The late afternoon sun was sinking behind Whitmore Academy's towering buildings, casting a soft amber glow over the courtyard. Students were dispersing after class, their laughter fading into the cool breeze drifting along the stone pathways. Jasmine was walking slowly, her sketchbook pressed tightly against her ribs, her breath uneven as she replayed the last minutes of class in her mind—Nathalie's voice calling her, Lisa's trembling whisper, the tightness in her own chest as she found herself pulled between them.
The campus was growing quieter, shadows stretching toward the dorms, and Jasmine felt the weight of everything she hadn't said pressing heavily against her skin. She tried to focus on the sound of leaves rustling, the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes, but her thoughts kept pulling her back toward the art studio.
Lisa's eyes…
Nathalie's voice…
Her own rising panic.
She exhaled shakily, stopping near the fountain at the center of the courtyard. The water was rippling, reflecting the fading light, shimmering like fractured glass. Jasmine stared at her reflection, seeing the tension in her eyes. You can't keep pretending you're fine…
Before she could gather herself, footsteps approached behind her.
"Jasmine."
The voice was soft—fragile even.
She turned to see Lisa standing a few steps away, her shoulders slightly hunched, her backpack hanging loosely from one arm. Her expression was a storm of fear, jealousy, sadness… but also something more vulnerable.
"Lisa…" Jasmine murmured, feeling her throat tighten.
Lisa walked closer, stopping just beside the fountain. She looked down at the water instead of at Jasmine. "You didn't come after me."
"I—" Jasmine faltered. "Nathalie called me. I didn't know what to—"
Lisa lifted her head sharply. "You always choose her."
Her voice cracked at the last word.
Jasmine's heart twisted painfully. "It's not like that. I didn't choose anything."
Lisa shook her head. "Maybe you didn't say it. But you look at her like she paints the world in colors only you can see."
Jasmine felt heat rush to her cheeks. "I… don't know what I feel."
"That's the problem," Lisa whispered. "I know what I feel. I've known for a long time."
She stepped forward, just a bit too close. Jasmine felt the warmth of her breath.
"I'm scared to lose you," Lisa confessed, her voice trembling. "I'm scared that whatever is happening between you and Nathalie… is something I can't compete with."
Jasmine swallowed hard. "Lisa, you're important to me."
"Important," Lisa repeated, her smile bitter. "But not the way she is."
The silence was suffocating. The sky was dimming into shades of pink and purple, and Jasmine felt something inside her pull tight, threatening to break. She wanted to speak—but every word tasted wrong.
"I don't want to hurt you," Jasmine whispered finally.
Lisa's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Then be honest with me. Do you feel something for her?"
Jasmine froze.
The truth was clawing inside her. The moments with Nathalie—the lingering touches, the intensity in her eyes, the quiet guidance—had been searing themselves into Jasmine's heart. But admitting it felt terrifying. Dangerous.
"I… don't know," Jasmine said, barely audible.
Lisa looked away, the disappointment palpable. "That's not an answer."
Before Jasmine could respond, the bell tower rang softly across campus—signaling the end of the afternoon period. Some students glanced over, but quickly continued on their way.
Lisa wiped her eyes quickly. "I don't want to fight with you. But I can't keep pretending I don't see what's happening."
She took a small step back. "Please… just talk to me later. Really talk."
Then she turned and walked away, her shoulders trembling slightly as she moved toward her dorm.
Jasmine stood still, the cold wind brushing against her face. She felt hollow, like something essential had slipped through her fingers. Her chest ached with guilt and confusion.
When she finally moved, she found herself walking toward the art building without thinking. Her feet carried her there instinctively, as though drawn by the very person she was trying to avoid thinking about.
The hallways were quiet. Most students had left, leaving only faint echoes of earlier footsteps. Jasmine approached Studio 3B hesitantly, each step scraping against the floor like a whispered warning.
The door was slightly open.
Again.
Warm light spilled from the gap.
Her pulse quickened. Not again… please, not again.
But she stepped inside anyway.
Nathalie was tidying her workspace, stacking brushes, wiping down palettes, and setting aside a half-finished sketch. The studio was calm, peaceful. The scent of paint lingered in the air like a velvety perfume. Nathalie glanced up the moment Jasmine entered.
"You stayed behind."
Her tone was unreadable—gentle, yet carrying a current beneath it.
Jasmine's voice felt stuck in her throat. "You said you wanted to talk."
Nathalie motioned toward a stool near her desk. "I did. Sit."
Jasmine obeyed, feeling strangely like the room was shrinking around them.
Nathalie leaned against her desk, crossing her arms lightly. "You seemed distracted today."
"I had… a lot on my mind."
"I noticed," Nathalie said quietly. "Your lines were hesitant. Unsteady."
Jasmine stared at the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Nathalie's voice softened. "Just tell me what's bothering you."
Jasmine's chest tightened. "It's complicated."
Nathalie tilted her head slightly. "Everything worth feeling is complicated."
Jasmine lifted her gaze, meeting Nathalie's eyes. The amber light reflected in them, making them look impossibly warm.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Jasmine confessed. "Lisa is upset. And you… I don't know how to act around you."
Nathalie walked closer, stopping just a few feet away. "You don't have to act. You only have to feel."
"That's what scares me," Jasmine whispered.
Nathalie exhaled slowly, studying her with devastating patience. "You're afraid of hurting someone. Including yourself."
"Yes."
"And you're afraid that whatever this is between us… might be real."
Jasmine's breath caught. The silence cracked open between them, thick with a truth Jasmine hadn't dared to name.
"I care about you," Nathalie said, her voice low. "Not just as your instructor. Not just as an artist."
Jasmine's heartbeat hammered in her ears.
Nathalie's eyes darkened slightly. "But I need you to understand something. If you choose to step closer, there are consequences. This isn't a game. Not for me."
Jasmine swallowed hard. "I know."
"Do you?" Nathalie asked softly. "Because your friend—Lisa—is hurting. And she matters to you."
"She does."
Nathalie stepped back, giving Jasmine space she hadn't realized she needed. "Then the first step is clarity. Not rushing forward. Not running blindly into emotion."
Jasmine nodded slowly. "I'll talk to her. I owe her that."
Nathalie watched her carefully. "Good. And when you've sorted your heart… then come back to me."
The words hit Jasmine with surprising force—both grounding and electrifying. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks, her pulse fluttering.
"Is that what you want?" Jasmine asked quietly.
Nathalie's lips curved into the faintest smile. "I want you to stop being afraid of yourself."
Jasmine felt her breath falter. She stood up, gathering her sketchbook, her legs barely steady beneath her.
"I… I should go," she said.
Nathalie nodded. "Go. Talk to her."
Jasmine walked toward the door, her fingers trembling. Before she stepped out, Nathalie spoke again.
"And Jasmine?"
Jasmine paused, turning slightly.
"Don't lie to her. Or to me."
Jasmine nodded, heart pounding, then slipped out into the hallway. The door closed behind her with a quiet click that echoed louder than it should have.
As she walked across campus, evening settling around her, she felt torn open—raw, vulnerable, terrified… but also strangely relieved. The truth was beginning to unfold, whether she was ready or not.
Lisa deserved honesty.
Nathalie deserved clarity.
And Jasmine… Jasmine deserved a chance to understand her own heart.
The lines were blurring.
And nothing would be the same again.