The buzz across campus was electric. Posters for the Freshman Design Competition fluttered from every notice board. It was the first major event for design students a chance to showcase talent, creativity, and make a lasting impression on professors and scouts from local brands.
Arielle was laser-focused. She spent every free moment sketching, experimenting with textures, watching runway archives, and sourcing materials from budget markets. Unlike Tasha, who had a fashion fund from her family, Arielle had to be resourceful.
But her eyes burned with purpose. Her theme was "Liberation." Flowing silhouettes, sharp folds, and a powerful transition from darkness to light. She wanted her dress to tell a story of rebirth of stepping out of the shadows with grace.
Tasha chose "High Society" as her concept elegant, structured, almost icy. Her dress was a sleek champagne mermaid gown with exaggerated ruffled shoulders and diamonds sewn along the waistline. It was bold and rich, much like Tasha herself.
They worked side-by-side in the dorm for days.
"You should add more shimmer to your piece," Tasha said one night, leaning over Arielle's sketch. "It's a bit plain."
"It's not meant to be flashy," Arielle replied, not looking up. "It's meant to feel… freeing."
"Hmm. Suit yourself."
Still, there were moments of genuine laughter. Braiding each other's hair at 2 AM. Stealing snacks while arguing about fabric glue. To Arielle, it felt like sisterhood.
But Tasha's smile didn't reach her eyes anymore.
Especially not when Ezra showed up.
"You're both designing beasts," Ezra said, stepping into their dorm room with two cups of hot cocoa. "Thought you needed a break."
Arielle's face lit up. "You're the best, seriously."
He grinned, tapping her nose with a marshmallow stick. "No, you're the best."
Tasha watched, quiet and stiff, fingers curled around her measuring tape. She noticed how Ezra looked at Arielle — soft and steady, like she was the only one in the room.
The next day, Arielle stepped out to pick up her lace trims from the campus postroom.
She left her final design sketch on her desk, her trusted sketchpad filled with months of ideas. Tasha stood by her mannequin, draping muslin, pretending to be preoccupied.
But her gaze drifted.
Slowly, she walked to Arielle's desk.
The sketch lay open.
One look and Tasha's heart sank.
It was beautiful an asymmetrical midnight-blue gown with delicate silver-thread wings stitched along the back. A perfect blend of symbolism and innovation. And nothing like what anyone else had submitted.
Tasha's design suddenly felt flat.
Her chest tightened.
She took a photo of the sketch. Then another. Then flipped a few pages and captured them too.
When Arielle returned, Tasha was humming, smiling again, pinning a hem like nothing happened.
The night before the show, Ezra met Arielle under the old oak tree near the central library. He handed her a black velvet box.
"Don't open it until after the show," he said with a lopsided smile. "A little reward. For believing in yourself."
She raised a brow. "You really think I'll win?"
"I don't just think it. I know it."
They sat on the grass, sipping cold coffee, her head resting on his shoulder.
For a moment, everything was quiet, safe, and full of possibility.
But in the shadows of that serenity, Tasha walked by, unnoticed, her eyes burning with something unreadable.
The competition would change everything.