The classroom had moved on.
The test was over.
The marks were announced.
The chapter was finished.
At least for everyone else.
---
For Anaya, it followed her home.
---
The evening sunlight slipped through the window and stretched across her study table.
Books.
Rough copies.
Loose sheets.
A half-empty water bottle.
Everything sat exactly where it always did.
---
Anaya dropped her bag onto the chair.
Pulled out her Mathematics notebook.
Opened it.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
---
The first page she saw wasn't even today's lesson.
It was the mock test chapter.
---
Her eyes landed on the same topic.
Quadratic equations.
Roots.
Conditions.
Discriminants.
---
She stared at the page.
Then reached for her pen.
---
At the top she wrote:
Condition before applying the sum of roots formula
---
A second later she wrote:
For a quadratic equation,
ax^2 + bx + c = 0
the coefficient of x² must not be zero.
Otherwise the equation is no longer quadratic.
---
The pen stopped.
---
Silence.
---
That was it.
That missing line.
---
"Anything else?"
---
Anaya dropped the pen.
---
"What else?" she muttered.
---
The answer was sitting there now.
Neat.
Simple.
Obvious.
---
And somehow that made it more annoying.
---
She flipped the page.
---
If the coefficient of x² becomes zero, can the equation still be called quadratic?
No.
Because the highest degree becomes one.
The equation becomes linear.
---
She stared at the answer.
---
Then looked away.
---
Then looked back.
---
A small crease appeared between her eyebrows.
---
The question wasn't impossible.
The answer wasn't impossible either.
---
So why had she stopped?
---
Her fingers tapped the notebook.
Once.
Twice.
---
The classroom replayed again.
---
"A n y t h i n g e l s e ?"
---
Her jaw tightened.
---
The page turned sharply.
---
Next formula.
Next derivation.
Next question.
---
She forced herself to continue.
---
Five minutes later she was reading the same paragraph for the third time.
---
Nothing stayed.
---
A frustrated sigh escaped.
---
She leaned back.
Closed the notebook.
Opened it again.
---
The chapter was still there.
Waiting.
---
And somehow the mock test was there too.
---
A voice echoed again.
---
"Good."
---
Naina.
Standing.
Nineteen.
---
Then—
---
"Anaya."
Nine.
---
The next name immediately after.
---
No pause.
---
No comment.
---
No expression.
---
Nothing.
---
The notebook snapped shut.
---
"What exactly is your problem with me?"
The words slipped out before she realized it.
---
The room remained silent.
---
She stared at the wall for several seconds.
---
Then shook her head.
---
Ridiculous.
---
Why was she even thinking about it?
---
It was just a test.
---
People forgot tests every day.
---
Yet she was sitting here replaying one word answers and missing marks like they mattered.
---
The irritation only grew.
---
She opened the notebook again.
---
This time Physics.
---
A chapter waited.
Motion.
Velocity.
Acceleration.
---
Finally.
Something different.
---
She started reading.
---
The first page went smoothly.
The second too.
---
Halfway through the third—
---
"Anything else?"
---
Anaya closed the book.
---
Immediately.
---
The sound echoed through the room.
---
"Khadoos."
---
The word escaped before she could stop it.
---
A second later she rolled her eyes at herself.
---
Now she was insulting people while studying.
Wonderful.
---
A knock sounded at the door.
---
Her younger sister peeked inside.
---
"Studying?"
---
"No."
---
The answer came so quickly that her sister laughed.
---
"You literally have books open."
---
Anaya looked at the Physics book.
Then at the Mathematics notebook.
Then at the rough copy.
---
"Unfortunately."
---
Her sister stepped inside.
---
"Test?"
---
"Hm."
---
"Bad?"
---
"No."
---
"Then why do you look like that?"
---
Anaya frowned.
---
"What do I look like?"
---
"Like someone stole your notes."
---
"No one stole my notes."
---
"Then your marks?"
---
"No."
---
"Then what happened?"
---
Anaya opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
---
Nothing happened.
That was the irritating part.
---
Nothing happened.
---
A test.
Some questions.
Some marks.
The end.
---
So why was she annoyed?
---
"I don't know."
---
Her sister stared at her.
---
"You definitely know."
---
"I don't."
---
The reply came faster this time.
---
Her sister laughed.
---
"Fine."
---
She walked toward the door.
---
Then stopped.
---
"By the way."
---
"What?"
---
"You've been staring at the same page for ten minutes."
---
Anaya immediately looked down at the notebook.
---
The page hadn't changed.
---
Not even once.
---
Her sister left.
Still laughing.
---
The room became quiet again.
---
Anaya rubbed her forehead.
---
Then returned to Mathematics.
---
One question.
Then another.
Then another.
---
This time she solved everything carefully.
---
Step by step.
---
Condition.
Formula.
Exception.
Result.
---
No missing lines.
No forgotten points.
---
Half an hour later the rough page was filled.
---
She checked every answer again.
---
Everything looked correct.
---
Yet the irritation remained.
---
Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the page.
---
Nine.
---
The score wasn't written there.
---
But it might as well have been.
---
She could still hear it.
---
Nine.
---
Then Naina.
Nineteen.
---
"Good."
---
The notebook closed again.
---
Maybe the questions had been normal.
---
Maybe everyone got similar ones.
---
Maybe she was overthinking.
---
A few seconds passed.
---
Then another thought appeared.
---
What if she wasn't?
---
Her fingers stopped.
---
The classroom replayed again.
---
Naina's questions.
Her own questions.
The pauses.
The marks.
---
For a moment she stared at the table.
---
Then immediately shook the thought away.
---
No.
---
That was stupid.
---
She had no idea what everyone else was thinking.
No idea why marks were given.
No idea how questions were chosen.
---
Maybe it was random.
---
Maybe it wasn't.
---
She didn't know.
---
And somehow that was even more annoying.
---
The clock ticked quietly.
---
Outside, evening slowly faded.
---
Inside, the books remained open.
---
The formulas remained unfinished.
---
And somewhere between Mathematics and Physics—
between conditions, roots, marks, and questions—
the same thought returned once more.
---
"What exactly is your problem with me?"
---
This time there was no answer.
Just silence.
And another page waiting to be studied.