In front of a building marked 3rd-year Block, three boys stood staring at a girl at the far end of the road. She was radiant, sunlight catching her hair just right, every step she took seeming almost unreal.
"No matter how many times I see her, it still feels like the first time," one boy breathed.
"Yes. I think I could live my whole life just staring at her," the second agreed dreamily.
"You know—" the third began, but a handsome boy cuffed him lightly on the back of the head.
"What are you doing?" the handsome boy asked.
"We were talking about the Angel of our school," the first boy said, gesturing at the girl.
The handsome boy gave a thin smile as he watched her.
Noticing it, the third boy frowned. "Why are you smiling like that?"
"You call her the Angel of our school?" the handsome boy teased.
The third boy stiffened. "She never dated anyone. She is pure like an Angel, looks like an Angel, and has the heart of an Angel."
The handsome boy smiled with confidence. "What will you bet if I make her date me?"
The third boy's face twisted in outrage. "Fine, I'll bet his wife," he declared, jabbing a finger toward the first boy.
"What? How can you bet my future wife?" the first boy snapped.
The handsome boy and the second boy burst into laughter.
Still chuckling, the handsome boy said, "I'm not joking, you idiot."
"I'm not joking either," the third boy shot back. "I am seriously betting his wife."
The first boy started shouting again while the handsome boy doubled over laughing.
After a moment he straightened, wiped his eyes, and said firmly, "Mist, be serious."
Mist snorted. "Fine. One thousand silver."
Before the handsome boy could reply, the first boy groaned, "Alex, don't. She's out of your league."
The second boy added, "And you promised Daisy you'd stop playing around."
Alex shrugged. "Daisy is a hundred kilometers away. She will never find out. And it will be just one date. Nothing to worry about."
Mist clapped to recapture everyone's attention. "So, are we still on?"
Alex smirked. "Ready to lose?"
Mist smirked back. "I already know you're ready to lose. You do not need to say it."
Alex did not answer. Still smiling, he walked toward the girl.
On the way, he passed a boy kneeling with a rose bouquet, proposing to a girl who accepted. Alex paused beside them.
"Can I take one?" he asked.
The girl nodded, and he plucked a single rose before continuing on.
"Did you see that?" the first boy whispered. "That guy was proposing to her."
"Alex wasn't named the playboy of the school for nothing," the second boy said. "Mist is doomed."
Mist folded his arms. "Wait. He hasn't asked her yet."
Just before Alex reached the Angel-like girl, a group of boys and girls stepped out of the building behind her. One girl in the group froze the moment she saw him. Seeing her stop, the rest halted as well.
Unaware, Alex smiled brightly at the Angel-like girl and held out the rose.
She blushed and reached for it—but before her fingers touched the stem, Alex's eyes slid past her. He saw the halted girl behind. Without a pause, he continued walking and stopped in front of her instead.
He offered the rose to her and said warmly, "I missed you, Daisy."
Her eyes widened. Tears spilled instantly. She leaped into his arms and clung to him.
"I missed you so much," she whispered, her voice soft yet strangely hollow, her eyes empty despite the embrace.
"CUT!"
The loud shout echoed through the street. Instantly everything froze. The boys, the Angel-like girl, the group behind her, the couple, the crowds walking along the road—everyone dropped their act at once.
Alex and Daisy separated immediately, stepping back as if they had never met.
Around them, staff lowered boom mics, cameras, reflectors, and lights. Assistants in black rushed toward the actors with umbrellas and shoulder bags.
A man stormed toward Daisy, shouting, "Do you think this is a joke? Can't you grasp the depth of this scene? Or were you mocking me? The writers? Your co-actors? The entire staff working for you?"
Daisy said nothing. She did not defend herself. She simply stood still.
Her silence only enraged him further. "It is my foolishness to allow a D-Grade actress to act in my movie!"
Before he could erupt again, an old man arrived and placed a firm hand on the director's shoulder.
"Stop," he said.
His voice was deep, rough, and carried quiet authority.
"What was your name again? … Doesn't matter. I will call you director for now." His eyes burned. "Perhaps she simply wasn't ready for the shot."
The director looked away.
The old man stepped past him and approached Daisy. He gently patted her head. "We will skip this scene for now. We will return to it when the heroine is ready."
"But how can we—" the director began.
One look at the old man's furious glare silenced him instantly.
Then the old man raised his voice so everyone could hear.
"As the current acting representative of the production house, I command everyone to pack up and move to Scene 52 as scheduled!"
At once the crew bustled into action, gathering equipment, folding reflectors, dismantling lights, and preparing for the next location.
----
"Shooting will commence in three minutes!" the director shouted, still bristling with leftover anger.
The crew scattered at once, slipping behind walls, cars, trees, anything that hid them from the frame.
A dented car was dragged into position. Fake blood was splattered on the road. Alex lay on the asphalt, motionless, crimson soaking his clothes. Daisy stood behind a rusted side gate, calm and unreadable.
The director, seated in his chair, raised a hand and gave a brisk thumbs-up.
Everyone snapped into their working stances.
"Lights, camera, action!"
The scene began.
Daisy's relaxed face shifted instantly. Shock bloomed across her features, raw and sudden, as though she had glimpsed something monstrous. With wide, frightened eyes, she stepped toward the gate—big, hesitant steps, each one heavier than the last.
As she drew closer, her expression deepened, astonishment stretching into something sharper, deeper. She reached the gate, froze for a single heartbeat, and in that heartbeat her face shattered into heartbreak. Tears filled her eyes until they looked ready to spill, trembling there at the edge.
With that same crushed expression, she pushed the gate open. Her body moved as if pulled by invisible strings, dragged forward by something terrible and inevitable. Each step she took toward Alex seemed to drain her, as though she were losing pieces of her soul along the way.
By the time she reached his side, the life in her face was gone. Her eyes were hollow, emptied.
She kneeled slowly. Her hand trembled as she reached for Alex's head, touching his hair with painful tenderness. But when her fingers brushed the warmth of blood, she jerked back in shock.
A moment later, she lowered her hand to the blood pooled on the road. A single drop clung to her fingertip, slid free, fell, and splattered. As she watched it hit the pavement, whatever remained inside her collapsed. She fell completely, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud that sent more blood splashing upward, flecking her clothes.
She lay there, drenched in red. Thin tears leaked from the corners of her deadened eyes, trickling down her cheeks and mixing with the blood beneath her.
The entire set went silent. In that silence, everyone swore they could hear her heartbeat racing… until they realized it was their own. Their hearts were pounding so hard they felt the rhythm echoing in their skulls.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
The silence stretched, long and endless, until—
"Cut!"
The old man's voice snapped through the air, sharp and commanding. The director himself sat frozen in awe, unable to speak.
Daisy rose immediately, wiping the tears from her face. She shook blood from her fingertips and called out, "Mice!"
Her voice echoed, but nothing happened.
She called again, louder. "Mice!"
A distant boy jerked upright. "Ah!"
His tiny exclamation carried perfectly in the quiet. Daisy called a third time. "Mice, come here!"
He snapped out of his trance and sprinted toward her. He placed a mirror in her hand and began wiping her arms and shoulders with a towel from his bag. She used the second towel he offered to clean her face. Within moments, all trace of grief vanished; she looked completely normal again, bright and composed.
Only then did the crew begin breathing normally. People blinked, wiped sweat from their brows, and muttered under their breath as they processed what they had just witnessed.
Daisy walked over to the old man, her face glowing with ease and confidence that seemed impossibly far from the agony she had shown seconds earlier. The old man patted her head, just as before.
She turned to the still-stunned director and asked gently, "Shall we do the next scene?"
He shot to his feet. "Pack up! That's it for today. We continue tomorrow at six in the morning!"
He turned sharply and strode away without looking at anyone.It seemed he did not want them to see the shame on his face.
Daisy and the old man exchanged a quiet chuckle.
After a moment, she bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, sir."
He paused, softening. "Any plans for the day?"
"No sir. I will just go home and sleep."
He smiled warmly. "All right, young lady."
She smiled back and began walking away.
The old man sighed dramatically. "Oh, poor me! No one to accompany me…"When he turned, she was already far down the road, too far to hear.
He watched her for a long moment, the smile lingering on his lips."Isha," he murmured. "I owe you, I think."
Then he looked up at the sky and said quietly, "What are we waiting for?"
And he vanished, disappearing into thin air as if he had never been there at all.