CHAPTER 3
1090 Words
Aizal quietly stepped into her room and gently closed the door behind her.
The soft click of the lock echoed through the silence. She rested against the door for a brief moment, closed her eyes, and drew in a slow breath before making her way to the bed.
Sitting down, she adjusted the dupatta over her shoulder and lifted the phone back to her ear.
"Amna?" she asked softly. "You've been quiet for a while. Is everything alright?"
For several long seconds, there was no reply.
When Amna finally spoke, the warmth had vanished from her usually cheerful voice.
"Aizal... something happened today."
Aizal straightened immediately.
"What happened?"
"I don't think I can explain it properly over the phone."
"You know you can tell me anything," Aizal said.
"I know... but I need to see you tomorrow."
Aizal's brows drew together.
"You sound frightened."
"I am."
The quiet reply tightened something in Aizal's chest.
"What happened at school?"
Amna hesitated again.
"I'll tell you tomorrow morning. Please come a little early."
"I will. But at least tell me if you're safe," Aizal replied.
"I'm home now," Amna said.
"And your parents?" Aizal asked.
"They don't know anything," Amna replied.
"Do you want me to come over?"
"No."
"Are you sure?" Aizal asked, unable to hide the worry in her voice.
"Yes."
Aizal fell silent for a moment before speaking gently.
"Whatever it is, you don't have to face it alone."
Amna's breathing gradually became steadier.
"I knew you'd say that."
A faint smile touched Aizal's lips.
"Because it's true."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"In shaa Allah."
The call ended.
Aizal slowly placed her phone on the bedside table. Instead of lying down, she remained seated, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Her mind searched for answers.
Had something happened to a student?
A parent?
A teacher?
One possibility after another crossed her mind, yet none of them matched the fear she had heard in Amna's voice.
After a while, she stood, performed her nightly supplications, and raised her hands in dua.
"O Allah, protect us from every form of injustice. Grant us wisdom and patience."
As she lowered her hands, a quiet sense of peace settled over her heart.
She switched off the lamp and slipped beneath the blanket.
Sleep claimed her within minutes.
The melodious call to Fajr awakened her before sunrise.
She opened her eyes and quietly thanked Allah for blessing her with another day. After performing wudu, she stood before her Lord and offered Fajr Salah with complete concentration.
When the prayer ended, she remained on the prayer mat for a few more minutes, making dua for her parents, for Amna, and for everyone carrying burdens that no one else could see.Downstairs, the comforting aroma of breakfast welcomed her.
Mrs. Hashmi smiled as Aizal entered the dining room.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Mama."
Mr. Hashmi folded the newspaper and looked at her with a warmly smile.
"You're early today."
"I have to reach school before assembly," Aizal replied calmly.
Mrs. Hashmi placed a warm paratha on her plate.
"Everything alright?"
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation, yet something about her expression made both of her parents exchange a brief glance.
They sensed she was distracted but chose not to ask any more questions.
Breakfast passed peacefully.
Before leaving, Aizal hugged her mother and wished both her parents a good day.
The drive to school felt longer than usual.
Students streamed through the main gate, laughing, chatting, and hurrying toward their classrooms.
Teachers greeted one another in the corridors as another ordinary school day began.
But to Aizal, nothing about the morning felt ordinary.
She spotted Amna standing near the art room.
The moment their eyes met, Aizal knew she had barely slept.
Dark circles rested beneath her eyes.
The smile she offered never reached them.
Without a word, Aizal gently took her hand.
"Come."
Together, they walked into an empty classroom before the first bell rang.
Once the door was closed, Aizal turned to her.
"You can tell me now."
Amna lowered her gaze.
"I went to the principal's office yesterday."
"Why?"
"One of my students had been repeatedly bullied. I wanted to discuss the matter with him."
Aizal gave a slight nod, encouraging her to continue.
"At first, everything was normal."
Amna's fingers tightened around each other.
"Then... while I was explaining the situation... he came closer."
Her voice faltered.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And he placed his hand on my shoulder."
The room fell silent.
"I stepped away immediately."
She brushed the tear from her face.
"But he smiled... as if nothing had happened."
Aizal didn't interrupt.
Her face remained composed, but her jaw tightened almost unnoticed.
"I left his office," Amna continued quietly.
"Later, I spoke to another teacher."
"What did she say?" Aizal asked.
"She wasn't surprised."
Aizal looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
Amna swallowed hard.
"She told me I'm not the first."
Another teacher.
Then another.
One after another, women had experienced the same behaviour.
None of them had reported him.
"They were afraid," Amna whispered.
"They thought no one would believe them."
A heavy silence settled between them.After several long moments, Aizal finally spoke.
"You did nothing wrong."
"I keep thinking... maybe I misunderstood..."
"No."
Aizal's voice was calm, but firm.
"You stepped away because your instincts told you something was wrong. Trust them."
Amna looked at her.
"What should I do?"
Aizal didn't hesitate.
"You will never stay silent because of fear."
The first school bell echoed through the corridor.
Students began gathering outside their classrooms.
Aizal glanced toward the door before looking back at Amna.
"Go and teach your first lesson."
Amna searched her face.
"What about you?"
A quiet determination settled in Aizal's eyes.
"I need to have a conversation with someone."
Amna immediately understood who she meant.
"Aizal..."
"Don't worry."
Without another word, Aizal picked up a folder containing the examination schedules and walked toward the principal's office.
The corridor was quieter than usual.
Most of the students had already entered their classrooms, while the distant sound of the morning announcements echoed through the building.
Her steps remained steady, the examination file resting securely in her hands.
To anyone passing by, she looked like a teacher heading to discuss routine school matters.
Only she knew there was nothing routine about the conversation she was about to have.
She stopped outside the principal's office.
For a brief moment, she looked at the closed door.
Then she lifted her hand and knocked gently.
"Come in."
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