The art room buzzed with activity. Students hurried to put the finishing touches on their festival submissions, paintbrushes smudging on palettes, pencils scratching across paper. The air smelled faintly of paint and excitement, mingled with the nervous energy of deadlines.
Anaya clutched her sketchbook tighter than usual. She had picked her best pieces to submit for the festival, but seeing her classmates' work left her unsettled. Some sketches were vibrant and bold; others were delicate and detailed. She felt… small.
"Hey, Anaya!" a familiar voice called. Rhea waved from across the room, holding up her own project with a grin. "Your pieces are amazing. You're going to steal the show!"
Anaya shook her head, biting her lip. "I… I don't know. Look at all these other students. Their work is… really good."
Rhea nudged her playfully. "You're too humble. Your art is special—unique. You can't just compare it to everyone else. Besides," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "someone might notice your style sooner than you think."
Anaya froze. Someone? She quickly looked up, scanning the room. Kian was nearby, talking to Veer but glancing occasionally toward her desk. Her heart did a little jump. He noticed my style… maybe?
Meanwhile, Kian leaned against a table, watching the room. Veer nudged him. "You're staring again. It's kind of obvious, dude."
Kian frowned but didn't look away. "I can't help it. Whoever made those sketches… they're incredible. I just… I need to figure out who it is."
Veer smirked. "You mean you're obsessed. Admit it. You're going to drive yourself crazy before the festival even starts."
Kian groaned. "Fine. Maybe a little. But it's not my fault the art is this good."
Back at her desk, Anaya tried to focus, arranging her pieces for display. She picked the sketches one by one, scrutinizing every line. A flicker of worry crossed her mind. What if someone criticizes it? What if someone finds out it's me?
Rhea leaned over her shoulder. "You're overthinking again. Just display them. People will love it, I promise."
Anaya hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, she carefully placed the sketches on the display board. Each piece was a little piece of herself, and even if no one noticed, she had given it her all.
Across the room, Kian took another glance at her work. Something about the style tugged at him—he couldn't shake the feeling that he already knew the artist. But he had no proof yet. All he could do was watch, wait, and hope for another clue.
The day ended with students filing out of the art room, teachers complimenting the work, and a buzzing anticipation for the festival. Anaya left feeling both nervous and proud. This was her moment—one step closer to taking a chance on herself and maybe something more.