The classroom smelled like crayons, glue, and slight nervousness.
Tiny chairs. Tinier tables. And tiny humans.
Haseena stepped in like she was entering a royal courtroom. Her tiny eyes scanned the room like a seasoned detective in a crime drama.
One kid was crying with a finger in his nose. Disqualified.
Another was chewing on a pencil like it was made of chocolate. Disqualified.
One little girl looked promising—until she sneezed directly onto her own hand.
Haseena made a face.
She sighed. Yeh toh sab amateur hain.
She walked to her assigned seat like a warrior heading to a battlefield. Backpack placed carefully. Water bottle adjusted. Back straight.
She sat.
And glared.
The teacher, a sweet woman with far too much optimism for this hour of the day, clapped her hands.
“Good morning, children!”
A mixed mumble of responses came from all corners of the room.
The teacher beamed. “So! Who can tell me what we see in the sky during the day?”
Hands shot up.
But before the teacher could pick someone—Haseena’s hand went up too.
Confidently.
She stood up even before being called. Adjusted her frock. Cleared her throat.
And said proudly—
“Barfi!”
A moment of silence.
The teacher blinked. “Beta… kya?”
Haseena looked confused. “Haan! Sky mein barfi girti hai na… white white… ghoomti rehti hai!”
Another kid whispered, “Woh toh snow hota hai!”
“Barfi aur snow same hi toh hota hai! Mujhe dono pasand hain.” she declared, sitting down like she just dropped wisdom from the heavens.
The teacher smiled awkwardly. “Okay… creative answer, sweetie.”
Creative. That was a word Haseena didn’t understand—but it sounded like a compliment.
The bell rang.
And from the chaos of school bags and half-eaten tiffins came one very tired, slightly disheveled, and grumpy Haseena.
Her ponytail was sideways. Her shoes had swapped feet. Her water bottle was missing its cap.
And yet—her eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
“Abbbuuu!” she yelled, running like the wind.
He caught her mid-air with practiced ease. “Kaisi rahi pehli class meri boss ki?”
She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Thak gayi hoon. Bohot mushkil kaam hai school. Barfi bola toh sab hase… koi samajhta hi nahi.”
He chuckled, walking her toward the car. “Toh agli baar kya bologi?”
She thought for a second. “Agli baar bhi barfi bolungi. Par thoda style mein.”
“Accha… boss ban ke.”
“Haan. School ka bhi ab main hi boss hoon.”
And with that, she finally smiled.
Because even if the classroom was confusing, and the kids were sneezy, and the teacher didn’t understand barfi logic—her Abbu always would.
Haseena had barely walked into the house before dropping her bag dramatically on the floor like she’d just returned from war.
“Main thak gayi hoon… koi mujhe pyaar bhi nahi karta…” she announced loudly, pausing to make sure everyone heard.
Veer, sitting on the sofa with a glass of juice, looked up and smirked. “Oye drama queen, abhi toh half day school tha. Full day hoga toh kya karegi? Ambulance bulaungi kya?”
She gasped. “Bhaiya!! Aapko meri fikar hi nahi hai!”
Veer set his glass down and opened his arms. “Aa ja meri princess. Batao kaun si nayi musibat hui?”
She climbed into his lap like she was five years older and five times more fragile. “Maine barfi bola… teacher ne samjha hi nahi… fir kisi ne mera crayon bhi gira diya… aur lunch mein sirf ek bite kha payi kyunki meri choti waali chammach gir gayi thi.”
Veer nodded very seriously. “Yeh toh bohot badi tragedy hai. Lagta hai school ke logon ko training ki zarurat hai. Haseena 101.”
“Bilkul! Mujhe wapas nahi jaana! Mujhe ghar mein hi rakh lo… main yahin se padhoongi.”
“Theek hai. Par ek condition hai—har subject mein tum mujhe padhao.”
“Nahi! Mujhe nahi aata. Mujhe bas barfi aur Chhota Bheem aata hai.”
Veer laughed, giving her forehead a gentle kiss. “Toh wahi meri syllabus hoga.”
She snuggled into him and whispered, “Bhaiya… school thoda boring hai. Par agar wahan koi dost ban gaya na… toh theek ho jayega.”
Veer nodded, holding her tighter. “Kal pakka dost ban jayega. Tu jaise logo ko ignore karna mushkil hota hai.”
---
The next day, Haseena walked into class with a new plan.
“Aaj mujhe dost banana hai. Nahi toh protest.” she told herself under her breath, marching in like a tiny general.
She placed her bag, scanned the room (again), and sat down—arms folded.
Then she noticed a girl in the corner, struggling to open her pencil box.
Messy braids. Curious eyes. Slightly oversized frock.
Haseena leaned in.
“Tumhara naam kya hai?”
The girl looked up, startled. “Shazia.”
“Tumhara crayon girta hai kya?”
Shazia blinked. “Kya?”
“Mujhe pata hai tum acchi wali ho. Tum sneeze nahi karti na kisi pe?”
Shazia giggled. “Nahi!”
“Toh theek hai. Dosti pakki.”
Just like that.
Haseena pulled out her favorite crayon and handed it to her. “Iska naam Guddu Singh hai. Careful rehna.”
Shazia smiled wide. “Theek hai. Mera eraser ka naam Aloo Baby hai.”
Haseena gasped. “Humari dosti toh likhi gayi thi!”
And so, amidst crayons and chaos, Haseena found her very first school bestie.
YOU ARE READING
༺ 𒆜Ishq Ka Pehla Saya 𒆜 ༻
Fanfiction✧ Phase One: A childhood full of mischief, secrets, and survival. ✧ Phase Two: A college girl's battle between forbidden love and family duty. Haseena was born into rejection. But she was also born to fight. With two brothers who love her, a grandmo...
