Alena stared at the tall building the moment she stepped out of the car. Her heart raced so wildly it felt like it would escape her chest.
Aiden's voice snapped her attention. "Follow me."
She trailed behind him, her steps unsteady. Each one carried the weight of nerves, fear, and overwhelming emotions. Her stomach twisted painfully, knotted with everything spilling through her at once.
It felt unreal. Just 8 months ago, she had been hanging on the edge of death, unable to look beyond the weight of her past, the misery she was in. Now she was preparing to step into an art school, which she never dreamed of or imagined. The nervousness crawled down her legs, and she was unable to walk. She stood at the entrance, lost in thought, processing, is she dreaming or is she actually in the situation?
Her eyes blurred with tears. She whispered to herself, barely audible, "You can do this… just breathe."
Aiden's voice cut through her haze, bringing her back to the present.
"Are you planning to stare at the building all day? At this pace, you'll miss the admission window."
His tone snapped her back to reality. She blinked hard, forcing the tears back, shutting her eyes tight to convince herself this wasn't a dream. When she opened them again, the building loomed before her in its solid, unyielding form. Real.
A smile tugged faintly at her lips. "I'm coming."
Aiden only gave a short nod and pushed open the glass door, letting her follow.
Inside, the admission office buzzed with quiet activity, students roaming in corridors, staff tapping on keyboards, papers sliding across desks. A faint smell of paint, Aiden went ahead with his usual confidence and approached one of the staff at the counter.
"We're here for admission on Mrs. Novak's reference," he said.
The woman behind the desk, with her round glasses perched on her nose, looked at them carefully. "Name?"
"Alena," Aiden answered.
Her fingers tapped across the keyboard, eyes scanning the screen. Then she looked back at him. "Full scholarship?"
"Yes," Aiden replied flatly.
The woman nodded, impressed, pulling out a form. "Fill this form with student details. Once it's complete, go to room number 303. The professor will conduct a short formality interview and review the portfolio." She handed the form over.
Aiden took it and turned immediately, shoving it lightly in front of Alena's face. "Fill in your details."
Her hands trembled as she accepted it. The pen felt heavy, her vision blurring as she stared at the blank spaces waiting for answers.
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Can you even write with those trembling hands?" His face twisted in mild annoyance.
Alena glanced at him, her face red. It wasn't anger; it was everything crashing down at once. Overwhelmed. Vulnerable. Trying desperately to hold herself together.
Aiden's irritation melted. His heart softened in a way he couldn't explain. He sighed and pulled the form from her grip. "Tell me your details. I'll fill it out."
He sat beside her, pen poised. "What's your full name?"
Her voice trembled as she answered, "Alena Carrel."
He paused, looking at her for a beat, then wrote it down. "Age?"
"Twenty-three."
The form asked for an address. He hesitated before asking. "Do you remember your address?"
Alena's face went blank. "I don't have anyone."
Aiden studied her for a second, the weight of her words heavier than she probably realized. Without pressing further, he wrote his own address down. The next section was for a guardian. He glanced at her again but chose silence, quietly filling his own name.
By the time he finished, he handed the form back to her. "It's done. Check it once, and finish your interview."
She didn't respond, still looking down, panting a little; she was not able to hold it.
His eyes flicked briefly to the portfolio clutched tightly in her arms. For a moment, something softened again, but he masked it quickly with his usual teasing tone.
"Don't faint in there," he said. "If they throw you out, remember, you can still paint walls at the farmhouse."
Alena chuckled despite being nervous. "I'll keep that as a backup plan."
For the first time, he smiled at her, not his usual annoying smirk, not his mocking grin, but a real smile. "Thank God you're alive. I thought you were dead again for a second."
She blinked at him, but before she could reply, he pushed a water bottle into her hands. "Here. Before you go in, drink some water and calm down."
Alena uncapped the bottle with trembling hands and gulped it down in one go.
Aiden watched her silently, something strange stirring in his chest. He thought of how much she had lost in the last ten years, her childhood, her teenage years, her chances, her confidence, her innocence. All stolen by people who had left scars deeper than he could see. She would've been someone else by now, a charming, confident, bright woman. Instead, she was here, trembling, fragile, trying to rebuild from ruins.
It made him feel something he didn't like admitting. Pity, protectiveness, guilt all tangled.
Her hand still shook slightly as she held the bottle. Without thinking, Aiden reached out and patted her head gently. "Don't be nervous, nuisance. If something happens to you, the boss will actually break my bones."
A laugh escaped her, sudden and small. "Am I really that much of a nuisance to you?"
"Kind of," he admitted with a teasing grin. "You bother me all the time. Asking me for things. I've become more like a babysitter."
Alena gave him a mock glare, her lips pouting slightly. The expression almost tugged another smile from him, a charming one. No wonder that saleswoman gave him her number so easily, she thought briefly.
"Don't waste time," he said, straightening. "I've got other work to do. Go finish your procedures."
She nodded, inhaling deeply. With the form and portfolio clutched close, she walked toward room 303.
The room was quiet, save for the faint scratch of a pen against paper. Behind a desk sat a woman with silver-streaked hair tied neatly at the back. Her sharp eyes lifted the moment Alena entered, and something about her gaze made Alena's skin prickle. It wasn't unkind, but it saw too much.
"Sit," the professor said.
Alena obeyed, setting her portfolio down with fingers that trembled.
The professor opened it, turning each page slowly. A charcoal sketch of trembling hands. A watercolor painting of butterflies in the farmhouse garden. An oil painting, stormy and chaotic, with colors clashing against each other like a battlefield of emotions.
The pen in the professor's hand tapped gently against the desk as she lingered on the last one. "You paint emotions. Not just shapes."
Alena's throat tightened. She said nothing.
"Where did you study before?" the professor asked.
Alena hesitated. "Nowhere. I've only been teaching myself these past months."
The professor's eyes lifted, piercing but calm. "No formal background… yet you captured emotions in a way most students can't even after years. Why do you want to study here?"
Alena's heart pounded. She thought of nights where her brush slipped from tired fingers, of colors smeared with tears. Of how painting had kept her alive when nothing else could.
"Because art is… the only way I can breathe some days," she whispered. "I want to learn. To be better. To… to live in it fully."
Silence stretched. Then the professor closed the portfolio gently and folded her hands.
"Your classes will start next week," she said simply. Then, her gaze softened ever so slightly. "You have something raw. Don't lose it while learning the technique."
Alena's chest loosened, relief rushing through her like a tide. She bowed deeply. "Thank you."
When she stepped outside, the sunlight poured over her face. The world looked brighter, warmer.
For the first time in years, Alena felt she was walking toward something that belonged to her, not just survival, but life.
The car hummed steadily along the road, the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the windshield, bathing Alena's face in gold. She was practically glowing, her grin refusing to fade as she hugged her sketchbook close to her chest. Her eyes sparkled with relief, hope, and a kind of joy she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
Aiden glanced at her, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. "Can you please stop smiling like a fool?" he muttered, his tone dry, but the corner of his mouth twitched as though betraying something softer.
Alena turned to him, grin unshaken. "Why do you always have to pretend to be rude with me? When you actually care for me."
He scoffed, eyes fixed on the road. "Pretend? And care for you?"
She raised her brows, narrowing her eyes at him as though challenging him to keep up the charade. He could feel her gaze burning into the side of his face, and eventually he snapped his eyes back to her with a sharp, "What's with that look?"
Alena leaned slightly forward, voice steady but soft. "You filled in your information under the guardian section."
Aiden's grip tightened on the wheel. He gave a quick shrug. "What about that?"
Her smile gentled, losing its playful edge. "It felt like I have someone. Kind of like family."
For a moment, Aiden didn't answer. His jaw flexed, and he let out a mocking scoff, though it sounded thinner this time. "Oh, hello? Don't think too much. I just filled out my info because it was mandatory, and you told me you don't have anyone. Also, for some reason, my last name is also Carrel, so it made sense to me, so I put my info down."
Alena's lips curved into a softer smile, not her usual teasing one, but a quiet, heartfelt expression. "Whatever you say. Still, I felt touched. Thank you."
The words came gently, sinking into the silence between them. Her tone was so warm, filled with gratitude, that it left no room for his sarcasm.
Aiden didn't argue further. He kept his eyes forward, though the muscle in his cheek ticked as though he were swallowing back words he refused to let out.
The rest of the drive fell into a kind of peace. Alena leaned her head against the window, still clutching her sketchbook, her mind painting images of her future, bright studios, the scent of oil paints, the scratch of charcoal against paper, and her life moving towards something real, meaningful.
Her smile lingered as the farmhouse finally came into view, its familiar outline steady and welcoming against the fading light.