Her lungs were officially on strike. She stood doubled over beside the rumbling bus, hands braced against her knees, wheezing as if she'd just sprinted across the continent.
In reality, it was only six blocks, but with the weight of her bag and the crushing realization that she was late, it might as well have been a marathon.
Around her, the morning was a picture of organized chaos. Students were boarding with high-pitched chatter, and teachers were settling into their seats with coffee in hand. Everyone was composed. Everyone was ready.
Except her. Her hijab was lopsided, her bag was slipping off her shoulder, and she was fairly certain she'd left the last of her dignity back at the school gate.
"Are you okay?"
She didn't need to look up. Her soul recognized that voice long before her brain did.
Slowly—painfully slowly—she straightened her spine and forced her breathing to resemble something human.
Mr. Fares stood before her, hands tucked into his pockets. He wore a soft, amused smile that made her want to find the nearest bush and live there permanently.
"Rough morning?" he asked gently.
She nodded twice, her voice a raspy thread. "Very rough."
"You ran all the way?" He glanced toward the gate, then back at her disheveled state. "That's a long way to sprint."
"I'm fine," she insisted, though her face was likely the color of a ripe tomato.
He laughed, a low, melodic sound. "You don't look fine."
She shot him a look that was meant to be intimidating but probably just looked like a plea for mercy. "I am fine. Totally fine. Very fine."
He raised an expectant eyebrow. "If you say the word 'fine' one more time, teach, I'm calling the school nurse."
Her jaw dropped. Was he teasing her? She immediately regretted every breath she had taken in his presence. "I overslept," she blurted out, the truth escaping before she could stop it.
He nodded slowly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I figured."
The heat in her face intensified. He had this infuriating way of summoning chaos out of her without even trying.
"Did they tell you that you're chaperoning with me today?" he asked, his tone shifting to something more casual.
"Yes." One word. Safe. Controlled.
"Is that okay?" he asked softly.
Her brain screamed: No! Absolutely not! I am terrified of you because I like you and my only defense mechanism is being accidentally rude! Her mouth, however, betrayed her: "Yeah. Totally. Fine."
His lips twitched. "Fine?"
"Don't start," she warned, pointing a finger at him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling as he reached out and took her heavy bag from her shoulder before she could protest.
"I can carry that," she stammered.
"I know you can," he said, stepping onto the bus to place it in the front seat. "But you look like you're on the verge of a structural collapse. Let's not lose a teacher before we even reach the zoo."
The bus ride was a blur of high-energy children and the uncomfortable proximity of Mr. Fares. He hadn't sat across the aisle or behind her. He sat next to her.
"Is this seat taken?" he had asked.
"Yes," she'd snapped instinctively, before her brain caught up. "I mean—no. No, it's free. Sit. Or don't. I don't care. Why are you sitting here?"
He had just laughed quietly, settling into the plastic seat. "Because we're partners for the trip. It makes sense to stay close plus there's no more seats available, so please bare with me."
"Oh...oh okay" she said as she tried so hard to calm herself so he couldn't hear her ponding heart.
Ya Allah! Why!
By the time they reached the zoo, the sun was high and the air was buzzing with the scent of popcorn and excitement.
She spent the next three hours in a whirlwind of activity—lining up students, taking group photos, and answering the same question about zebra diets twenty-seven times.
"Miss Azra, if I eat the zebra's grass, will I turn into one?" a small boy asked, staring at her with wide eyes.
She stared back, her patience hanging by a thread. "No. Please don't."
Through the madness, she watched Fares. He was a natural. He spent ten minutes patiently re-tying a first-grader's shoelaces and later hoisted a crying toddler onto his shoulders so the boy could see the giraffes. She hated how much it warmed her heart.
When they finally broke for lunch under a sprawling acacia tree, she collapsed onto a bench and unzipped her lunch box.
She froze.
Inside was a pack of gummy bears, two chocolate bars, and a soggy PB&J sandwich.
"Oh no," she whispered, horrified. "I grabbed the wrong bag"
Fares, sitting beside her, leaned over to peek. "That's… an interesting nutritional strategy, teach."
"Don't start," she muttered, staring miserably at the peanut butter.
"Here." He held out half of a neatly wrapped, gourmet-looking sandwich. "Take it. You ran a 5K this morning; you need real fuel."
She hesitated, her pride warring with her hunger. "I can't take your food—"
"Just take it," he insisted. As she reached out, their fingers brushed—a brief, electric contact that made her heart malfunction. She pulled back quickly, taking a bite to hide her flaming cheeks. Her eyes widened. It was incredible—pesto, roasted chicken, and sun-dried tomatoes.
"Oh wow," she said before she could stop herself. "This is actually delicious."
He leaned back, looking smug. "Of course it is. I made it myself."
She rolled her eyes, though her mouth was still full. "Oh, so you're a chef now?"
"I have many talents," he bragged casually, a playful glint in his eyes. "Cooking just happens to be one of the top three."
"And what are the other two? Teasing people and being annoying?"
He chuckled. "I'd say 'patience' and 'PE,' but those work too."
The lighthearted mood shattered in an instant. A few yards away, a young boy began to cough—a sharp, barking sound. Then, he dropped his sandwich and fell to his knees, clutching his throat.
The scream of a nearby student acted like a starter pistol. Chaos erupted, but for the first time that day, the daughter-instinct in her took over. She stood so fast her bag hit the dirt.
"What happened?" she demanded, reaching the boy in seconds.
"I—I gave him my snacks," a little girl sobbed.
"He said he liked nuts!"
Anaphylaxis.
Her mind clicked into a cold, sharp gear. She remembered the file. She remembered his mother's frantic voice at the conference.
"Where is his backpack?" she shouted.
Fares was already there, lifting the boy. "Here!"
She lunged for the bag, her hands moving with a precision she didn't know she possessed.
She tore through sweaters and notebooks until her fingers closed around the plastic tube. She yanked the cap off and, without a second of hesitation, jammed the EpiPen into the boy's thigh.
A few agonizing seconds passed. The boy gasped, his chest heaving as air finally found its way back into his lungs. He coughed violently, and then, he breathed.
She held his face between her hands, her voice steady and low. "You're okay. Just breathe for me, sweetheart. You're doing so well."
She stayed with him, then turned her attention to the sobbing children around them. She moved from child to child, wiping tears and offering quiet reassurances until the panic subsided into a dull hum.
Only when the school nurse arrived to take over did she realize her own hands were shaking.
She stepped away, finding a quiet spot behind a tree. She lowered herself into a seated prayer, grounding herself, her heart overflowing with a silent, shaking gratitude to Allah for that split-second memory.
The ride back was quiet. The children were exhausted, many of them sleeping against the windows. The silence on the bus was heavy, but not uncomfortable.
"How did you know?" Fares asked after a long time. His voice was stripped of its usual playfulness; he sounded genuinely awestruck. "The EpiPen. The file. Most people would have panicked."
She stared out at the passing trees, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. "His mother told me once. I make it a habit to memorize the 'emergency' section of every student's file. It's… a first-born thing, I guess. You're always waiting for something to go wrong so you can fix it."
He turned in his seat to look at her fully. "You saved him. If it had been me… I would have been looking for a phone to call for help. You didn't hesitate."
"I just did what I had to do," she murmured, feeling the heat rise in her neck again.
"No," he said firmly, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate register. "You did everything. You looked after the kids, you looked after me, and you didn't let anyone fall apart. You're a lot tougher than you let on, Azra."
She didn't know how to respond. The "First-born Daughter" in her was used to being the one who took care of others, but she wasn't used to being seen doing it. She wasn't used to someone noticing the weight she carried.
She looked out the window, a small, tired smile finally touching her lips. For the first time all day, she didn't feel like a stray cat or a clumsy teacher. She felt… understood.
"Next time," she whispered, "make sure you bring two of those sandwiches."
He laughed, the sound warm and familiar in the quiet bus. "Deal."