The air was still thick with the aftertaste of Minha's haunting song. Some students clapped lightly, unsure whether to feel impressed or… worried.
Minha sat back in her seat, a small, secretive smile on her lips.
Aleena Batool didn't clap. She was frozen in her chair, eyes wide. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat during every line of that song. It wasn't just a song.
It was a message. And it was personal.
Fatima Noor Malik leaned in, whispering to Manahil Khan.
"Bro… did she just threaten Aleena in poetry form?"
Manahil raised a brow. "That was Shakespeare-level threatening. But make it spooky."
Aleena finally found her voice and chuckled nervously. "I mean, good lyrics… if we're auditioning for a ghost drama."
Minha turned and looked at her calmly. "It was just a song, Aleena. Don't take it personally…"
Then, with a cold smile, she added,
"…unless it was meant for you."
The entire row went silent.
Manahil whispered under her breath, "Okay, this girl's playlist is probably made of haunted lullabies."
Just then, to ease the tension, Hijab , Eman leaned toward Minha and said, "Do you sing anything normal? Like… Bollywood? Or do your songs come with a side of curses?"
The class burst into laughter.
Minha giggled softly. "Only when I'm in a good mood."
Meanwhile, Noor ul Huda had started sketching something on the back page of her notebook—a rough drawing of the scene from earlier: Minha in front of the class, with shadows behind her.
As the Period Passed…
Minha started humming again. This time the tone was gentler, sadder, and eerily peaceful.
The girls leaned in as she began to sing, almost like a whisper:
"There comes a time in every life,
When all dreams align, or burn in strife.
Some laugh, some break, some quietly fall,
But not everyone is seen by all."
"Some find heaven in little things,
A cup of tea, a songbird that sings.
But some hold darkness in their hands,
A chill, a shadow… slipping through sands."
"I once was kind, soft like the breeze,
But now I see—some people never see peace.
The world broke me… maybe I let it.
But every crack hides a story—don't forget it."
"Humans are mirrors, cracked and bent,
Some wear smiles, some wear regret.
But no one's a hero in every tale,
And no one's a villain without a trail.
"When Judgment Day arrives, no mask will stay,
He will ask what you did… not what you say."
Minha paused, her eyes looking upward—serene, like someone caught between two worlds.
She softly recited, almost like an echo from far away:
"فَمَن يَعْمَلْ مِثْقَالَ ذَرَّةٍ خَيْرًا يَرَهُ
وَمَن يَعْمَلْ مِثْقَالَ ذَرَّةٍ شَرًّا يَرَهُ"
(So whoever does an atom's weight of good will see it,
And whoever does an atom's weight of evil will see it – Surah Az-Zalzalah 99:7-8)
The class fell silent again. This time not out of fear, but out of strange reflection. The song was dark—but honest. Painful—but peaceful.
After the Song: Confused Conversations
After the bell rang, the students gathered their things. Conversation buzzed again—but now with questions.
Yumna whispered, "Do you think she's… okay?"
Sadiya shrugged. "She's like a walking horror novel mixed with a motivational speaker."
Hooria, Amna chuckled. "Bro, she gave me goosebumps and depression."
Minha, packing her bag quietly, glanced back at Aleena. "What's your power?" she asked casually.
Aleena blinked. "I… I'm a healer. Why?"
Minha tilted her head. "Just curious. Healers are always the first to break. It's a curse."
Aleena frowned. "What do you mean?"
Minha's smile widened. "You'll understand… when you reach 17."
"17 what?" Aleena asked.
Minha leaned in and whispered coldly, "The age when healers start to feel everything break… inside."
Before Aleena could reply, a creepy little girl with a pale face suddenly appeared outside the window and called, "Minha! Let's go."
Minha turned back toward her. "Coming, sister."
Before walking out, she turned to Aleena once more. "That was a joke, by the way. Don't take it seriously."
She winked and walked away like nothing happened.
Aleena stared at the window. The little girl was gone.