As the bell announced the end of the period, I closed the book lying on my table.

“Madam, what will be the homework?” my favourite student asked, that familiar smile lighting up her bright face. It always made my day. I looked out at all my lovely students.

“No, there will be no homework. Enjoy your weekend. Stay safe, stay healthy, sweethearts.”

I laughed, gathered my things and stepped out of the class. With my lecture free, I went to the staff room and finally slipped my feet out of my heels. It felt like such a relief. Flats were far more comfortable. But they didn’t carry that polished, “professional” vibe, which was why I loved heels and always wore them.

“Miss Grace?” Alice came into the room.

“Yes, Alice?” I looked up at my colleague. She had joined only a few months ago.

“Umm, actually, I am a bit tired. Could you please take my lecture so I can rest for a bit?” she sounded hesitant.

“It’s okay, Alice. I will go in your place.” I slid my heels back on.

“You are so nice.”

I studied her for a moment. She always sounded sincere to me. Why did people insist she was manipulative? I shook my head and walked out.

In the corridor outside the staff room, Miss Mathilda, our coordinator, was waiting.

“Did Alice ask you to cover her lecture again and are you doing it again?” Her expression was stern.

I paused, then nodded.

“You don’t have to be kind all the time,” she said, probably for the thousandth time. “It will only lead to loss and regret.”

And I gave her the same reply I always did.

“It’s okay, Madam. Kindness is in my bones. I could not bear the guilt of being unkind,” I smiled genuinely as I answered and kept walking to the classroom.

Hours passed. It was the last lecture of the day. I was in the corridor when Miss Jennifer approached me.

“Madam, did you give your students a free games period?” she asked with a frown.

“Yes, I did,” I said evenly.

“May I ask why?” her tone turned sarcastic.

“Because I am their class teacher,” I simply stated.

“You should not be so lenient with them. And don’t get too attached. You are going to leave soon because of your marriage. Why are you making things difficult for us? You are breaking the rules and I have to answer for it every single day.”

“Miss, I know exactly what I am doing. I also took permission from the vice-principal before giving them the games period, so I didn’t break any rule. Please, relax, my dear.”

I glanced at my watch. My duty was almost over. “See you later.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but I walked away.

It was Wednesday morning, and it was my last day. My students gave me so many gifts. They cried. I cried too. We laughed, hugged and tried to make the most of those last few hours together.

Then came the time for my final speech — the last time I would stand on that rostrum. My heart was pounding. The ache of separation was so heavy I could almost hold it in my hands.

First, some senior staff members and my class prefect spoke. They talked about my dedication, efforts, achievements and, most of all, my kindness. Then they called me to the stage.

I reached the podium, adjusted the mic, took a deep breath and began:

“People always tell me to just go to work, mind my business, teach the students, earn money, go home, sleep and repeat. But to me, that is worse than dying. Why would I want to live a life without love, attachment, relationships, laughter and joy? I could never do that.

“Some people keep their distance from colleagues, students and even their workplaces because they know that one day they will have to leave, and leaving will hurt. I understand that. But I have never been able to live that way.

“If I care about someone, I care. If I love being somewhere, I let myself love it. And yes, when the time comes to leave, it hurts. But I think that is better than never allowing yourself to become attached in the first place.

“So I could never live a robotic, dull, monotonous life. I want to put my feelings, heart and love into the things and people that matter to me, whether I get anything in return or not.”

Loud clapping started even before I finished. Pride surged through me. For a moment, I felt that all those little acts of kindness and all those attachments had been worth it. I looked at my students, knowing that I would miss them terribly. Despite the sadness of leaving, I felt at peace.

This was the life I had chosen to live. And I had no regrets.

Published in Dawn, Young World, October 3rd, 2026