ENIGMA

Horror of Mathematics

"Let’s get to work,” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes blazed with authority. “What did you have for homework?”

Inaya hesitated, her mind racing. “Um, we were supposed to solve the math problems from chapter five and read a chapter from our history book.”

“Okay, let’s start with math. Open your book,” Advik instructed, his voice firm. He leaned closer, scanning the problems she was supposed to solve. “You don’t have time to daydream or procrastinate. If you finish quickly, we can move on to history.”

Inaya nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt trapped but knew better than to defy him. As she flipped through the pages, she couldn’t help but glance at Advik. He had this intense focus, and even though she was scared, she also felt a strange sense of security in his presence.

“Start with the first problem. Show your work,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Taking a deep breath, she began to write. The numbers danced on the page, and as she worked through the problem, she felt the weight of his gaze. The silence was thick, filled with tension.

Inaya’s hand trembled as she attempted to solve the next problem, but her mind was a blur. She glanced at her paper, where a series of numbers swirled into confusion, and felt the familiar panic rising in her chest.

“Come on, Inaya, we don’t have all day. You need to get through this quickly,” Advik said, his voice sharp and commanding.

She looked down at her work, biting her lip, and didn’t respond. The silence stretched out between them, and Advik’s irritation simmered.

“What’s the matter?” he snapped, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

Inaya stayed quiet, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She didn’t want to admit that she had no idea how to solve the questions in front of her.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” Advik pressed, his frustration evident. “Is this too difficult for you? Didn’t your school teacher explain these concepts?”

She shifted in her chair, feeling small under his scrutiny. “I… I don’t know how to solve them,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why not?” Advik’s brow furrowed, incredulous. “This isn’t rocket science! You should have learned this already.”

Advik pressed the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying. “It seems like it’s high time I go and talk to your teacher. I need to get some feedback on what’s going on in your class. Are you really not paying attention?”

Inaya could only nod, the weight of guilt pressing down on her.

“Read the question aloud,” he instructed, his voice cutting through the air with authority.

Inaya sighed and reluctantly read, “sin²θ + cos⁴θ = cos²θ + sin⁴θ.”

“Okay, what do you see here?” Advik asked, crossing his arms as he scrutinized her expression. “Do you even understand what this means?”

She shook her head, her throat tightening. “No.”

“Of course you don’t,” he replied, frustration lacing his words. “Have you even tried to learn these concepts, or are you just hoping they’ll magically make sense one day? Do you think this is just going to go away if you ignore it?”

Inaya shrank back, feeling the weight of his anger. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Just write down the left-hand side,” Advik instructed sharply. “What do you have?”