Navran Public School had always presented itself as an institution of discipline, but today, that illusion was being stretched to its limits. The annual inspection was more than a formality; it was a day of masks, where every crack in the school's facade was hastily covered by garlands and forced smiles.
Banners of bright blue and gold flapped lazily against the railings of the main building, their edges frayed from years of overuse. Teachers, who usually lounged in staff rooms sipping tea, now barked orders with the urgency of battlefield commanders. Students were being shuffled into lines, dusters were flying across window panes, and the faint smell of hastily applied floor polish lingered in the air.
Aarav Sen stepped off Bus No. 7 with his usual slouch, one hand buried in his pocket, the other lazily adjusting the strap of his schoolbag. His hair was a deliberate mess, his uniform creased just enough to annoy the inspection squad.
But beneath his carefully crafted image of indifference, something had changed.
His steps were smoother. More balanced.
He didn't stumble off the last step of the bus. He didn't need to adjust his footing on the uneven pavement. His body moved with a quiet precision, aligning itself unconsciously with every stride.
He didn't notice.
But Anaya Rathore did.
She stood a few meters ahead, clipboard in hand, issuing instructions to a group of nervous juniors who were fumbling with the welcome board. Her braid was tight, her posture immaculate, and her eyes, though seemingly focused on the chaos before her, flickered towards Aarav the moment he stepped off the bus.
She watched.
Just for a second.
Sen wasn't stumbling today.
But she didn't have time to analyze. Not now.
Her attention snapped back to the juniors as she adjusted a slightly misaligned banner.
"Sen! You alive, or just floating through life again?"
The familiar voice sliced through the morning tension.
Kunal Deshmukh.
Aarav's expression softened as his only genuine friend emerged from the crowd, grinning with the kind of ease that defied the day's manufactured discipline. His tie was loosely knotted, his shirt untucked on one side, and his badge sat askew on his chest.
"Skipped school yesterday—my cousin's wedding. Couldn't dodge that one, you know," Kunal announced, clapping a hand onto Aarav's back.
Aarav smirked. "They let you out alive? Miracles do happen."
Kunal chuckled. "Survived the family politics. Came back for the real battlefield."
Their banter flowed easily, a welcome contrast to the stiffness that hung over the school grounds.
All around them, the school was a flurry of forced perfection. Prefects were adjusting the alignment of lines, teachers were meticulously inspecting every inch of the courtyard, and Principal Mehra's voice echoed over the speakers, reminding everyone to maintain decorum.
But amidst the orchestrated chaos, Kunal's presence grounded Aarav.
"You missed Rathore's drill parade yesterday," Aarav said, nodding towards Anaya, who was now fixing the welcome board with surgical precision.
Kunal followed his gaze and whistled. "She looks like she's preparing for a military inspection, not a school one. Bet she has a checklist on how we should blink today."
Aarav smirked. "Wouldn't surprise me."
Their footsteps synced as they walked towards the assembly area. Aarav noticed, with mild irritation, how his steps matched Kunal's without effort. His balance felt eerily precise, his body adjusting seamlessly to every minor shift in terrain.
Kunal, oblivious to Aarav's internal struggle, continued his commentary.
"So, what's the plan today, Sen? Fake attention during assembly, zone out during speeches, and survive Rathore's glares?"
"Sounds about right," Aarav replied, though his mind was distracted.
He flexed his fingers against the strap of his bag. The synthetic fabric pressed back with an exaggerated texture, every thread pronounced against his skin.
The sensory details were too vivid.
They reached the main corridor, where a group of juniors rehearsed a welcome chant, their voices overlapping in nervous whispers. Aarav's ears picked up every syllable, every mispronounced word, as if the sound waves were being delivered directly into his brain.
He clenched his jaw, pushing the details aside.
"Deshmukh, Sen, stop loitering and move to your lines."
Anaya's voice was sharp, controlled, but her eyes lingered on Aarav for a moment longer than necessary.
Kunal offered a theatrical salute. "Yes, Captain Rathore."
Aarav responded with a lazy wave, hiding his discomfort beneath a practiced smirk.
They made their way to the assembly area, where the rest of their class was already lined up. Students stood in straight rows, their uniforms meticulously arranged, their faces masked with forced enthusiasm.
Aarav stepped into position beside Kunal, his body aligning perfectly with the line. His posture straightened of its own accord, his shoulders squaring, spine erect.
He noticed.
And immediately forced himself to slouch, exaggerating his usual careless stance.
Kunal leaned in, whispering, "I think Rathore's going to explode if you keep slouching like that."
Aarav grinned. "Let her try."
The school bell rang, sharp and commanding, signaling the official start of the inspection.
From the corner of his eye, Aarav saw Anaya directing a group of prefects with clinical efficiency. Her eyes scanned the assembly like a hawk, ensuring every pleat was perfect, every badge aligned.
But every few seconds, her gaze flickered back to him.
Kunal nudged his elbow. "Dude, why is she checking you out like you're the next inspection target?"
Aarav shrugged. "Habit. She can't function unless she's scolding me."
But deep down, Aarav knew today wasn't normal.
He could feel it.
The inspection hadn't even started, and yet, his body was operating on a different frequency.
Every breath he took felt calculated, his muscles responding with a responsiveness that wasn't natural.
He ground his heel into the tiled floor, searching for the familiar creak or slight imbalance.
Nothing.
His stance was perfect.
He hated it.
But the game was survival.
He adjusted his posture, slouching just enough to maintain the illusion.
The Principal's voice echoed over the speakers again, welcoming the inspection committee.
Kunal leaned closer. "Bet you twenty bucks Rathore gets a gold star today."
Aarav smirked. "Only if we survive without detention."
The assembly was beginning.
And so was Aarav's quiet battle with himself.
Today, the mask had to hold.
Because even though the school was pretending for the inspectors, Aarav Sen was pretending for himself.