After Layla reached the school gate, she saw only a handful of students trickling into the building. The silence of the courtyard confirmed what she already suspected—she was late. If not for the woman she had helped earlier, she would've arrived on time. But she didn't regret her actions. Instead, she felt a sense of calm, almost a strange satisfaction, as if what she'd done had grounded her in something more meaningful than routine.
She walked briskly through the main hallway, her steps echoing against the marble tiles. It was Monday, and fortunately, the teachers were still in their morning staff meeting. That meant she wouldn't be marked late, at least not officially.
As she stepped into her classroom, every head turned. Almost all her classmates stared at her.
Some expressions were filled with curiosity—after all, school had resumed a full week ago, and this was her first appearance. Others, mostly from the girls' side, were tinged with jealousy. Layla was, by anyone's standards, breathtakingly beautiful. She had long, lustrous black hair that fell in gentle waves, flawless skin that seemed to glow even under fluorescent lights, and eyes so deep and expressive they often made people lose their train of thought. Even without trying, she became the center of attention wherever she went, and not everyone appreciated that.
The boys stared too, but their looks were different—more admiring, some even bordering on awkward fascination. Boys would be boys, and Layla was the type of girl who made even the most indifferent guy glance twice.
"Ooh, look who's here—the beauty with the chicken brain!" sneered a voice from the middle row. It was Raya, one of the girls notorious for her sharp tongue and venom-laced remarks.
Laughter followed from her group of equally petty friends.
"When she missed the first week, I thought she'd run off with some sugar daddy and had no plans of coming back!" chimed in another girl, snorting at her own joke.
Layla said nothing. She didn't flinch. She walked calmly to her desk, which was right beside her best friend Asma, who sat quietly but was clearly fuming.
"Raya, what do you think you're doing?" Meher, the class leader, stood up suddenly. Her voice was stern. "Layla was sick. The homeroom teacher knows that. How can you say something like that?"
"Ooh, please," Raya rolled her eyes dramatically. "Everyone in this class knows you like Layla. Of course you'll jump to her defense."
"And everyone in this school knows you're jealous of her beauty, so you always find a reason to pick a fight," Asma interjected smoothly, her smile sugary sweet. She stood up as well, her arms crossed.
"You... You!" Raya stammered, pointing a trembling finger at Asma.
The boys laughed quietly. Raya's attempt at a verbal assault had backfired, and she knew it.
Layla had already taken her seat beside Asma. Asma leaned in, her tone shifting to concern.
"Are you sure you're fully recovered? You should've rested more."
"You sound like my mom," Layla replied with a soft chuckle.
"Of course I care about you! I'm planning to marry you off to my big brother," Asma said with a playful grin.
"You're dreaming," Layla shot back, smiling despite herself.
"But seriously, why were you late? You live the closest to school out of all of us."
"Oh, there was an accident," Layla said, her tone casual. "A car had overturned, and a woman was trapped. I helped her out."
Asma blinked. "You helped her? Was she okay?"
"She is now," Layla answered, not wanting to go into the bizarre detail of how she'd ripped a car door off its hinges. "The ambulance came in time."
Seeing Layla fit and alert, Asma didn't pry further. Before she could change the subject, the homeroom teacher entered the room.
"Layla, follow me outside," he said with a nod.
Layla stood up and quietly followed Mr. Kazim out into the corridor.
"Your mom informed me about your illness," Mr. Kazim began, his tone gentle. "Are you sure you're fit to return to school?"
"Yes, teacher. I'm fully recovered now. Don't worry about me—I can manage."
"I'm glad to hear that. Alright then, go back to class."
She returned to the classroom, only to find the mathematics teacher had already arrived. She greeted him respectfully.
"Good morning, Layla," he replied. "Go ahead and take your seat."
Just as she sat down, the teacher cleared his throat.
"As you all know, the college entrance exams are approaching quickly. To prepare, we'll be conducting frequent tests. Starting today."
Groans erupted across the room. The teacher began distributing the question papers.
"It wouldn't be surprising for the beauty with the chicken brain to get zero again," Raya said in a loud whisper, clearly intending for everyone—including the teacher—to hear. "She barely scraped 20 marks last time, and now she's missed a whole week. What's she going to write on her answer sheet? Her makeup routine?"
Snickers followed, but they were quickly silenced.
"If you say one more word, Raya, I'll throw you out of my class," the math teacher said without looking up.
Raya clamped her mouth shut, her face burning red.
The class settled into silence, and the test began.
Layla took a deep breath. The numbers and formulas swirled on the paper in front of her. Her pen hovered for a moment. Despite missing a week, her mind felt sharp. Clearer than it had in a long time.
One by one, she began solving the problems.
From across the room, Asma glanced at her best friend, proud and amused.
Something about Layla felt different today. Stronger. Calmer. Almost… powerful.