As the three of them walked away from the class, Johir ranted, "How dare that moron try to insult our bro like that? I swear if I was the VC—"
Shahin cut in with a laugh, "You'd cancel the professor's degree and give Shams one instead!"
They both burst out laughing, carefree and loud. Shams glanced at their faces—faces filled with humor, loyalty, and no trace of concern for what just happened.
He stayed silent for a moment.
When Johir noticed, he stopped walking and asked, "Bro, is there something on our faces?"
Shahin leaned in, "Yeah, what? Did a pigeon poop on me or something?"
They both laughed even louder.
Shams finally smiled. In his heart, he said to himself: They're always like this. No tension about the world, no fear. Always chill… like they're from another planet.
He looked at them again and thought, How did we become this close? Almost like brothers…
---
Flashback: Years Ago – Shams' First Year at Dhaka University
It was only his fourth day.
Shams walked through the grand gate of Dhaka University—majestic, with towering trees, students rushing past, the chaos of rickshaws, the buzz of a new world.
He adjusted his bag strap when—
"Hey, fresher. Again acting smart, huh?"
The same group of six boys blocked his way. They'd been trying to mess with him since the first day. Shams usually ignored them. Dealing with street thugs like them was easy for someone like him—but he chose peace.
Today too, he tried walking past them calmly.
That's when a voice called out, dramatic and loud, "I heard someone's trying to bully my classmate?"
The crowd turned. A tall, lanky guy with big hair and oversized glasses stepped in, chest puffed out like a cartoon hero.
"I'm Johir! And I won't let anyone touch my classmate when the great Johir is here!"
The thugs looked at each other… then burst into laughter.
"Who is this joker?"
One of them walked up and shoved Johir hard.
"Ale le le… Baby, go chew a lollipop."
Johir stumbled and fell to the ground, smacking onto the dirt.
He groaned, brushing dust off his shirt.
But then—he stood up again. Proud.
"You've done it now. You're dead. You just poked the lion's cub… and the lion's coming."
"Lion?" a thug scoffed. "Who's your lion, cartoon man?"
Johir smirked, pointing behind them.
WHACK!
One of the thugs suddenly dropped—out cold.
The others turned around just in time to see a wooden bat in mid-air.
A tall boy stood there, sleeves rolled up, hair messy from running, holding the bat like a sword. Calm eyes. Silent fury.
Shahin.
He didn't speak. He just walked forward slowly… bat dragging on the ground.
The thugs rushed him together—but they had no idea what was coming.
The first thug swung a punch—Shahin ducked under it and smashed the bat into his gut.
"UGH!" He crumpled.
Another came from the side—Shahin stepped aside, grabbed his collar, twisted, and slammed him into a tree.
Crack!
The third thug tried to grab the bat—Shahin let go and kneed him in the face. Blood burst from his nose.
"FOUR AGAINST ONE, BRO!" one shouted.
Shahin picked up a brick from the ground, tossed it up, caught it—and smiled.
"Then bring three more."
One thug rushed at him with a punch—Shahin caught the arm, locked it, and elbowed him in the neck.
He dropped.
Last thug hesitated—then looked at his fallen friends.
Shahin walked toward him.
He threw the brick into the air and caught it again.
The thug screamed, "I—I'm sorry!" and ran.
Silence.
Johir stood beside Shams now, whispering, "See? That's my bro."
Shams stared at Shahin, who dusted his hands, picked up his bat, and looked directly at him.
That was the first time they saw each other.
Just then, a voice thundered from behind.
"What the hell is happening in the campus?!"
Heads turned. It was Professor Anisur. Younger than he is now, but still with the same signature stern face that could silence an entire room.
He walked into the scene with heavy steps, scanning the chaos, the fallen thugs, and the students gathered around.
His sharp eyes landed on Shams.
He paused.
Then narrowed his gaze.
"No… it can't be you," he muttered. "You don't look the type."
Then his eyes shot to Johir and Shahin. His tone instantly changed.
"You two… figures."
Johir tried to speak, "Sir, actually—"
"Umm, sir we can explain—" Shahin added.
"NO excuses!" Professor Anisur snapped.
(He was always like that—never heard a word before delivering punishment.)
"You two, come with me."
With a sigh and slight smirk, they followed behind him. As they walked away, Shahin turned his head around and gave Shams a cheeky smile—like he was proud of what just happened.
Shams just stood there, confused.
Later, as Shams walked across the campus again, he spotted them. This time… they were kneeling outside a faculty room. Students passing by laughed, pointed, even took photos. But Johir and Shahin didn't seem to care. They were still talking and laughing—like it was just another day.
Johir spotted Shams and shouted,
"Hey, classmate! Come here!"
Shams ignored them and walked into his class, pretending not to notice.
---
After Class – In the Canteen
Shams walked in, hungry and tired, and saw the same two troublemakers sitting at a corner table, munching on bread and eggs like nothing happened.
He walked toward them.
"Hey, you," he said, pointing at Shahin. "What's your name?"
Shahin blinked. "Me?"
"Yeah, you."
"Umm… I'm Shahin. Aren't you the classmate from this morning?"
Shams folded his arms. "Stop calling me classmate. My name is Shams."
"Ohh," Shahin smiled. "Nice name."
Then Shams snapped, "Why did you fight those guys? I never asked for help."
Shahin looked at Johir. They exchanged glances, then both burst out laughing.
Chewing on his bread, Shahin replied casually,
"I didn't fight for you."
Shams frowned. "Then?"
"I fought for my bro Johir. They tried to mess with him."
Shams looked at Johir. "And why did you get involved?"
Johir shrugged like it was obvious.
"Because they messed with our classmate."
Shams didn't know what to say. Before he could reply, Johir grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to sit.
"Come sit with us. Don't just stand around like a hostel ghost."
And just like that, the conversation flowed.
Then Johir asked, raising a brow,
"By the way… why'd you ignore us this morning?"
Shams smirked. "Who wants to talk to two guys kneeling outside a room while everyone's laughing at them?"
Suddenly, Johir and Shahin's faces turned stone cold. They glared at Shams like they were truly offended.
Shams blinked. "W-Wait… I was kidding. Just kidding!"
For a second, silence.
Then both of them burst out laughing.
"Haha! Bro, we were also kidding!" Johir said.
Shahin added, "Look at his face! Bro thought we were hurt or something!"
All three laughed together, loud and carefree. A friendship sealed by chaos, banter, and a little punch of honesty.
Shahin asked, "So Shams, you watched yesterday's IPL match?"
Shams smirked. "Nah. I don't watch cricket… I play cricket."
Shahin gasped, holding his chest like he was shot.
"Bro… is there even a boy in this country who doesn't watch cricket?"
Shams smiled. "Yes. Me."
Shahin laughed, and the three of them kept talking—about sports, music, professors they already hated, and everything in between.
Later that evening, while walking home together…
Shahin asked, "So where do you live, Shams?"
Shams replied, "I'm in a hostel right now. But I'm searching for a place. I don't want to stay there long."
Johir instantly jumped in. "What do you think about living with us?"
Shams stopped walking. "Wait… with you guys?"
Before he could finish that sentence—
BROOOM! BROOOM!
The deafening sound of several motorbikes echoed through the campus street.
Dozens of bikes appeared at the gate, dust flying, engines roaring.
Johir's face shifted.
Shahin narrowed his eyes.
Shams instinctively stepped back.