Late Again
The shrill sound of an alarm sliced through the silence of the room.
A girl stirred beneath the covers, blindly reaching toward the bedside table. Her fingers fumbled around until they found her phone. She pulled it closer, her eyes barely open.
7:30 a.m.
For a brief second, her sleepy brain refused to process the numbers.
Then it did.
She bolted upright.
“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Throwing the blanket aside, she groaned, running a hand through her messy hair.
“I knew I should’ve woken up when the first alarm rang.”
Without another second to waste, she grabbed a towel from the chair and disappeared into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped back into her room, freshly showered. Droplets of water clung to the ends of her damp hair as she stood in front of the mirror, absentmindedly brushing it into a simple ponytail. A few loose strands escaped almost immediately.
She stared at her reflection for a second before shrugging.
“Good enough.”
After slipping into her neatly ironed school uniform, she adjusted her tie, picked up her wristwatch from the study table, and was about to sling her backpack over her shoulder when something caught her eye.
A small spiral diary.
“...Right.”
She walked over to the desk and flipped it open.
Every crochet order she’d accepted was neatly written inside, each with its own deadline.
Her gaze landed on today’s page.
Today’s Orders
Panda Plushie — Deliver at school.
Four Bow Keychains.
“...Oh no.”
She’d completely forgotten to pack the panda plushie.
Turning toward the shelf beside her bed, she picked up the tiny black-and-white plushie she’d finished the previous night.
“Sorry, little guy. You almost got left behind.”
She carefully placed it inside a kraft box before adding a handwritten thank-you card.
Thank you for supporting my small business. I hope this brings a smile to your day. ♡
She sealed it neatly and slipped it into a tote bag.
One order down.
Her eyes returned to the diary.
Four Bow Keychains.
She unlocked her phone and opened the order details.
The customer’s address appeared on the screen.
“Hm...”
It was only a few streets away from her school.
“Perfect.”
She could finish crocheting them during her free periods and deliver them after school.
Opening one of the storage drawers beneath her desk, she gathered everything she’d need—cream and pastel pink yarn, her crochet hook, stitch markers, scissors, and a small pouch containing the remaining materials.
Everything disappeared neatly into her backpack.
Only then did she glance at the clock.
8:00 a.m.
“...Seriously?”
Almost as if on cue, a familiar voice echoed from downstairs.
“Kiara!” her mother called. “If you don’t leave now, you’ll miss the first period again!”
“I’m coming!”
Kiara hurried downstairs two steps at a time.
The aroma of freshly toasted bread greeted her the moment she entered the dining room.
Her mother looked up from the kitchen and sighed.
“Do you know what being on time means?”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“I just don’t practice it.”
Her mother gave her a look that said she’d heard that excuse far too many times.
“Sit down and eat.”
Kiara grabbed a slice of toast, folded it into four, stuffed the pieces into her mouth all at once, and reached for her water bottle.
Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Kiara, that’s not breakfast.”
“Mmph.”
“It certainly isn’t an answer either.”
A quiet snort came from the other end of the table.
Her older brother looked up from his phone with a grin.
“You know... alarms are supposed to wake people up.”
Kiara narrowed her eyes.
“They did.”
“So why are you still late every single morning?”
Without missing a beat, she walked over and smacked the back of his head.
“Ow!”
“Mind your business.”
“My business is watching your daily speedrun to school.”
She rolled her eyes, grabbed her backpack and the tote bag containing the panda plushie, then hurried toward the front door.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!”
“Have a good day!” her father called from the living room.
“And don’t forget your lunch this time!” her mother added.
Kiara checked the tote bag hanging from her shoulder.
Panda plushie.
Crochet materials.
Lunch.
Phone.
Good enough.
She slipped on her shoes, waved one last time, and hurried out of the house, already mentally calculating how late she’d be by the time she reached school.
The morning breeze greeted Kiara the moment she stepped out onto the pavement.
She adjusted the straps of her backpack before breaking into a light jog, the tote bag containing the panda plushie swinging gently against her side.
She didn’t have to walk far before a familiar figure came into view.
Leaning casually against the school’s front gate, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers while the other lazily scrolled through his phone, stood Akash Krishnan.
If there was one person who had witnessed every chaotic morning of Kiara Menon’s life, it was him.
Her best friend.
The person she’d known for as long as she could remember.
The person who never failed to annoy her before eight in the morning.
As if sensing her presence, Akash looked up.
His eyes immediately landed on her.
Then, without a hint of surprise, he glanced at the time displayed on his wristwatch.
8:13 a.m.
He sighed.
“As usual.”
Kiara slowed to a stop in front of him, trying to catch her breath.
“What?”
“Late.”
“I know.”
“We’re definitely getting scolded today.”
“I know.”
“And the first period is mathematics.”
“...I know.”
Akash folded his arms.
“You do realize Mr. Dev Chua already has a personal grudge against you, right?”
Kiara let out a dramatic groan.
“Please don’t remind me.”
Mr. Dev Chua wasn’t the type of teacher students could charm with excuses.
He believed punctuality reflected discipline, discipline reflected character, and mathematics reflected intelligence.
Unfortunately for Kiara, she was terrible at the first, questionable at the second, and hopeless at the third.
Every time Kiara walked into class late, Mr. Chua somehow looked even more disappointed than the previous day.
At this point, Kiara was convinced the man had memorized her schedule better than she had.
Akash pushed himself away from the gate.
“I hope you’ve prepared a new excuse.”
“I’ve already used ‘my alarm didn’t ring.’”
“And ‘my bus was late.’”
“And ‘I forgot my notebook.’”
“Come on, Shortie. If we’re getting lectured, we might as well get there before the lecture gets longer.”, Akash said smiling
Rolling her eyes, Kiara fell into step beside him as the two hurried toward the school building together.
The corridor outside Class 11-A buzzed with the usual Monday morning chatter.
Students hurried to their seats as the warning bell echoed through the hallway.
Kiara slowed to a stop just outside the classroom.
Her eyes instinctively drifted toward the second row by the windows.
There he was.
Advik Nair.
Even with his head lowered, scribbling something into a notebook, he somehow managed to look... effortlessly put together.
His tie was perfectly straight, and his dark hair looked as though it had been styled without actually trying.
He wasn’t talking to anyone.
He rarely did before class.
Instead, he sat quietly, one hand supporting his chin while the other moved across the page with quick, precise strokes.
Probably solving a math problem.
Or creating a new one.
Kiara had never asked.
Not that she had the courage to.
She wondered if he’d always looked this...
No.
Stop.
Her heart had absolutely no business doing somersaults at eight in the morning.
A finger snapped right in front of her face.
“Welcome back to Earth.”
Kiara blinked.
Akash stood beside her with his arms folded, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“You done admiring him from the doorway?”
“I wasn’t admiring anyone.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’ve been standing here for twenty seconds.”
“...Have I?”
Akash sighed dramatically.
“One day you’ll realize staring doesn’t magically make him fall in love with you.”
Kiara elbowed him.
“Shut up.”
Before Akash could say another word, a familiar voice cut through the corridor.
“Mr. Krishnan. Miss Menon.”
Both of them froze.
Standing near the teacher’s desk, a stack of answer scripts tucked beneath one arm, was Mr. Dev Chua.
The mathematics teacher.
A man whose neatly pressed shirts, perfectly combed hair, and unwavering punctuality made students believe he probably solved equations for fun during weekends.
He glanced once at the clock mounted above the whiteboard.
Then back at the two of them.
“Care to explain why you’re late?”
Kiara smiled awkwardly.
“Sir... there was...”
She paused.
“...traffic?”
Mr. Chua looked at her.
Then looked through the classroom window.
The road outside was practically empty.
“Interesting.”
Kiara cleared her throat.
“I mean—”
Akash stepped forward.
“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Mr. Chua nodded once.
“See that it doesn’t.”
Kiara slowly turned toward Akash.
He avoided her eyes.
Traitor.
Sensing the glare burning into the side of his face, Akash merely shrugged before the corner of his lips curled into the tiniest smirk.
Kiara resisted the overwhelming urge to step on his shoe.
“Take your seats,” Mr. Chua said.
“Thank you, sir,” Akash replied.
Kiara muttered a reluctant, “Thank you...”
The two hurried to their desks.
As soon as Kiara sat down, she instinctively glanced toward the window again.
Advik hadn’t even looked up.
Of course he hadn’t.
Why would he?
Mr. Chua resumed distributing the remaining answer sheets one by one.
A few relieved sighs escaped around the classroom.
A few disappointed groans followed.
Within moments, every paper had found its owner.
Except one.
Mr. Chua held up the final answer sheet between two fingers.
“Hm.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“I would like everyone to take a moment to appreciate today’s... remarkable performance.”
The classroom fell silent.
Kiara’s stomach dropped.
No.
Please don’t be—
Mr. Chua looked at the paper.
“I’ve often said that mathematics is a language.”
He paused.
“It appears one student has decided not to speak it at all.”
A few quiet chuckles rippled across the room.
Kiara slowly lowered her head onto the desk.
Please.
Not today.
Not in front of—
“Our star performer,” Mr. Chua continued dryly, “has successfully secured...”
He turned the paper around.
“...nine marks out of one hundred.”
More laughter echoed through the classroom.
“Miss Kiara Menon.”
Kiara wished, with every fibre of her being, that the classroom floor would split open.
She slowly stood up.
“Yes, sir...”
Mr. Chua walked over and handed her the paper.
A bold, unmistakable 9/100 stared back at her in bright red ink.
“I must congratulate your confidence,” he said.
“Attempting every question despite knowing almost none of the answers is... admirable.”
Another wave of laughter swept across the room.
Kiara forced a weak smile.
“Thank you... sir.”
She wasn’t sure why she’d thanked him.
Maybe because her brain had stopped functioning.
Maybe because she could physically feel the embarrassment crawling up her neck.
Or maybe...
Because somewhere in the same classroom...
Advik Nair had just witnessed the most humiliating moment of her academic life.
She stole the quickest glance in his direction.
Only to find him quietly looking down at his own answer sheet, completely absorbed in whatever score he’d received.
He hadn’t laughed.
He hadn’t reacted.
If anything...
He hadn’t even noticed her.
