Alex took a deep breath and looked at Mia, who gave her a small, confident smile.
It was time to put all their hard work to the test.
Alex's eyes scanned the test paper, her mind already sketching the designs that had lived in her imagination for weeks. She picked up her pen and began to write.
Section One: Pattern Drafting and Fabric Measurement.
Her lines were clean and sure. Each measurement was precise, each curve deliberate.
Section Two: Cutting and Sewing Practical.
The sound of scissors slicing through fabric filled the room. Alex's fingers moved gracefully — the hum of the sewing machines blended into a rhythm that calmed her nerves.
Section Three: Creative Design and Presentation.
She let her imagination take flight — sketching a flowing, modern gown with intricate hand-stitched details. Her concept was inspired by "Resilience," representing strength through elegance.
By the time they were done, the classroom buzzed with mixed emotions. Some students looked crushed, others neutral. A few smiled in quiet triumph — Mia and Alex among them.
As soon as they stepped out of the fashion house, Mia nudged Alex with a grin.
"Race you to Clara's canteen!"
"Deal!" Alex laughed.
And before anyone could blink, the two of them sprinted down the street, their laughter echoing behind them.
When they finally burst through the canteen doors, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, Clara looked at them in shock.
"Mia! Alex! What's all this? Why are you running like chased chickens?" she scolded playfully. "You'll both be smelly in no time!"
"Sorry, big sis," Alex panted, bending over.
Clara rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. "Victoria, please get them some food before they start chasing away my customers with that sweat smell!"
The two girls brightened instantly at the mention of food.
Minutes later, they were seated with steaming plates in front of them.
"This food is sooo good," Mia mumbled with her mouth full.
"Mmmhh," Alex hummed, eyes closed in bliss.
Their satisfied expressions drew amused glances from nearby customers — some even smiled, and a few new customers placed their orders after seeing how much the girls enjoyed their meals.
When they were done eating, Alex and Mia leaned back in their seats, reluctant to leave.
"Big sis, maybe we should just live here," Alex teased.
Clara folded her arms with mock sternness. "Not in this lifetime! Out, both of you! I love you girls, but I'm not raising two lazy kittens in my canteen."
The girls laughed and stood up, still smiling as they left — their hearts and stomachs full. Mia went home to rest, while Alex promised to return later to help her sister.
~~~
Across the Miles — Muiz's Journey
That same night, after finishing his midnight DJ gig, Muiz packed his things and caught an early morning bus heading to Iban, a neighboring state in Alaschal, where his mother lived.
As he sat by the window, the city lights fading behind him, his mind drifted back to his last conversation with Alex. He smiled faintly. When I get home, he thought, I'll call her.
The trip took just three hours. When the bus finally pulled into the Iban terminal, Muiz stepped down, stretched, and hailed a taxi to his uncle's house — the place his mother, Zara, had been staying for years.
The house had once been the pride of the street, painted a cheerful yellow with white fences. But now, its colors had faded, and cracks lined the walls. Still, to Muiz, it was home — a place wrapped in memories.
He smiled as flashes of his childhood filled his mind.
Life had not been easy growing up. His father had three wives, and the third — the favorite — had made life miserable for everyone else. Yet, Muiz had always been different. Instead of growing bitter, he had found quiet strength in his mother's patience.
Zara — his mother — had been the last child of an aged couple, gentle yet strong. Muiz remembered how she used to hawk under the hot sun, selling food just to feed him and his siblings. He also remembered sneaking food from their already small portions to give to his father's other children — even the ones who mocked him.
And then came the day his father, in a fit of anger, had beaten her and thrown her out — all for the sake of his favorite wife.
Even then, Muiz couldn't bring himself to hate the man. Whenever he visited Iban, he secretly checked on his father, hoping he was still well.
~~~
When he arrived at the house that morning, his aunt greeted him warmly.
"Muiz! You've grown so much. Come in, my dear."
He smiled politely, greeted her, and went straight to the small shed at the back of the house — where his mother cooked and sold food.
The moment Zara saw him, her eyes lit up.
"Muiz!" she gasped, her voice trembling with emotion. "My son, you're here."
She rushed forward and took his hands in hers, tears glistening in her eyes — tears she refused to let fall.
"Mother, I've missed you," Muiz said softly.
"Have you eaten?" she asked quickly, wiping her eyes. "What would you like me to cook for you?"
"Anything you make is perfect," he said with a small smile, sitting down as she began moving about her small outdoor kitchen.
He watched her work, feeling a wave of tenderness. This woman — tired but unbroken — had been the foundation of his life.
After eating, he spent the day with her, talking and laughing. Later, he went to visit some childhood friends, and then — quietly — he paid a visit to his father.
The man looked frail, his illness visible in his weak frame.
"Get well soon, Father," Muiz said gently before leaving. Despite everything, he couldn't ignore the man who gave him life.
When he returned, he told his mother about the visit.
"You should go see him, Mama," he advised softly. "No matter what he did, he's still your husband. He needs someone now. Even his favorite wife isn't around to care for him."
Zara sighed deeply. "You have your father's heart," she murmured. "Always forgiving."
The next morning, Muiz handed her some money before leaving.
"Take care of yourself, Mama. I'll come again soon," he promised.
She hugged him tightly. "Go well, my son. May your road always be clear."
As he boarded the bus back to Alagna, his phone buzzed with a message.
It was from Alex.
> Hey, I finally got a new phone! It was a birthday gift from my sister.
Muiz smiled instantly and replied:
> Happy birthday in arrears.
Her response came a few moments later.
> Thank you
He stared at the message for a while, still smiling.
As the bus engine roared to life, Muiz leaned back in his seat and thought to himself, When I get back, I'll visit her at her sister's canteen.
And with that thought, he drifted into sleep