Mrs.Mirza

CHAPTER 25

Minha Ali
***********

I don't understand why he can't just leave me alone. Him and his whole damn family. They won't let me live my life in peace. It's like they're constantly lurking around, waiting to pounce on me. Do they not realise that their presence is suffocating and traumatizing me?

And that Asifa girl, ugh she's like a Komolika in my life. Always up to some shady shit to ruin my day. And don't even get me started on that bastard Shabbir Ali Khan. He's a kutta who just won't take no for an answer. Like, what even does he want from me?

I've told him countless times to stop talking to me and to not disturb me. But no, even his sister can't seem to get through to him. It's like he enjoys irritating me or something. Well, he better watch out because I'm not putting up with his nonsense anymore. I'll give him a piece of my mind if he dares to come near me again to talk.

I stormed back into the classroom, I could feel my blood boiling with anger. Like seriously this Khan khandan will make me go crazy for sure. I popped down next to Aiman, ready to vent out my frustration. But before I could even say a word, Mr. Saifi our commerce professor, stopped writing on the board and asked me where I had disappeared to.

Ugh, I hated this subject with all my might. And ofc, he would have to pick this momnet to ask me a question.

"Don't tell me he's going to grill me now?", I grumbled under my breath as I reluctantly stood up.

"Ms. Shamaila called me to her office, sir", I replied shooting him a glare.

"How can you leave the class when I was teaching such an important topic?", he retorted, his voice laced with anger.

"Well I can't use telepathy to know that you were teaching a important topic, sir", I said with a sarcastic smile, causing laughter to erupt in the classroom.

"How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful manner?", he asked, slamming his book on the table.

"Well, I believe communication requires a mouth, not daring", I replied, rolling my eyes. I had been irritated from the start, and his foolish questions only made it worse.

"Get out of class!", he shouted. I quickly gathered my books, slung my backpack over my right shoulder, and left the room. 

I walked into the canteen, taking in the sights and sounds around me. I found a seat and sat down, my eyes wandering as I tried to shake off my boredom. Deciding to satisfy my hunger, I ordered a burger and began eating slowly, savoring each bite.

It's funny how I tend to eat a lot when I'm either bored or angry; there's something about that calms me down and brings me comfort.

After finishing my meal, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a book and pencil. I started to sketch a pair of eyes, pouring my emotions into the drawing. These eyes became my favorite creation, filled with love and warmth every time I look at them. 

I carefully sketch a pair of eyes that captivate me with their depth and warmth. These eyes, which I find myself slowly falling for, seem to twinkle with joy when ever he smiles. They hold a wealth of love and kindness for all they meet, speaking volumes without uttering a word. In their gaze, I see a reflection of his soul, pure and beautiful.

"What are you sketching?", a male voice asked, causing me to lift my head and find baba sitting opposite to me on the seat.

"Nothing", I mumbled, closing my book and meeting his gaze.

"How is my ammu doing?", he inquired, a smile gracing his face.

"Don't you think it's too late to ask those questions?", I retorted, my eyes narrowing as I studied him.