Upal
No one ever sat next to Upal. It wasn’t a rule. No teacher said it. But everyone in the class understood it without speaking. If you valued your peace, you stayed far away from him. Upal had a way of making people feel small. He didn’t shout—he didn’t need to. A single look from him, sharp and cold, could silence an entire conversation. And when he spoke, it was always something cutting. “Did you even think before saying that?” “Or is being clueless your talent?” That morning, the classroom buzzed with noise until the door creaked open. A girl stepped in. She looked out of place immediately—soft eyes, neat uniform, clutching her books like they were something precious. Her name, written on the attendance sheet, was Amara. “Innocent” was the word people would later use. She smiled at the class. No one smiled back. “Take a seat,” the teacher said, scanning the room. There was only one empty chair. Next to Upal. A quiet wave of pity passed th
About Upal
No one ever sat next to Upal. It wasn’t a rule. No teacher said it. But everyone in the class understood it without speaking. If you valued your peace, you stayed far away from him. Upal had a way of making people feel small. He didn’t shout—he didn’t need to. A single look from him, sharp and cold, could silence an entire conversation. And...Read more