It was one of those rare, cooler days of "winter" in Malaysia. Of course, Kuala Lumpur never had real winter like other countries; there was no snow, no icy winds. But the sky was cloudy, and the air carried a soft, damp chill after last night's rain. The breeze was cooler than usual, making people pull their sleeves down. People wore light jackets more for style than necessity.
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was anything but calm. It wasn't a luxurious school, no air-conditioned rooms or polished marble floors. This was a regular government institute. Just squeaky ceiling fans spinning overhead, wooden benches scratched with years of student graffiti, and paint on the walls that had faded from bright cream to a tired yellow. The classroom windows were wide open to invite in whatever breeze dared to wander in.
The teacher was absent today, so the class had turned into a mini carnival. A few boys had taken over the back corner of the room, using notebooks as wickets and a tennis ball to play cricket. A group of girls sat gossiping near the window, squealing every now and then, while some studious students pretended to read but were clearly lost in their own thoughts. The hum of chatter, laughter, and cricket commentary filled the room like background music.
But honestly? Zainab liked this school. It had character.
Well… to be fair, she didn't choose this school because she liked its "character." She transferred here for one very simple reason: Aqil.
Zainab had met Aqil at a tuition class six months back. At first, he was just that quiet boy who always sat in the corner, did his work neatly, and spoke only when the teacher asked him something. But over time, she learned that Aqil had this incredible gift — he was insanely good at doing homework. Like, terrifyingly good. His handwriting was perfect, his answers were always right, and his diagrams looked like they were printed from a textbook. Meanwhile, Zainab was… well, Zainab. Homework wasn't her thing. She was more of a "last-minute panic" kind of student.
It didn't take long for her to strike a deal with Aqil. He would do her homework, and she would cover his tuition fees. Aqil never asked for money — in fact, he seemed embarrassed when she first offered — but Zainab found out he was an orphan, living in a hostel with barely enough money to survive, let alone pay for tuition classes. So, she requested. Aqil, in return, became her personal homework hero. She always had this confident, bossy way of convincing people, and Aqil eventually gave in.
But then, Zainab came up with an even more "genius" plan.
"If I transfer to your school," she had announced one evening, leaning dramatically against her desk at tuition, "you can do my homework and I can make sure you get free snacks from me every day. Same institute, same homework. Easy life."
Aqil had blinked, unsure if she was serious. She was. Within a month, she was enrolled here.
Now she sat cross-legged on her bench, already munching her tiffin way before the actual break time. She was nibbling on a sandwich. Her bright eyes scanned Nayla, who sat on the bench in front of her, alongside Yusuf, "Hey, Nayla, why didn't you come to tuition this morning?"
Nayla was quietly peeling off a sheet of stickers, carefully placing them on the cover of her notebook. She turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder. Aqil was seated next to Zainab, checking her practical work on a map, adjusting the lines and markers.
"Ugh," Nayla muttered dramatically, "I don't even have anyone to complete this shitty homework for me before class… and of course, the power went out last night. Had to do it all this morning. And to top it off, Mom's been unwell for days." She sighed heavily.
Without looking up, Aqil replied calmly, "I'm not completing it for her. I'm just correcting some errors."
Nayla shot him a teasing smile. "Yes, yes… just some errors." She dragged out the words, clearly unconvinced.
Yusuf, who was sitting right next to Nayla, leaned over, his elbow brushing her arm, and grinned, "Hey, do you remember a few days ago when we watched that movie? The boy had a huge crush on his classmate but never said anything in front of her."
Aqil's eyes shot daggers at him. He had a way of showing irritation without actually speaking—just a look that could make someone rethink their words. Yusuf, noticing the stare, gave a nervous chuckle and raised his hands, pretending to surrender.
Nayla giggled. "Yup, I remember! And it took him seven years to finally propose! Such a dramatic ending."
Meanwhile Zainab slowly put the sandwich down on her tiffin box and looked at Yusuf with a raised eyebrow. "Wait… what? You guys went to watch a movie and didn't even tell me? Do you know how rude that is?"
"Well… you decided to sleep that day instead of going out. So, we went without you." Yusuf gave a little shrug, clearly enjoying her reaction.
Zainab crossed her arms, "Sleeping doesn't mean I don't want fun! I should have been there!" She paused, and then her gaze shifted toward Aqil. "And… Aqil, did you go with them?"
"No," he said softly, looking down at the map he was still correcting. "I wasn't even told. Besides, I'm not interested in watching movies."
Zainab frowned again. "Hmph… typical Aqil. Always serious, always quiet. You never join any fun. You just do homework and sit there like some… some teacher!"
Aqil's lips twitched ever so slightly, almost like he wanted to smile but didn't, "I prefer to focus on important things. Somebody has to make sure you pass your exams. Movies aren't important to me."
The loud ringing of the school bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the start of the tiffin break. Chairs scraped against the floor as students rushed to grab their lunchboxes and form their usual groups.
Yusuf grabbed his bag. "Come on, Nayla. Let's grab food before the canteen line gets crazy."
"Bye, lazy princess," Nayla teased Zainab as she followed him out.
Soon, the classroom grew quieter. Only Zainab, Aqil, and a few other kids were left.
Zainab packed up her half-eaten sandwich and carefully wiped her hands with a wet tissue. She stomped toward the corner of the classroom, threw the tissue into the dustbin with a little extra force, and came back to her seat, crossing her arms and scowling. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were sharp—she was clearly annoyed.
Aqil closed his book and looked at her. "Are you… angry?"
Zainab turned to him, glaring for a moment before speaking. "Angry? Of course, I'm angry!" she exclaimed. "All my life, everything has to be complicated! I came here to this school because you. You—helped me with studies. That's fine, I get it. I owe you that. But what about the other part? At my old school, I couldn't make friends, nobody wanted to talk to me. And now, here, these two—Yusuf and Nayla—they're so busy being funny and hanging out together, ignoring everyone else. And you…" she paused, pointing a finger at Aqil, "…you are never interested in going anywhere, joining anything, or even trying to talk about fun things. What am I supposed to do now? I mean… I have three people around me, but I feel like I have no one at all! No real friend! Everyone else has someone, and I… I just have myself!"
Aqil listened quietly, "I will wait in front of your house at ten… tomorrow. It's Sunday."
"Eh? Wait in front of my house? What are you… what will you do there?"
Aqil looked at her without hesitation. "I'll wait for you to come out… then we can go hang out somewhere."
Her frustration turned into mild surprise. "Wait… just because I want to go, you're willing to…? You don't even complain or say no?"
Aqil nodded once. He couldn't tell her what he really felt about her. If she asked him to die, he would have done it without hesitation—but saying how he feels… that would never happen.
He reached into his bag, pulling out the pen with careful fingers. It was beautiful—a soft, pastel pink, with green accents curling around like tiny vines. Sparkling dots glittered along the clip, catching the sunlight just right. He handed it to Zainab, "I… I saw this pen in a stationary shop yesterday. It reminded me of the kind of things you like. I thought… maybe you'd want it."
Zainab held the pen in her small hands, turning it carefully to see every detail, "Hmm… let me see… Oh my gosh, it's really pretty. Look at these little sparkles and the green swirls! Where did you even find this?"
"So… is there any place you want to go tomorrow?" he asked, making sure she understood he really wanted her to decide. Anywhere you want, you can choose."
Zainab tapped the tip of her green pen against her hand, "Hmm… let me think." She started marking little doodles and lines on the back of her hand with the pen. The sweet, faint smell of the ink reached her nose, and her eyes sparkled. "Oh wow… it even smells nice while writing!"
"Smell it! Go on… smell it!" she giggled, stretching her arm fully toward him.
Aqil's eyes widened just a little, and he quickly leaned back, feeling nervous and shy all at once. "Y-yeah… I already… I mean, I did smell it already."
Then he quickly pulled his head back, just enough so her hand wouldn't touch his face. He didn't want her to notice how nervous he was, but his shyness always betrayed him. Whenever Zainab came this close, he felt like he couldn't breathe properly.
She gave a little shrug, lowering her hand and turning her attention back to the pen...