June had settled over Nandanpur like a restless sigh. The monsoon was inching closer, but the skies still held a stubborn heat. Humid winds swept through the village, rattling dry leaves and stirring dust into the narrow lanes.
School was the same, yet different.
Ishanvi sat at her usual spot by the window, the breeze teasing the edges of her notebook. The day's lessons had been tough — especially biology, where the diagrams seemed to blur in the sticky air.
During recess beside her, Abhay's hand moved rapidly, sketching the new bridge design the teacher had assigned. He bit his lip, trying to perfect the curve that would hold against floods.
"Hey, Firefly," Abhay whispered, "you're spacing out again."
Ishanvi glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about the scholarship exam in December."
The exam was a shadow over their days, a distant but constant pressure. It was the key to a better future — a chance to break free from the tight grip of poverty that clung to their families.
Raghav jogged up, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Did you hear? The principal is adding a surprise test next week. Maths and science."
Vrinda groaned. "Just what we needed."
Vaidehi adjusted her school bag. "No time to waste. We have to study harder."
Lunch break was quiet. None of them had breakfast that morning, and lunch was just a small piece of dry roti shared between Vrinda and Meera. The pangs of hunger were familiar but sharp today.
On the way back, clouds thickened. The wind shifted suddenly, carrying the scent of rain. Darkening skies gathered over Chandravan forest, where the children usually passed.
"Looks like a storm's coming," Vivaan said, scanning the horizon nervously.
Suddenly, the first heavy drops began to fall. The scooters sputtered and slowed as rain pelted them like tiny stones.
Abhay, drenched to the bone after the ride through the downpour, didn't shiver or cough like the others. He looked strangely peaceful, almost as if the storm calmed him.
"Are you okay?" Ishanvi asked, shivering under her soaked kurta.
"I'm fine," Abhay replied, voice steady. "The rain doesn't bother me."
They rode the last few kilometers in silence, the forest's whispering wind growing louder, almost like a secret being told just to them.
At home, the light flickered as the storm raged outside. Their parents' tired faces showed concern, but also quiet determination.
"Keep studying," Rajesh said firmly. "This year, you must succeed."
Neha brought out a small packet of biscuits, her eyes softening. "Eat something. You'll need your strength."
As night fell, the children sat together under the dim lamp, books open and notes spread. The storm battered the windows, but inside, they clung to their dreams.
Little did they know, the winds were changing not just in the sky — but in their lives too.