When the man realized he could no longer pursue the young man he had struck, he sighed in resignation and hailed a taxi, heading toward his temporary residence. The journey from Pakistan to Turkey had been grueling, and despite all his efforts, he had failed to accomplish his primary objective. Instead, he had been forced to watch over the son of the man he was after, knowing full well that their shared enemies might return at any moment. His decision to stay had come at a cost—some of his belongings, along with his mother’s, had been lost in the chaos.
Initially, he had intended to speak with the young man, but he knew that now was not the right time. Losing a parent was an unimaginable pain—one he understood all too well. The only difference was that he had experienced it at a much younger age. At just eight years old, he had watched his father die right in front of him.
From that moment on, he had made a solemn vow to avenge his father’s death.
His taxi soon pulled up in front of a modest apartment complex near a private high school, where he would be staying under a recently launched Teacher Exchange Program. He hadn't originally been chosen as his school’s representative, but upon learning the program’s location, he had seized the opportunity without hesitation. His reputation as an exceptional teacher had made the selection process effortless, as no one had questioned his qualifications.
As he stepped into the apartment, he took a moment to assess his surroundings. The space was much smaller than his home, but it was functional and provided enough room for him to move freely. He unpacked his belongings methodically, setting up what little he had brought. That night, before going to bed, he carefully arranged his materials for his first day of teaching.
At the break of dawn, he woke up, dressed, and made his way to the school. His arrival did not go unnoticed. Students instinctively turned their heads as he walked past, though their reactions weren’t necessarily ones of admiration. Unlike the other teachers, who exuded warmth or authority, his presence carried something else—an unspoken intensity. His sharp gaze, the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence in his stride—it was enough to make the students instinctively move aside.
Upon meeting with the principal, he requested a map of the school. He studied it for a brief moment before returning it. Efficiency was second nature to him; if something could be learned quickly, he saw no reason to waste time. Within ten minutes, he had already memorized the entire layout of the school and located the principal’s office without hesitation.
"You’ll be assigned to an advisory class," said Principal Moore, offering a polite smile. "I’ll have Ms. Smith accompany you there."
"That won’t be necessary," he replied, his voice polite yet firm. "I already know where it is."
The principal raised a brow, mildly impressed. "In that case, good luck on your first day, Mr. Bajwa." He extended a handshake, which the young man accepted with a curt nod before turning and leaving.
Navigating through the school was effortless. He passed through two buildings before arriving at the third floor, where his assigned classroom was located. The moment he stepped inside, he was met with an unusual silence. The students sat stiffly in their seats, their eyes trained on him. Without wasting any time, he introduced himself, his tone direct yet composed. After brief introductions from the students, he immediately launched into his lecture, wasting no time on unnecessary pleasantries.
Thirty minutes into the class, the door suddenly burst open, and two girls stumbled in, breathless from running. The disruption was met with immediate attention. Without missing a beat, he turned his sharp gaze toward them.
"Excuse me, Miss."
The two girls froze, turning to face him. He recognized one of them immediately, but he concealed his reaction, maintaining a neutral expression.
"Do you know what time it is?" His voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words.
One of the girls visibly hesitated, while the other stood her ground, unfazed. "7:30, sir," she answered confidently.
"And what time does this class begin?"
"7:00, sir." Her tone remained steady, her eyes locked onto his.
"So, you are aware that you are late?"
"No," she replied without hesitation.
His brows lifted slightly, more in curiosity than irritation. "And why is that?"
"We only stepped out for a moment to use the bathroom, sir. Our belongings were here the entire time."
"For a moment?" He glanced at the clock, then back at her. "I have been teaching for thirty minutes, and yet you are only returning now. Would you still call that ‘a moment’?"
"Sir—"
"Am I speaking to you?" He cut off another student who had attempted to intervene. His piercing gaze silenced her instantly. Then, he turned back to the two latecomers.
"Wait outside until my class is over. You will return for the next subject."
Their eyes widened in disbelief. A murmur rippled through the classroom.
This was unexpected. Late students were usually given a mild scolding, but this was something else entirely. The girl who had spoken back hesitated for only a second before grabbing her friend’s wrist and leading her out of the room. However, as she stood outside, she did not leave. Instead, she leaned against the wall and observed, studying every move the teacher made.
Minutes passed. Soon, the class ended, but Mr. Bajwa remained inside, exchanging a few quiet words with the next instructor before finally stepping out. As he walked past the two girls, he could feel their eyes following him. One of them was merely upset at being reprimanded.
The other? She was watching him for an entirely different reason.