The next day. Sunday.
That morning felt completely different. No school rush—no crowded classrooms, no buzzing corridors. Such a peaceful morning, as if the city were still half asleep. The usual frenzy of Pratapnagar Girls' High School and Meghmala Girls' High School was absent today. Just the two of them—Anurag Sir and Anirban Sir—had come to a famous open-air restaurant on the fourth floor beside the main road, simply to unwind for a while.
The restaurant's open garden was filled with lush green trees, creepers, and a soft, pollen-scented breeze that felt like late afternoon even in the morning. In the distance came the intermittent chirping of birds, and occasionally the gentle patter of water droplets falling from leaves, carrying a quiet serenity. The tables were arranged beneath large white canvas umbrellas, and small decorative pieces placed around created an even more pleasant, lively atmosphere.
Anirban Sir looked at Anurag Sir and gave a faint smile.
Holding his coffee cup, he said, "No school today—no teaching, no chatter of students—just a completely empty morning. Sitting here in this soft breeze surrounded by greenery, life feels somehow different."
Anurag Sir sat in silence.
Anirban Sir glanced at him and asked, "Hey, why so quiet?"
In a calm, grave voice, Anurag Sir replied, "I actually like being at school."
Anirban Sir was genuinely surprised.
With a small amused smile he said, "Seriously?"
Anurag Sir answered in a very serious tone,
"Yes. What's so surprising about that?"
Anirban Sir started laughing.
"Bro, I get it now—you're never going to bunk school."
Anurag Sir said gravely,
"Yes, of course I won't. What's there to laugh about in that?"
Anirban Sir replied,
"You're right. It's good to have that kind of attachment to school."
Just then, a message arrived on Anirban Sir's phone.
"Sir, today neither my mom nor dad is home. I'm definitely coming to your flat today.
And if you don't take me, you know what will happen."
The moment Basundhara's message appeared on the screen, Anirban Sir's coffee, which had just begun to go down his throat, got stuck somewhere. He immediately set the cup down, but it was too late—his throat suddenly felt rough and dry. A light cough escaped, quickly turning into a heavier one.
Seeing this, Anurag Sir quickly moved closer. His brows furrowed, his face showing deep concern. He placed a light hand on Anirban Sir's shoulder and said, "Hey, what happened? Are you okay?"
He slowly rubbed Anirban Sir's back, as if trying to offer mental support before the choking worsened. Looking into his eyes, Anurag Sir asked, "Did the coffee go down the wrong way? Tell me—can I do something?"
Anirban Sir took a breath and opened his eyes. Anurag Sir's kind presence somewhat eased the burning in his throat.
Helplessly, Anirban Sir said, "I'm fine."
But in his mind he thought: I can't hide this from Anurag anymore. That girl is becoming crazier by the day about coming to the flat.
The next instant he wondered: What exactly does she want? What does she plan to do if she comes to the flat…?
Suddenly the thought of sex flashed through his mind.
He thought to himself—No. No. I'll go mad.
In that single moment, Anirban Sir's mood completely changed. Until now he had been enjoying the restaurant so much. Now he had no appetite for anything. Even the thought of eating whatever was left for dinner at night made his hunger vanish.
************
A little while later.
Suddenly Anurag Sir's gaze fell on a distant table where Sneha had arrived with her aunt, uncle, and Medha.
For the first time, he was seeing Sneha outside her school uniform.
Sneha's ribcage looked as if it had been drawn on thin paper; the lines of her bones caught the eye unexpectedly—slender arms, narrow wrists, fingers that seemed ready to float away in the breeze. Her waist curved so sharply that standing beside her, one felt a slight gust of wind might make her sway. Her stomach was flat, shoulders narrow, legs long and thin—a body sculpted like a statue, as if made not of flesh but of paper.
And yet, amid this delicate, almost fragile bone structure, her breasts suddenly appeared like a startling revelation—abnormally large, firm, a breathtaking wonder of nature.
But no, Sneha's figure was not a classic hourglass. There was no perfect balance between bust and waist. Instead, her body was more triangular—heavy at the top, light at the bottom. Yet the sheer size of her breasts made this disproportion striking, unique, irresistibly captivating. Once seen, it was impossible to forget. That very feature set her apart from everyone else.
She wore a light cream-colored top that ended right at her waist. The fabric was thin, soft, and body-hugging—silently revealing every curve, every line. The material stretched taut across her chest, as if announcing that concealment was impossible.
Her blue jeans clung perfectly to her legs, yet somehow still looked loose—because her long legs were impossibly thin. From thigh to ankle, they were so slender that one might easily think "chicken legs!" Her shoes looked oversized, and the denim formed soft folds over the bones.
To Anurag Sir, Sneha's body seemed like a play of shadows and lines: thin limbs and narrow waist contrasted with the sudden explosion of her bust—an astonishing artistic form.
---
Medha had just sat down a little ahead. Her aunt took out tissues from her bag, while Sneha quietly searched for her chair. There was shyness in the way she sat. She knew someone was always watching her. Today, at her aunt's insistence, she had worn the new cream top; otherwise she usually wrapped a jacket over her tops.
Holding the armrest, she sat slightly tilted, and in the play of light and shadow, the disproportion of her body became even more evident.
When her aunt asked something, she nodded in reply. Medha watched her quietly, a trace of envy in her gaze.
---
Anurag Sir was staring fixedly at Sneha. In the restaurant's soft lighting, she looked even more radiant, even more alluring. The extraordinary incompleteness of her body—the extreme thinness combined with the startling prominence of her breasts—created a strange, almost primal sexual appeal. She sat quietly, looking at no one.
Suddenly Anurag Sir's trance broke. His eyes slowly swept around the restaurant. Almost every man's gaze was stuck on Sneha. Their looks were filled with lust. Seeing such lecherous stares directed at a teenage girl made Anurag Sir's chest tighten with pain. His heart burned.
But what tore him apart from the inside was the gaze of his best friend, Anirban Sir, sitting right beside him.
When Anurag Sir looked at Anirban Sir, he saw that he too was staring at Sneha—eyes wide, completely still, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
Anurag Sir could bear it no longer.
In a rough voice he said,
"Anirban!"
Startled by the sudden call, Anirban Sir's concentration broke. He looked at Anurag Sir in surprise.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
Anurag Sir asked sharply,
"Why are you staring at that girl?"
Anirban Sir looked slightly flustered. With an awkward smile he said,
"No, no… I mean… I was actually looking at that… that little girl over there. (pointing toward Medha)
I recognized her. She studies at our school. My student."
Anurag Sir's gaze sharpened.
In a cold voice, with clear anger in his eyes, he said,
"The girl you were staring at… she studies at our school. My student."
A moment of silence.
Anirban Sir now realized what mistake he had made.
In a voice cold yet cutting like a lash, Anurag Sir said,
"Don't look at her again. Understood?"
Anirban Sir lowered his head.
In his mind he thought: So this is the girl Anurag was talking about! She really is something else! I've never seen anything like this before. For some reason, I feel like Anurag has feelings for her.
To be continued...