Isha

"Miss Sen, are you dating Prince Calix?"

"How is he in real life? Like, is he as cold as he is shown on TV, or is he a total cinnamon roll?"

"How does it feel, dating a prince?"

"Will you become a princess now, Miss Sen?"

My grin trembles at the constant, out of the context from our subject-matter, questions from my students. They are sixteen. Of course, they will be interested in their teacher's love life when news of her being in a relationship with Prince Calix spreads all over Syncitia within a short span of time.

This past week has been a mess already. I did take a week off from school and locked myself up completely in my apartment. I had to ultimately leave my safe abode when I remembered I was a teacher and my flatmate told me off for being a coward rather than going out there like the brave lady I am. Easier said than done. A week has passed, yet the buzz on social media hasn't died down. Thankfully, the public hasn't gotten the address of my residence yet.

"Let us put the unimportant questions aside and focus on 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe, please." My grin intensifies, hoping the teenagers will receive the notion, how not willing I am to answer their questions.

"But Miss Sen—"

"No 'buts' Evelyn. Read the first stanza, loud and clear, please."

Thankfully, my students are obedient. They do not press the matter further and begin to concentrate on the class. The brunette haired girl stands up with her text book and opens her mouth to narrate the poem.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—"

A loud commotion occurring outside, catches our attention. I motion Evelyn to continue reading and the other students to concentrate on the poem. Meanwhile, I make my way to the windows of the classroom. My eyes widen when I finish sliding open the glass window.

Swarms of news reporters have gathered around the school. Furious crowds follow suit, demanding an answer from me, while the guard and some teachers try to stop the mass of people from barging inside the institution grounds. The classroom I am in, is on the third floor. I wonder what would have happened if it were on the ground floor. Immediately shutting the windows close, I take a minute or two to catch my palpated breathe.

"Is everything alright, Miss Sen?" one of my students asks when I make my way to the teacher's desk. Sweat from nervousness trickles down my spine. I give a subtle nod before glancing at my smart-watch.

"I'll send one of the substitute teachers—"

The students groan. I can't help but smile seeing how readily they enjoy my company and the class, simultaneously. But I have more pressing issues to take care of and not a steady brain at the moment to focus on Edgar Allan Poe.

"I am feeling under the weather kids," I smile ruefully, "Just for today, alright?"

"Yes, Miss Sen." Grumbling answers echo.

I smile once, before exiting from the classroom. I need to visit the principal's office. Now.

"Sir, you have to call the police."

"They are on their way," the dark-skinned, bald man, who never loses his calm, says while sipping his afternoon tea. "Why don't you have a seat and some herbal tea? It may help in loosening up your tensed nerves."

"Thank you Sir." I slump down on the chair in front of him. "But I'll pass on the tea."

Mr Orchard Rick says no more. He is the most laid-back principal I have ever come across. The previous principal was a total...asshole. I know it is not appropriate of me to curse a sixty-year-old, supposed to be, reputable person, in Syncitia's teaching society. However, not many were aware of his amoral attitude. Red alarms in my brain flared off from the first day of my job here, which was approximately two years ago. Naturally, I kept my distance from him. He wasn't very fond of me either, because of that very reason. Let's say, he felt utterly humiliated due to my straightforward rejection of his suggestive remarks on my body, accompanied by his willingness to bed me. The old man should have thanked me that I hadn't gone to the School Board Council, on the same day. But oh well, he knew better than to keep bothering me since I was pretty clear about my threats to him. Politely.

Precisely ten months ago, the former principal was fired. Apparently, he was caught red-handed while trying to bribe a newly hired young female teacher into giving him a blowjob, in exchange for an exceptionally high-paid salary.

That is how the then vice-principal, Orchard Rick, became the present principal of Syncitia Public High School. He is a phenomenal man in his late forties who is not only extremely passionate and dedicated to his work, but also, focuses on creating a safe, healthy and comfortable environment for teachers, students and non-teaching staff, equally. I hold a lot of respect for him.

"Isha." The austere tone in his voice, as he utters my name, sounds foreign. He for sure, is an insouciant principal but Mr Rick can also turn necessarily stern, at the right time. And him addressing me by my first name, rather than Miss Sen, seems forbidding.

"Yes Sir?" my voice comes out higher than I had anticipated.

"This school is important to me, you know that right?"

I nod, knowing in which direction our conversation is heading.

"Good." A forced smile appears on his lips. "Then you must also know, as much as I admire my employees' work, when time comes, I need to judge circumstances from the perspective of a principal."

"I understand, Sir." Are these sweat beads appearing on my forehead?

Mr Rick halts. He rubs his chin, as if deeply contemplating how to announce his next words. I silently pray that he doesn't state the sentences that I am dreading.

"I certainly sympathize with the, um, tricky situation you are currently in, regardless of the fact whether all the speculations circling about you are true or not."

I do not receive the opportunity of denying the statement when he voices out the feared phrases.

"With a heavy heart, I had to take this decision ultimately." A regretful expression lines his features. "If you are not able to bring this situation under control within one week, I'm afraid I would have to ask you to resign. Permanently."

Although I did expect an announcement when I visited the principal's office, the shock is still there. I can't even utter a single word as I stare at him with an unresponsive, blank gaze.

Say something, you fool. A voice smacks my brain and brings me out of my internal battle of dilemmas.

I try to put up a smile. A strained one at the very least before saying the most blatant answer I am capable of, "Oh. I see."

I see? Is this some 'diplomatic affairs discussion scene' in a historical drama? My inner voice decides to smack my brain a thousand more times while I sit there, smiling through the pain.

"You were not a bad teacher."

Hah. Now he is even speaking in past tense as if the loss of my job is determined. The heavens have finally decided to torment me on Earth, it seems. Is it because I once laughed intentionally at a crying kid when she had fallen down on the footpath after yelling and demanding her mother to take her on a moon expedition? The notorious girl deserved it anyway.

The ending consolation words of Orchard Rick, continue. "In fact, the children loved you and your classes—"

"Respectfully speaking, Sir," my furious gaze, co-existing with that frowning smile of mine, probably makes me look like the antagonist of a dramatic soap opera. Whatever my expression may be, it causes principal dearest to zip his mouth up. "You have given me one whole week, and I am confident enough that I will be able to secure back my position here at Syncitia Public High School. Permanently."

I am not confident. At all. But a little lie to paint my own ego doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

"Of course," he says, "I do hope everything goes well and smooth."

I beam, getting up from the chair. Considering how he changed colours without trying to hear what the other party had to say, no thanks. Says a lot about his chameleon cowardice personality whilst he has always spoken about putting his employees and the school first, but now is backing away from his ultimate pledge, not because of the reputation of the school. But because of his reputation as the principal, since Syncitia Public High School is a well-known institution in the entirety of Syncitia. The name gives it away.

I bid the principal goodbye before making my way out of his office. Not long after, two suited men with perfectly immaculate ties, cufflinks, wristwatches, and even their damn gelled hair, appear in front of me. They have security ear-pieces, as it happens. The famous badge, where the picture of a palace is engraved and so is the title Royal Executive Guard, shines brightly.

It doesn't take a genius to understand that they are from the Royal Palace, here, for whatever reason it is.

Although this is 2023, I have no guarantee whether His Majesty will show me mercy from executing me on a guillotine, in front of the public. I do not have any plans of dying at the young age of twenty-five.

"How may I help you?" I wince at my wavering voice.

"Miss Isha Sen," the one on my right speaks, "His Majesty and Prince Calix have called for a meeting with you. We are here to safely escort you to the Royal Palace. The meeting won't take long, and I hope you will co-operate with us."

As if I can disagree with His Majesty and His Royal Highness' decision. I want to return home, lock myself up in my apartment and ball my eyes out, while watching sappy romantic-comedies, with a bucket full of chocolate ice-cream. I don't care if my flatmate wonders whether I am going through another round of heartbreak.

This isn't heartbreak. This is a matter of fear and requirement of mighty courage.

"Of course." I give a tight-lipped smile to the two muscular, big and scary looking men in front of me before following them through the back-gate of the school.

I sit between these two men, inside a dazzling black Jaguar, with my thighs put together and my hands, all clamped and sweaty as they rest on my legs, out of pure tension.

Given the circumstances, I cannot help but wonder how rotten my luck actually is.