Waiting by the Gate

Sarfaraz had never been the best student in class. He was quiet, often distracted, and not particularly good at remembering equations or grammar rules. But there was one thing he never forgot — kindness. And that, he learned from Miss Leila, his teacher.

Miss Leila wasn’t just a teacher — she was a protector of forgotten children. She saw things others didn’t. Where other teachers saw failure, she saw potential. Where others gave up, she leaned in.

Sarfaraz had always wanted to thank her. Not just with words, but with something that could stay — like she had stayed for him.

One winter morning, Sarfaraz stood outside her house with a small box wrapped in an old scarf. Inside, curled up and warm, was a tiny puppy — white fur, floppy ears, and a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging.

When Miss Leila opened the door, her eyes widened.

“A dog?” she laughed softly. “For me?”

Sarfaraz nodded. “His name is Hero. I saved for him. I thought… maybe he could protect you the way you protect all of us.”

Her eyes misted. She knelt beside Sarfaraz, cradled the puppy, and smiled.

“Then Hero will stay with me. Thank you, Sarfaraz. He’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Years passed. Sarfaraz graduated, and Miss Leila continued teaching. But every morning, the small puppy — now a strong, beautiful dog — would walk with her to school, tail wagging proudly, ears up like a soldier on duty.

He would wait outside the classroom door, never barking, never moving. Just waiting.

At lunch, she would sit with him in the courtyard under the neem tree, sharing her food. At dismissal, they walked home together, step for step.

Hero wasn’t just a pet.

He was a shadow of her soul.

Children grew up seeing the bond between Miss Leila and Hero like a storybook tale. Some said the dog could understand her thoughts. Others said he waited every day, not because he was trained — but because he wanted to.

But life, like seasons, must change.

One cloudy morning, Hero arrived at school as usual. He waited at the front gate. The children passed him and patted his head. But Miss Leila did not come.

She never would again.

She had passed away the night before, quietly in her sleep — a gentle end to a gentle life.

No one had the heart to move Hero.

He waited there that day.

And the next.

And the next after that.

They tried to take him in — the principal, the parents, even Sarfaraz, now a grown man. But Hero always returned to the school gate.

Rain or shine.

Cold or heat.

He waited.

Some days he would lie there, staring at the path she used to take. On others, he’d rest his head on his paws and sleep. But he never stopped waiting.

The children grew used to seeing him — the silent guardian, the faithful friend. New students heard the story of Miss Leila and her dog, passed down like a legend.

Years passed. Hero grew older, slower. His white fur turned gray. His legs began to shake when he stood.

One final winter morning, the school gate opened like always. But Hero didn’t rise.

He had curled up at the gate — in the exact spot where he had waited every day — and closed his eyes forever.

He had waited until the end.

The school held a small ceremony. Sarfaraz came, holding a single photo of Miss Leila and Hero sitting beneath the neem tree. The students lit candles. Some cried, even though they never met Miss Leila.

Because they had known her through Hero.

A statue now stands at the school gate.

A teacher, kneeling beside a loyal dog.

And beneath it, the words carved in stone:

“She taught love.

He showed loyalty.

Together, they taught us all.”

End.