The school announcement echoed through the loudspeakers:
"Attention students! The annual school festival will take place in two weeks! Prepare your art, music, and performances!"
Anaya blinked. Two weeks. That wasn't much time. Her fingers itched to start working, but a familiar wave of nervousness washed over her. Showing her art—even anonymously—felt terrifying. What if no one liked it? What if someone recognized her style?
Rhea bounced beside her during lunch. "You have to enter your sketches! Your art is amazing, Anaya. Everyone should see it."
"I don't know…" Anaya said, poking at her lunch. "I mean… what if someone laughs at it?"
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Laughs? At your art? Not gonna happen. You're amazing. And besides," she leaned in conspiratorially, "you never know—someone might even… appreciate it." She wiggled her eyebrows.
Anaya felt her cheeks warm. Appreciate it? Did she mean…? She quickly shoved the thought away, focusing instead on the practical: choosing which pieces to display.
Meanwhile, Kian sat with Veer under a tree near the courtyard. Veer nudged him. "You've been staring at her a lot lately. That art obsession thing—you're acting way too obvious."
Kian shrugged, trying to appear casual, but his gaze kept drifting toward the art classroom window. "I just… she's good. Really good. And whoever this mystery artist is… I need to find out who they are."
Veer smirked. "You mean you're obsessed. Admit it."
Kian groaned. "Fine. Maybe a little. But it's not my fault the art is incredible."
Back in the classroom, Anaya opened her sketchbook. She stared at her drawings. Could she really submit these for the festival? Her hand shook as she selected a few pieces. Each line and shade was personal. Every sketch was a piece of herself. Showing them to the school—everyone—felt like stepping off a cliff.
Rhea leaned over her shoulder. "Pick these. Definitely these. They'll wow everyone, I promise."
Anaya hesitated, then nodded slowly. Maybe it was time to take a chance. Maybe… this could be her moment.
During art club later that afternoon, Anaya set up her workspace. Her hands trembled as she pinned sketches to the board, arranging them just so. She glanced at the door—hoping no one would notice too closely.
And of course, Kian happened to walk by the window. His eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw the sketches. Something about them—he couldn't explain—felt familiar. He frowned, curious, already plotting how he might uncover the artist's identity.
The school festival was only days away, but for both Anaya and Kian, the tension and excitement had already begun.