GrandView High

~TWENTY💙~

NIMI'S POV

The last day of midterms started with the usual sluggishness. The school was quieter than usual, a mixture of exhaustion and tension hanging in the air. Everyone was either buried in last-minute revision or staring blankly into space, too drained to care anymore.

My brain was fried, my fingers ached from writing nonstop, and my whole body just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next three days. But at least it was going to be over soon....for now.

I sat in my class, flipping through my notes half-heartedly.

 Across the room, a group of boys were having a heated discussion over whether or not the teacher would recycle questions from previous years. I overheard KC say confidently, "No way. She's too lazy to come up with new questions. Just read the past papers and you're good."

Someone groaned. "You should have told me that yesterday!"

Meanwhile, another girl was pacing near the window, muttering formulas under her breath like a spell. The exam hadn't even started, and everyone was already on edge.

Then, the door opened, and our invigilator walked in, carrying a stack of question papers. The murmuring died instantly.

"Good morning, everyone," she said in a clipped tone. "You know the drill. Bags to the front, no talking, and keep your eyes on your own work."

There was a collective shuffling as students dragged their bags to the front, pulled out their pens, and tried to mentally prepare themselves for the next few hours of torture.

The question papers were distributed, and as soon as one landed on my desk, my stomach twisted. Alright, Nimi. You've got this.

The next two hours blurred into a haze of scribbled answers, occasional sighs, and the rhythmic ticking of the classroom clock. There were moments when I felt confident—my pen flying across the page—and others where I stared at a question like it had personally offended me.

A few seats ahead, someone let out a quiet but very clear "Chai."

I fought back a laugh.

At one point, a boy on the other side of the room raised his hand hesitantly. "Ma, can I borrow an extra pen? Mine isn't working well."

The invigilator barely looked up. "Why didn't you bring an extra?"

"Uh—"

"No borrowing. Manage it."

There was an audible groan, followed by frantic pen-shaking.

Another boy raised his hand hesitantly. "Ma, I need an extra sheet."

The invigilator barely looked at him. "Use the space you have."

"But ma—"

"Are you writing an autobiography? Manage it."

A few students chuckled under their breath.

I let out a quiet sigh and refocused on my paper. The last few questions weren't as bad as I had feared, but I still had to fight the urge to just drop my pen and submit. I pushed through, filling in the last of my answers just as the invigilator announced, "Time's up. Stop writing and put your pens down."

I exhaled deeply, stretching my fingers. The classroom erupted into soft murmurs as we handed in our papers. As soon as I stepped outside, the cool air felt like freedom.

I gathered my things and walked out into the hallway, where I spotted Asher leaning against a nearby wall. He had finished his paper a little earlier since he was in a different class, and judging by the way he looked at me, he could already tell I was drained.