she crushed on her sir

Past midnight. The hostel rooftop.

Aditya Khan stood leaning against the railing. He wore a khaki t-shirt and loose trousers. The wind blew through his hair. No chain around his neck, no phone in his hand. Just the silent night and a thousand unsaid words in his chest.

Sadman came up from behind. “Bro, you’re here? There’s the semi-final tomorrow. Coach will kill you.”

Aditya didn’t turn around. “Can’t sleep.”

Sadman came and stood beside him. “I saw Mehedi Sir pulling you aside today. Did he scold you?”

“No,” Aditya sighed. “Sir said, ‘If your head’s not in the game, take off the number 10 jersey, Aditya.’”

“So where is your head at?” Sadman raised an eyebrow. “Someone new?”

Aditya stayed quiet for a moment. Then, looking up at the sky, he said, “You remember class ten? Inter-school football at the district school field?”

“Which one? The one where you scored a hat-trick?”

“Yeah. After that match, there was a girl standing in the gallery. White dress, hair in a braid. She looked at me and smiled.” A faint smile touched Aditya’s lips. “That day was the first time… something felt weird in my chest.”

Sadman’s eyes went wide. “Wait, you’re talking about Orpita? Banerjee Sir’s daughter?”

Aditya nodded. “Yeah. Orpita Banerjee. Met her that day on the field. After exams, we never saw each other again. I moved to Dhaka, no idea where she went.”

“You liked her since then…?”

“Yeah,” Aditya gripped the railing tight. “Since class ten. 4 years. Not a single meeting in between. I thought I’d forget her. But…”

“But what?”

“But on the first day after admission into university, I saw her in front of the library. White kameez, small earrings. She was arguing with someone on the phone.” Aditya’s voice cracked. “After 4 years. Same eyes, same anger. And I froze again.”

Sadman put a hand on Aditya’s shoulder. “Then what’s this TSC story? Didn’t you say you saw her at TSC?”

Aditya shook his head. “Not TSC. I said it wrong. First time was the football field. Second time was this campus, after exams. In between, just emptiness.”

The night wind made his khaki t-shirt flutter. Aditya whispered, “I can’t even tell her—I’m that boy from class ten. The one who still loses sleep over just one of her smiles.”

*Part 2: Mehedi Sir in Class*

*Next morning, Economics Department, Room 302*

Orpita, Brishti, and Rupa sat on the first bench. Whiteboard in front of them.

“Ugh, this Economics just doesn’t enter my head,” Brishti shut her notebook. “And apparently a new sir is coming today.”

Rupa pouted. “New sir means more pain. More homework.”

Just then, the door opened and Mehedi Sir walked in. Around 35-36 years old. Fair, tall, clean-shaven. Wearing a navy blue formal shirt with sleeves rolled up. Glasses on. Marker in hand.

The whole class stood up to greet him.

“Sit,” Sir’s voice was deep but calm. “I’m Mehedi Hasan. I’ll be taking your Microeconomics from today.”

Orpita stopped midway through opening her notebook. She just stared at Sir. He was writing his name on the board. Nice handwriting. Slow, clear way of speaking.

Brishti nudged her with an elbow. “Oi, what are you staring at with your mouth open?”

Orpita quickly looked away. “W-what? Nothing. Taking notes.”

But for the entire 45-minute class, Orpita didn’t write a single note. She just watched. When Sir smiled while explaining an example, something strange fluttered in Orpita’s chest.

After class, Sir left. Rupa packed her bag and said, “Sir’s kinda cute, no? His voice is nice.”

Brishti laughed, “You find everyone cute.”

Orpita said nothing. She took her bag and walked out. But in the corridor, she turned back once and looked toward the staff room.

She thought to herself, “Ugh, am I going crazy? A crush on Sir?”

But the next day, she was back on the first bench. Notebook open. And her eyes… her eyes were on Mehedi Sir again.

*[To be continued...]*

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