ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 23: It IS our last year...

Kesariya - Arijit Singh
🦢🐚🥥✨

The day was winding down, the excitement in the air slowly fading into a comfortable lull.

Everyone was back in class, sprawled across desks and chairs, too tired to do anything but gossip and relive the highlights of the day. The hum of voices echoed around the room, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax.

Tejal was sitting next to me, her legs crossed on her chair, her head leaning back as she absently fiddled with a paper decoration.

We were both exhausted-physically and mentally. But there was this underlying tension, this unspoken realization hanging between us.

It was our last Teacher's Day here.

The last time we'd ever get to do this in this place.

I didn't want to think about it, but it gnawed at me anyway.

"You ever think about how this could be the last time?" She muttered, glancing glancing over at me. I looked up, my brows furrowing for a second before I sighed.

"It is our last year," I said, my voice quiet. "not could be."

There it was. The same thing I'd been avoiding. The thought that after this year, it was all over.

This school, this routine, these stupid events we pretended to hate but secretly loved-it was all coming to an end.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging off my own words, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "I mean, it's just school, right?"

Tejal scoffed, rolling her eyes at me. "Yeah, and it's been our entire lives for the past how many years?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

She wasn't wrong.

But it wasn't like me to get all sentimental about stuff like this. Still, sitting there with her, in the half-empty classroom with the remnants of decorations scattered around, I felt it. That little crack in my armor, the one that only ever appeared when it was too late to do anything about it.

Tejal must've felt the same because she didn't say anything else for a while. We just sat there, letting the reality of it all sink in.

Then, out of nowhere, I pulled a pen out of my bag. It was one of those cheap pens we'd bought to give to the teachers today. I held it out to her, the corners of my lips twitching up into a smirk.

"Happy Teacher's Day," I said.

She frowned, looking at the pen, then back at me, clearly confused. "What are you-"

"For teaching me how to stay strong," I cut her off. "Not everyone can handle that."

Her expression softened, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But Tejal being Tejal, she just smiled, shaking her head like she couldn't believe me.

She pulled out her own pen from her pocket-the one she'd meant to give to a teacher too-and handed it to me. "Happy Teacher's Day to you too, then. For teaching me how to love myself. Even when I didn't know how."

It was one of those rare moments between us where neither of us was sarcastic or blunt.

No jokes, no pretenses.

Just honesty.

We'd been through a lot together. More than most people knew. And the thing was, we never really needed to talk about it. We just got each other. No explanations required.