Chapter 5:The Book lover

Mehtab's POV

"Mehtab, come to my office," Sir called out, then left.

I don't know what the problem is. I've been trying to keep things under control since morning. I don't know when my wrath will rain down on someone. Mehtab, you'll have to keep control over your emotions.

"Fadel, where are you going?" someone called from behind.

I'm starting to hate this name now. Then he passed so close by that he even knocked over my book. Does he have any sense at all? I kept staring at his back as he walked away.

"Mehtab, what are you doing?" said Maseera.

I jerked and turned to her, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. She pointed at my bleeding hand.

I was carelessly stabbing the pen nib into my hand, and when I finally noticed, the pain hit me.

"Ahh!" I hissed in pain.

"Uff, where was your attention?" Maseera asked with concern, wrapping her pink handkerchief around my hand. I felt a tear escape from my eye.

"Don't cry, you'll be fine. Let's go to the nurse," she said, still holding my hand.

I just looked at her. These tears weren't because of the pain I was feeling. I don't know if anyone has ever treated me this way when I got hurt—like Maseera is doing.

---

Flashback

8-year-old Mehtab was crying hysterically after fighting with her classmate.

"What happened to my child?" Mehtab's mother asked.

"What happened? Can't you see? Your daughter has hurt my son so badly," the boy's mother said, pointing to a tiny cut on her son's finger.

Mehtab's father looked at her in disbelief and abruptly held her hand.

"Ahhh!" Mehtab cried in pain.

Mehtab's mother tried to come close quickly, but her father stopped her.

"Apologize, Mehtab," he said.

"No, Dad, it's not my fault. He pushed me and tried to get my new sharpener," Mehtab said.

"Look at this, she's so small yet talks so much. My son is bleeding because of her. I'm telling you, send her to a boarding school now. Who knows what she'll do in the future?" the boy's mother said in a disgusted tone.

"She's innocent! Mehtab is saying it was an accident and your son pushed her," Mehtab's mother said.

"Enough!" Mehtab's father shouted, then turned to her mother.

"Ma'am, please forgive us. I apologize on behalf of my daughter."

"But Dad—"

"Shut up, Mehtab. Now sit down," her father said, dragging her toward the car.

"Ahhh! Dad, I'm hurt. It's painful."

"Don't play your drama in front of me, Mehtab. You only know how to bring sorrow to everyone. Today, I had to face a lot of embarrassment because of you," her father said in a strict tone.

---

Flashback ends

"What's wrong, Mehtab?" Maseera asked.

"Nothing, just going to the teacher’s office. She called me, right?" I said and left immediately.

Because if I stayed a little longer, I don’t know if I would be able to stop my tears or not.

I reached the teacher's office and knocked.

"Come in," the teacher said.

When I entered, Izhar was there.

"Mehtab, Izhar will show you around the college, okay?" the teacher said.

I just nodded.

"Let's go," Izhar said without looking at me. I followed him, as he was two steps ahead.

His eyes are round and big, filled with innocence—but that Kumbhkaran’s eyes are small, sharp, and dripping with attitude. His hair is slightly curly and neatly set, but that Kumbhkaran has silky hair, and I don't think he even combs it. He is tall, but not as tall as Kumbhkaran.

Wait... why am I comparing him to Kumbhkaran?

"What's wrong? Why aren't you walking?" Izhar said, turning toward me.

"Nothing."

Why am I getting nervous? I thought to myself.

"Listen, Izhar," I said, trying to match his steps.

"Hmm, go on," he said, still walking.

"The teacher asked you to show me around the college," I said, stopping.

"So?"

"So... we’ve been walking for five minutes."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"But what?"

"Let me give you an overview, alright?" he said, and I nodded instantly.

"Look, this is the 4th floor, where the seniors’ classes are held. I don’t want you to face ragging on the second day, so we’re skipping this floor. On the 3rd floor, there’s the library, canteen, departments, and labs. Our classes are on the 2nd floor. The 1st floor has the auditorium, sports room, and seminar room. Now tell me, which floor do you want to see?"

I listened carefully, and the only thought in my mind was: Yaar, yeh kitna awesome hai.

"3rd floor," I said.

"Okay, let’s go."

"This is the canteen," he said, spreading his hands in the air.

It’s a huge room with several grey dining tables in the middle. The counter is on the left side of the door, with washbasins on the right and drinking water a bit farther away.

"Do you want to go to the counter?" Izhar asked.

"No, not now. I’ll see it during the lunch break," I replied.

"Alright then, let’s go," he said, still not looking at me.

I don’t know what his issue is. He seems bored. We walked a little more and entered through a huge door.

"And this is the library," he said, spreading his hands with excitement and a huge smile.

Wait, it’s a massive smile that even showed his teeth. How did he suddenly change like this?

He walked ahead. This library is huge. Just look at these shelves, filled with so many books.

"Here, you’ll find books on every subject—science, law, medical, history, math, astrology, psychology, and much more," he said in one go.

I looked at him with amusement. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, making me feel ready to read a book too.

"But we’re only in 11th grade. Why do we need so many books?" I asked.

"But being in 11th grade doesn’t mean we can’t read other things. It’s for enjoyment, you know! And yes, we can also prepare for our future," he said, as if giving important information.

He turned right, and my eyes closed briefly due to the bright sunlight in that part of the library. It had two huge shelves, a big window, and a small table for readers. This part was very aesthetic and mesmerizing.

Izhar came in front of me holding a book, leaning a little closer.

"Do you know we have novels here?" he said with a cute smile.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I mean, fictional novels are also available," he explained.

Now I understood why he was so excited—he’s a book lover.

"Do you like to read novels?" I asked.

He smiled like a child and nodded.

"This is my favorite place. If I could, I’d just sit here and read novels all day long."

I chuckled.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was thinking that only girls read novels," I said, immediately feeling bad for saying it.

He looked at me with slight disdain.

"Do you never read novels?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Firstly, gender has nothing to do with reading. And secondly, books take us to a world where we can live as any character we like."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"While I may not know about others, in books there are many characters—and we can live as any character we like."

"What if that character isn’t good or doesn’t have a happy ending?" I asked, trying to understand the depth behind his words.

"In that case, change the character or the book. There’s no need to stress about it. Living as a character doesn’t just mean enjoying their good parts; it also means feeling the hardships they go through. It helps us realize how minimal our struggles are in real life—because the author of our life’s book loves us so much," he said, looking up, as if he was talking to himself.

I couldn’t figure out if he was in a lot of pain—or very content.

"Can I see this book?" I reached out my hand.

He stared at my hand, still wrapped in the handkerchief.

"It’s nothing," I tried to say, thinking he was concerned about it. But he said,

"This is Maseera’s cursive, right?"

I just nodded, feeling embarrassed.

"Now let’s go to the 1st floor since you’ve already seen the 2nd."

We stood in front of a huge closed door.

"This is the sports room. Not many people come here now due to the midterm exams and seniors' finals," he explained as he opened the door and continued,

"But Fadel is—"

Suddenly, something rushed toward me. I flinched, unable to react in time.

"Mehtab, are you okay? Open your eyes."