Misaki stood before him, her eyes twinkling with astonishment. Ahmed's drawings were completely different from anything she had ever known; full of life and color, vibrant with something she couldn't name, different from her precise but sad lines, which were devoid of colors.
She stared at his face, trying to read what he was hiding behind his calm smile. There was a special passion shining in his eyes, something that made her heart tremble slightly, as if the drawings were not just colors on paper, but a pulse overflowing from within him.
In a faint voice, as if she feared everything would disappear if she spoke louder, she whispered:
"Ahmed-kun... can... can you draw me?"
Ahmed smiled gently, and his facial features radiated warmth. He had never seen a sparkle like that in her life, a small touch of light breaking the silence that had surrounded her. And he didn't wait long, for he understood the trust and fragility in that look.
He sat in front of her, the sketchbook open, his colors ready, and his brush moving between his hands with tenderness and precision. He began to draw her slowly, focusing on her sad eyes, which now held a glimmer of hope, a hidden ray quietly growing amidst the shadows of sadness.
With every brushstroke, he added touches of warmth to her soft black hair that fell around her face, as if he were drawing hope itself onto her soul. Misaki watched, feeling that something inside them both was beginning to stir, something that had long waited for a chance to be born.
The silence between them was not heavy, but was full of life, with the softness of colors, and with a promise that every moment could become the beginning of something new.