The entire classroom had gone silent. You could've heard a pin drop. Every single face, from the front row to the top seats, was frozen somewhere between awe, confusion, and the kind of mild fear that really shouldn't make me as proud as it did.
I nodded to myself, satisfied. Perfect execution.
The timing, the slam, the dramatic fog… chef's kiss. I could practically hear the collective gasp of admiration.
'Nice work, Sacha,' I thought, smirking. The little tiger perched on my shoulder flicked her tail smugly.
"Sacha told you, Papa," she purred softly, "mist makes everything cooler."
"And it did," I muttered under my breath, pretending to dust off my coat. "You've got a real flair for drama."
Her chest puffed up. "Sacha learned from you!"
I was about to say something witty when my eyes finally landed on the person standing at the front of the room.
My confidence, my entire ego, hit the brakes so hard I could almost hear the screech.
