She was his teacher today but years ago 2

ajab refused to speak to anyone—not even his father. Yawar looked after him, enrolling him in college for first year. His stellar matric results earned him admission instantly, though he had lost five precious years.

Once a top student, Rajab now barely scraped passing marks. Older than his classmates, he sat silently at the back, detached from everyone. Yawar cooked for him, cared for him, tried to cheer him up—but Rajab was a man broken from within.

He completed first year somehow, and just two months before his second-year exams, life brought a new twist.The Silent Bond

“Mr. Furqan, I cannot grant you leave. The students will suffer. I’m sorry!” the college principal said firmly.

Professor Furqan pleaded—he needed two months off for throat surgery.

“Then perhaps there’s only one solution,” the principal suggested.

“What solution?”

“Send your daughter in your place as an English teacher for two months. She’s brilliant, a university topper. I’m sure she’ll manage well. No one outside needs to know.”

“But sir, she hasn’t even completed her graduation yet!”

“She’s in her final year. I’ve taught her myself. Trust me, she can handle it.”

Professor Furqan left, troubled. The thought of his daughter facing a class full of college boys terrified him, but there was no other way.

@@@@@

Rajab sat in the last row, chewing his pen absentmindedly. The classroom buzzed with excitement—the new English teacher was about to arrive.

Moments later, silence fell. A tall, graceful young woman entered with the principal. Rajab looked up—and froze.

That face. Familiar. Painfully familiar.

“Students, this is your new English teacher, Miss Kissa Furqan. She has done her M.A. in English and will guide you well,” the principal lied smoothly.

Rajab smirked. M.A.? Impossible. Six years ago, she was only in ninth grade. By his calculation, she should be in her final year now.

Kissa hadn’t yet noticed him. She began introductions, one by one, moving from bench to bench. Finally, she reached the last row.

“Son, what is your name?” she asked firmly.

“Rajab.”

He lowered the book from his face.

Kissa gasped. Her heart raced. She knew this boy. But how was he here—in second year?

“Miss, don’t call him son. He looks old enough to be your elder brother!” a student joked.

She glared at the boy, turned swiftly to the board, and began writing. Her hands trembled slightly.

@@@@@

Later that day, she found him sitting alone in an empty classroom. Her steps echoed as she walked in.

“Listen!” she said coldly.

Rajab looked up slowly. His face carried the same sharp features she remembered, but older now, touched with an unspoken grief.

“You were my senior,” she said, arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

“Why don’t you answer first?” he replied calmly, with a faint smirk. “How are you my junior, yet standing here as a teacher?”

His sarcasm stung. She fell silent, looking away.

“Look, it’s a secret—between us only. No one else should know,” she warned.

“Fine,” he said. “But then keep my secret too—why I’m here despite being your senior.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You deserved what happened to you. If I had kept waiting for you that day, I might have fallen into the wrong hands.”

He flinched, then spoke softly: “I had an accident. I was in a coma. For five years.”

The words hit her like a thunderclap. She stared at him, her lips trembling.

“Oh my God… I’m so sorry. I misunderstood you.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “From now on, you’re my teacher. And I’m your student. That’s the only truth.”

He walked past her, leaving her frozen in shock.

@@@@@

The following weeks were like walking on a knife’s edge.

In class, Kissa taught passionately, hiding her inner turmoil. But every time Rajab’s deep voice answered her questions, her heart quivered.

“Tell me, students,” she asked one morning, “What do you think ambition can do to a man?”

The class fell silent. Then Rajab spoke.

“It can destroy him… and everyone he loves.”

His words cut through her like glass. She realized he wasn’t quoting Shakespeare—he was speaking of himself.

@@@@@

That evening, Kissa sat by her father’s bedside. He was recovering, smiling proudly.

“You’re doing well, my daughter. The principal says the students admire you.”

She smiled faintly, but her heart whispered: If only you knew the storm I’m hiding.

@@@@@

One afternoon, Rajab slipped a folded note onto her desk: “Meet me in the library at 5. It’s important.”

Her hands shook, but she went.

The library was quiet, glowing with golden sunlight. Rajab stood by the window.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said softly. “I just want you to know—I never forgot you. Even when I was lying in that hospital bed, your face haunted me.”

Her breath caught.

“Rajab… I thought you betrayed me. I hated you for years.”

“I know. But fate was cruel. I lost five years. And you… you learned to survive without me.”

Silence hung between them, heavy and aching.

“You’re my teacher now,” he whispered. “But in my heart, you’ll always be the girl I once promised to protect.”

Tears burned her eyes. She turned away.

@@@@@

Rumors soon began to spread. Some students whispered about the strange tension between the new teacher and Rajab.

One day, the principal called Kissa into his office.

“Miss Furqan, I trust you. But be careful. Students talk. If there’s any familiarity between you and a student, it could damage your father’s reputation.”

Her heart pounded. She nodded, saying nothing.

That evening, she found Rajab and spoke firmly:

“This has to end. We must keep distance. My father’s honor is at stake.”

Rajab’s eyes darkened with pain. “So once again, fate decides for us?”

Tears welled up, but she whispered: “Yes. Fate decides.”

@@@@@

The final day of her teaching arrived. Professor Furqan had recovered and was ready to return.

The class gave Kissa a warm farewell. Students clapped and cheered, thanking her for her guidance.

Rajab sat silently at the back, his face unreadable.

When she turned to leave the classroom for the last time, her eyes accidentally met his—just for a second.

But in that second, a thousand words were spoken.

Her eyes said: “I’ll never forget you.”

His eyes replied: “Nor will I.”

And with that silent exchange, their story ended—not with togetherness, but with sacrifice, secrecy, and an unbroken bond etched forever in their hearts.2