, mind on the boy who lived rent-free in her head.
"He's so annoying... then why did that little smile make me forget I was angry?"
She didn't have an answer.
To be continued...