Aalam asked again, louder this time, her voice curling around the words like smoke. The sophomore beside her swallowed hard, gripping her notebook tighter, but said nothing. Aalam sighed dramatically, tossing her braid over one shoulder as she leaned back in her chair. "Guess that means we're free to go." She stretched her arms above her head, the hem of her kurtha riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of sun-warmed skin.
The lecture hall remained frozen—no one moved, no one breathed. Even Mariyam, halfway through packing her bag, hesitated, her fingers hovering over a half-written note. Aalam smirked, tapping her phone against her knee. "What, you all need a permission slip?" She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor with a sound like a challenge.
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