Sayonee (Re-writing)

T h r e e

───────•••───────
Laila
───────•••───────

If there was one thing university had taught me, it was that people lied about creative subjects being easy.

Drama and Theatre sounded exciting in theory.

In reality, it involved long discussions about expression, symbolism, and stage movement while I fought for my life trying to stay awake in the back row.

"Laila."

Alaya nudged my arm again.

I opened one eye slowly. "If this is another lecture about participation, I'm dropping out."

"You've contributed absolutely nothing in this class."

"I contribute emotionally."

"You were sleeping."

"I was reflecting internally."

She stared at me for a long moment before turning back toward the stage with visible disappointment.

I smiled faintly to myself and rested my chin against my palm again.

The classroom lights were dimmed while a group of students rehearsed some painfully dramatic scene near the front. Rain tapped softly against the windows outside, making the entire room warmer and sleepier than it already was.

Honestly, no one could reasonably expect concentration in this environment.

"You are coming tonight, right?" Alaya whispered suddenly.

"To the party?"

"No, obviously to a secret underground concert."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm coming."

"You sound thrilled."

"I'm thrilled about the food."

"That's because you're emotionally shallow."

"That's because your family hires excellent chefs."

Before she could respond, the bell rang loudly through the corridor.

Relief swept across the room immediately.

Around us, students started gathering notebooks and bags while the rehearsal group looked personally offended by everyone's happiness.

"I'm going home," I announced dramatically while shoving books into my bag. "I've suffered enough for one day."

"You still have two lectures left."

"I'm willing to sacrifice my education."

"You say that every week."

"And one day I'll mean it."

Alaya grabbed my sleeve before I could stand properly. "If you disappear now, Danish Bhai will interrogate both of us later."

Unfortunately, she was right.

Danish approached missing university hours the same way investigators approached criminal activity.

With deep suspicion.

The hallway outside was crowded and noisy by the time we stepped out of class. Students rushed between departments carrying coffees, assignments, and varying levels of academic regret.

"Maan Bhai asked about you yesterday," Alaya said casually.

I glanced sideways at her. "Why?"

She looked far too entertained already. "Nothing serious. He just said you seemed very confident considering your first interaction with him involved yelling at Danish Bhai."