The morning assembly buzzed with unusual excitement. Students whispered, exchanged glances, and some even bounced on their toes as the principal stepped onto the podium. Sara, standing with Lina among the crowd, felt the tension ripple through the air.
"Students," the principal's voice carried, "this year marks the 50th anniversary of our academy. To honor it, we will host a grand festival — complete with exhibitions, performances, and a masquerade ball."
The words set off a storm of cheers. Sara blinked, stunned. A masquerade ball? That sounded like something straight out of the glossy magazines her stepmother left lying around at home.
Beside her, Lina clasped her hands together. "Finally! Something fun. Sara, we have to join."
Sara shook her head instantly. "I… I don't think so."
"Oh, yes you do." Lina's tone left no room for argument.
But not everyone welcomed the announcement with pure excitement.
From across the courtyard, Emily stood with her group, her lips curling into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "A masquerade ball, hm? How perfect. Masks are excellent for hiding true faces."
Her friend Hannah leaned closer. "Do you think Sara will even dare to show up?"
"She will," Emily replied smoothly, her gaze fixed on Sara like a predator sighting prey. "And when she does, I'll make sure her mask slips before everyone."
Later that day, Sara sat in the library with Lina, who was already making lists. "We'll need costumes, props for the stalls, maybe something memorable that people will talk about. Adrian says he'll help design the posters. Leo's volunteering for logistics. Ryan—well, Ryan's good for carrying heavy boxes."
Sara sighed, overwhelmed. "This sounds… huge."
"It is huge!" Lina's eyes sparkled. "And this is your chance, Sara. You can't hide forever. If you join, people will see you differently — not as Emily paints you, but as you."
Sara's chest tightened. A chance to step out of the shadows… and yet, fear clung to her. What if she failed? What if Emily was right — that she was weak, unwanted, forgettable?
That evening, as Sara walked out of school, she spotted Daniel waiting by the gate. He looked up as if he had been expecting her.
"You're not signing up," he said simply.
Sara stiffened. "How do you know?"
He shrugged lightly. "You don't exactly look excited."
She looked down. "It's not for me. People like Emily thrive in events like this. People like me… disappear."
For a long moment, Daniel didn't speak. Then, his voice came quiet but firm. "Or you could surprise them."
Sara glanced at him in disbelief.
"Fear won't disappear by hiding from it," he continued, his gaze steady. "Sometimes, the only way to win is to step onto the stage they've set for you — and prove it's yours."
Her heart raced. It wasn't a challenge in his voice, nor mockery. It was faith. Quiet, steady faith.
When Sara returned home, her stepmother was already waiting in the living room, draped elegantly in silk. "Sara," she said sweetly, "I hear the academy is holding a festival. You should behave yourself. Don't embarrass your father."
The warning was thinly veiled. Sara bowed her head silently, but inside, something shifted.
For once, she didn't only feel the weight of her stepmother's words. She felt the memory of her friends' laughter, Lina's determination, Daniel's faith.
Maybe, just maybe… she could do this.
The next morning, when sign-ups opened, the list quickly filled with names. Emily's group was the first, their handwriting bold across the sheet.
Sara hesitated, her pen hovering.
Lina nudged her. "Do it."
And with a shaky breath, Sara wrote her name.
From the corner, Emily watched, her smile sharpening.
"So," she whispered to Hannah, "the little heiress wants to play."
Her eyes glinted with cold promise.
"Then let's make sure she regrets it."