THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US

The first rule Hania Siddiqui had made about Zayan Ahmed Mirza was simple:

Never trust him when he says, “I have an idea.”

The second rule was even simpler.

Never, under any circumstances, let him convince you that his idea was harmless.

Unfortunately, Hania had forgotten both rules that morning.

It was a bright Monday, the kind of morning that began peacefully and had every intention of remaining that way.

At least, that was what Hania had believed when she walked through the school gates.

Her uniform was perfectly pressed. Her white socks were clean. Her shoes had been polished that morning, and her books were arranged inside her bag exactly the way she liked them.

She had finished her homework.

She had packed her lunch.

She had even remembered the science project her teacher had reminded everyone about three times.

For once, everything was under control.

Then she saw Zayan.

He was standing near the school corridor with his tie hanging loosely around his neck, one sleeve slightly rolled up and his hair in complete rebellion against the laws of combing.

Hania stopped.

She stared at him.

Zayan smiled.

That smile was enough.

Her peaceful morning had officially ended.

She walked toward him slowly.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

Hania looked at his untucked shirt.

Then at his untied shoelaces.

Then at the notebook sticking out of his bag upside down.

“Clearly.”

Zayan glanced down at himself as though noticing his appearance for the first time.

“I was in a hurry.”

“You're always in a hurry.”

“That's because I'm important.”

“You're late.”

“Important people are often late.”

Hania rolled her eyes and reached for his tie.

“Stand still.”

“I can do it myself.”

“You've been doing it yourself for three years.”

“And?”

“And it still looks like this.”

She pulled the knot into place.

Zayan patiently allowed her to fix it, watching her with an amused expression.

When she stepped back, she noticed a small streak of something dark near his cheek.

She frowned.

“What is that?”

He touched his face.

“Where?”

“There.”

He wiped it.

The mark only became worse.

Hania stared at him.

Zayan stared back.

Then she laughed.

“What's funny?”

“You look ridiculous.”

He looked offended.

“I always look good.”

“You look like you fell into a chimney.”

He wiped his cheek again.

This time, Hania caught his wrist.

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“Because you're making it worse.”

She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and cleaned the mark from his face.

Zayan watched quietly.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

Then he smiled.

“You carry a handkerchief for me?”

“No. I carry one because unlike you, I prepare for disasters.”

“Same thing.”

She pushed him away.

“Go to class.”

He followed her.

Of course he did.

He always did.

---

By the time they reached their classroom, the first bell had already rung.

Their classmates were settling into their seats, and their teacher was arranging a stack of notebooks on the desk.

Hania immediately took her seat.

Zayan sat beside her.

He leaned toward her.

“Did you bring the science project?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She turned toward him.

“Why?”

He smiled.

That smile again.

Hania narrowed her eyes.

“Zayan.”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you ask?”

“Just asking.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You're planning something.”

“I'm offended that you think so little of me.”

“I think exactly enough of you.”

Before he could respond, the teacher entered.

The class went silent.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Then the teacher announced that everyone would be presenting their science projects that morning.

Hania slowly turned her head.

Zayan suddenly became very interested in his notebook.

She whispered, “You didn't make yours.”

He whispered back, “I was going to.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“You were playing cricket.”

“That was research.”

“For what?”

“Gravity.”

Hania stared at him.

He shrugged.

She tried very hard not to laugh.

The teacher began calling students one by one.

Hania presented hers first.

It was neat, carefully labeled, and exactly what the teacher had asked for.

Zayan watched from his seat with an expression that suggested he was genuinely impressed.

When she returned, he whispered, “Very professional.”

“Thank you.”

“I especially liked the part where you did my work too.”

Hania frowned.

“What?”

He pointed toward the project.

There, tucked beneath the cardboard display, was a small paper model she had made for him the previous evening after he had complained that he didn't understand the assignment.

She had forgotten it was there.

She looked at him.

He smiled innocently.

“You said you'd help me.”

“I said I'd explain it.”

“You explained it very thoroughly.”

“I did not make your project.”

“You basically did.”

Hania opened her mouth to argue.

The teacher called Zayan's name.

He stood.

There was a pause.

He looked toward his empty hands.

Then toward Hania.

Then toward the teacher.

His confidence disappeared.

The entire class was watching.

“Where is your project?” the teacher asked.

Zayan cleared his throat.

“I brought it.”

Hania's eyes widened.

No.

He hadn't.

He absolutely hadn't.

The teacher waited.

Zayan slowly reached into his bag.

He pulled out a crumpled notebook.

Then a pencil case.

Then a half-eaten packet of biscuits.

Then—

Hania covered her mouth.

He had brought everything except the project.

The class erupted in laughter.

Even the teacher struggled to keep a straight face.

Zayan stood there with the dignity of a man whose entire reputation had collapsed in under ten seconds.

Then his eyes landed on Hania.

She was laughing.

Not quietly.

Not politely.

Completely.

He pointed at her.

“You.”

That only made her laugh harder.

---

By lunch break, Zayan had decided revenge was necessary.

Hania should have known.

She should have been careful.

Instead, she sat beneath the shade near the playground, opened her lunchbox, and relaxed for exactly three seconds.

Then something landed beside her.

She looked down.

A small folded piece of paper.

She opened it.

URGENT.

Hania frowned.

She unfolded the rest.

Look behind you.

She turned.

Nothing.

She looked back at Zayan.

He was sitting several feet away, eating his lunch with the most innocent expression she had ever seen.

She stared at him.

He ignored her.

Hania looked at the paper again.

There was another line underneath.

You have been chosen.

Her eyebrows lifted.

Chosen for what?

Before she could think, one of their classmates rushed past them.

“Zayan!”

Zayan stood up.

“What?”

“Did you do it?”

He grinned.

Hania's stomach dropped.

“Do what?”

Neither boy answered.

They simply ran.

Hania stared after them.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

She closed her lunchbox and followed.

---

Five minutes later, Hania found herself standing in front of the classroom noticeboard with Zayan beside her.

Someone had pinned a ridiculous handwritten announcement in the middle of the board.

It was titled:

THE OFFICIAL LIST OF CLASSROOM CRIMINALS

And somehow, Hania's name was at the top.

Her eyes widened.

“Zayan.”

He was already laughing.

“You're number one.”

“Why am I number one?”

“Because you're terrifying.”

She turned toward him.

“You made this?”

“Technically, we made this.”

“We?”

He pointed toward their classmates.

Hania looked around.

Everyone suddenly became extremely interested in their own conversations.

She folded her arms.

“So that's it?”

Zayan's laughter slowed.

He knew that look.

She was angry.

Not actually angry.

But angry enough.

He took one step backward.

“Hania…”

She took one step forward.

“Run.”

His eyes widened.

Then he ran.

Hania chased him through the corridor.

Their classmates burst into laughter.

Someone shouted after them.

A teacher stepped out of another classroom just in time to see Zayan disappearing around the corner with Hania close behind.

“Zayan Ahmed Mirza!”

He ran faster.

Hania followed.

And somewhere between the corridor, the staircase, and the back courtyard, the punishment waiting for both of them became inevitable.

Neither knew it yet.

But their little chase had just turned into something much bigger than either of them had planned.

Because when they finally stopped running, breathless and laughing, they discovered something waiting for them near the old classroom door.

Something neither of them had put there.

Something that had their names written across it.

Hania's laughter disappeared.

Zayan looked at the envelope.

Then at her.

For once, neither of them made a joke.

The corridor had suddenly become very quiet.

And neither of them knew who had left it there.