Kuch Toh Hai

Part 15

 A question for my readers- are you liking the pace of the story? or you want complicated feelings and a slow burn type of thing?

The faculty lounge. Mug of untouched tea. A notebook open, but no words written.

It was supposed to be just another day.

Haseena had started her morning as usual — draped in her crispest saree, hair pinned into her no-nonsense bun, lesson plans arranged in clean bullet points.

But somewhere between "Personification" and "Oxymoron", her mind had drifted.

To her.

Karishma.

The girl with stubborn eyes and a surprisingly sharp tongue. Always sitting third bench, pen tapping against her chin when she's thinking. Always scribbling something furiously, as if she was running out of time.
Always—just there.

Haseena sighs and leans back into her chair, her finger lazily tracing the rim of the tea cup.

She doesn't understand what it is.
This strange ache.
This strange pull.

Whenever she walks into the corridor and hears someone mention Karishma's name in a hushed whisper —
"I heard she fought some boys last week..."
"Someone said she topped in three subjects!"
"She came to college sick yesterday but still stayed for all classes..."

Haseena finds herself slowing her pace. Listening harder. Pretending she isn't.

Why do I care?
Why do I want to know every detail?

Her colleagues had laughed once, saying Karishma was "fiery."
"She has attitude," they'd said.
But Haseena had wanted to say — No. She's just misunderstood.

She hadn't said it out loud.

She didn't understand why she even felt so protective. So curious. So — soft.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she looked outside the window of the lounge and saw students milling about during break.

And there she was.

Karishma.

Hair tied messily, bag slung sideways, a biscuit packet in one hand, animatedly scolding Mishri for stealing the cream one.

Haseena's lips curved involuntarily.

There it is again.
The flutter.
The little tug at her chest like a kite string tightening.

She forced her gaze away.

She was Professor Haseena Malik.
This wasn't how she did things.
She didn't stare. She didn't linger. She didn't flutter.

And yet... here she was, heart doing things it had no business doing, over a girl who never called her anything but "aap" — like a respectful student should.

But that "aap" had started to sound different.

Like a secret.
Like a sigh.
Like the beginning of something unnamed.

******************************************

Time: Post-lunch lecture
Setting: A warm, sleepy classroom — students slumped, fans creaking, and one particular professor in her no-nonsense avatar.

The door opens with a click.
Heels. Silence. Terror.
It's Professor Haseena Malik. Clad in a crisp saree and that signature intimidating stare.

Haseena (calm but deadly):
"Good afternoon, everyone. Open your notebooks. Page 52. We'll begin with rhetorical devices today."

The room collectively groans in their souls.

Karishma sits on the third bench, alert, pretending she's totally fine and not thinking about the chai moment from yesterday.

Mishri is doodling hearts labelled "K+H" in her margin. Santu's trying to figure out how to secretly eat Parle-G without noise.

Haseena (sharply):
"Mr. Amar, if your yawning is louder than my voice, perhaps you should take the lecture instead?"

Amar nearly falls off his chair.

Haseena paces, explains complex metaphors with intensity. Her voice is firm, her gaze sharper than her eyeliner.

Until...

Her eyes land on Karishma, who's scribbling notes furiously like her pen is on fire.

A tiny, almost imperceptible pause.

Haseena (slightly softer):
"Karishma... aapko samajh aa raha hai?"

Karishma (startled):
"Ji! Bilkul, mam."

Haseena (warm smile flickering through):
"Good. I can always count on you to listen."

The class blinks.

Mishri turns to Santu, mouthing:
"Count on you???"

Santu mouths back:
"Ab yeh class hai ya rishta meeting?"

Haseena (back to regular tone):
"Okay. Now I want everyone to write five examples of irony. No excuses."

She resumes, but her eyes find their way back to Karishma every now and then.

Karishma's cheeks are definitely pink. Mishri pokes her with the end of her pen.

Mishri (whispers):
"Beta ji, yeh kya chal raha hai 'good girl' treatment?"

Karishma (whispers back):
"She was just—asking!"

Santu (seriously):
"Mujhe lagta hai Mam ko tumse sach mein pyaar ho gaya hai... I mean... five examples of irony? Isn't it ironic itself?"

The bell rings. Students begin packing up.

Haseena glances at Karishma again.

Haseena:
"Karishma, if you have time after class, can you stay back for a minute? I want to go over your last assignment."

Karishma gulps.
Mishri lets out a silent scream.
Santu gives a thumbs up.

As everyone files out, Mishri whispers dramatically:

Mishri:
"Tum toh ja rahi ho assignment dekhane... ya dil?"