Anaya always preferred the back corner of the classroom. It was quiet, hidden, the perfect spot to disappear into her sketchbook while the rest of the world went on without her. Today, like most days, her pencil moved quickly across the page, filling the blank paper with lines and shades that only she could imagine.
The chatter of classmates was just background noise until a shadow fell across her desk.
"I think you dropped this," a voice said.
Anaya looked up, startled. Kian—handsome, popular, and effortlessly confident—was holding her sketchbook. Her stomach did a ridiculous flip, and for a moment, she couldn't speak.
"Uh… thanks," she whispered finally, trying to sound calm.
Kian flipped through the pages slowly, his eyes lingering on a drawing of a girl with flowing hair and a dreamy expression. "You draw… really well," he said. There was no teasing, no fake flattery—just genuine admiration.
Anaya felt her cheeks burn. She looked down at her hands, wishing she could melt into the floor. "Th-thank you," she stammered again.
The classroom bell rang, snapping both of them out of the moment. Kian handed back the sketchbook with a small, curious smile. "Keep it up," he said before walking away.
Anaya blinked after him, her heart pounding like a drum. A sketchbook, a simple notebook, had never felt so dangerous—or exciting.
Little did she know, this brief encounter would be the first spark of something that could change everything: a crush, a mystery, and perhaps… her one chance.