Behind the Pages
382 Words
The classroom was quieter than usual, with the teacher running a little late and students murmuring among themselves. Ruhi sat by the window, sunlight brushing across her notebook as she flipped through past lessons. Sidro was beside her, doodling something that looked more like a storm cloud than a flower.
"You know," Sidro said, without looking up, "I feel like this class is slowly trying to melt my brain."
Ruhi chuckled under her breath. "Then stop drawing your frustration."
"Never," Sidro replied dramatically. “It’s how I cope.”
A chair scraped nearby. Junaid entered the room with his usual calm stride, carrying a worn-out textbook. He exchanged a brief salaam with a few classmates, then took a seat two rows ahead, his back straight as he opened to a marked page.
Sidro leaned in toward Ruhi. “He even sits like he’s solving global peace.”
Ruhi didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t want to—but because Sidro wasn’t exactly wrong.
Moments later, Mr. Larkin arrived, shuffling papers. “Alright, everyone. Settle down. Let’s pick up from where we stopped yesterday.”
The lesson drifted into motion, words and diagrams filling the board. Ruhi took notes, but her pen paused at times—not because she was distracted, but because her thoughts kept slipping somewhere in the quiet between lines.
From time to time, she caught Junaid raising his hand to answer. His voice was steady, not overly confident, but precise. He didn’t speak often—but when he did, it was the kind of answer that made you go back and rethink the question.
At break, Sidro stretched and nudged her. “Let’s go. I need air.”
Ruhi packed her books and followed. Outside, the courtyard was breezy, with students scattered in loose groups. Irfan was already leaning against the railing, tossing a bottle cap into the air.
“You two are slow,” he said as they joined him.
“Maybe you're just fast,” Ruhi replied softly.
Junaid came out a few minutes later, holding a tangerine he’d probably taken from the cafeteria tray. He nodded at them before peeling it, standing close enough to join the circle without saying much.
It was easy, the way they all stood together.
Not forced. Not loud.
Just… steady.
- Writer
