The college was busy these days. Annual day was approaching, and the campus buzzed with activity like a beehive kicked awake in spring. Students rushed between classrooms and rehearsal halls, carrying costumes, props, and sheets of music. Some dragged large cardboard cutouts while others practiced lines under their breath while walking. Posters decorated the walls in every color imaginable, advertising dance performances, skits, musical acts, and something called a "Talent Fiesta" that no one could quite explain.

Krystal had registered her name for a dance performance. She was practicing every evening, perfecting her moves and choosing her outfit. She was going to be the star of the show. She could already feel the spotlight on her face, the applause in her ears, and the envious glances from other girls. Her costume was red, tight, and sequined. It would catch every light and every eye.

Her friend Annie worked in the admin office. She was the one who registered students for performances, managed the schedules, and assigned the rehearsal times. She was also, as Krystal had long since discovered, easily manipulated. A kind word here. A sympathetic story there. Annie bent like a willow in the wind.

Krystal stopped by the admin office after lunch, leaning against the counter with a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, Annie," Krystal said, tilting her head. "Can you do me a favor?"

Annie looked up from her computer, pushing her glasses up her nose. "What kind of favor?"

Krystal leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "My friend, she’s really sick. She was supposed to register for the dance performance, but she’s been in bed for days. She’s so upset about missing it."

Annie frowned, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. "The deadline was yesterday."

"I know." Krystal’s expression shifted to sad, sympathetic, and wounded. She even managed to make her lower lip tremble slightly. "But she’s been through so much, and she’s really talented. It would mean the world to her if she could still perform."

Annie hesitated. Her eyes flickered to the clock, then to the stack of forms on her desk, then back to Krystal’s pleading face.

Krystal pressed, leaning in just a little more. "Please? It’s just a name. She’ll handle the rest. You won’t get in trouble. I promise."

Annie sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. What’s her name?"

Krystal’s smile returned, quick and bright. "Isabella. From Computer Science."

Annie’s fingers tapped the keyboard. "Last name?"

Krystal blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. "I don’t know. She’s new. Just put Isabella."

Annie typed the name into the system. "Isabella. Computer Science. Dance performance. After your slot?"

Krystal’s smile widened, sharp and satisfied. "Yes. After mine."

Annie nodded and saved the entry.

Krystal thanked her profusely, throwing in an extra "You’re the best!" and a little wave as she walked out of the office. Her heels clicked against the floor, each step lighter than the last.

Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass.

Now Bella would have to perform in front of the whole university, in front of professors and executives and that gorgeous, mysterious man who had ignored Krystal at the football field. She would stumble. She would freeze. She would embarrass herself so thoroughly that no one would ever forget it.

And Krystal would be there, watching from the wings, triumphant.

She imagined Bella’s face: pale, panicked, humiliated. She imagined the whispers rippling through the crowd, the laughter barely suppressed behind hands, the pitying looks from the judges. She imagined how small Bella would look on that stage, alone and unprepared, like a deer caught in headlights.

And maybe, just maybe, that hot guy would finally notice Krystal. Would see how graceful she was, how confident, how sexy. Would see her red sequined dress, her perfect smile, and her flawless dance moves. Would realize that Bella was nothing compared to her.

Krystal’s heart raced with excitement.

She couldn’t wait.

However, she didn’t notice that behind her, Annie looked at her with a complicated expression and then laughed silently.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Bella sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone pressed to her ear, her eyes fixed on the blank wall across the room. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, painting warm stripes across her blanket.

Miss J’s voice came through the speaker, warm, teasing, and familiar. "I’m sorry, sweet girl. I had some problems back at home, and I finally got free time." She paused, and Bella could almost hear her smiling. "I wanted to ask, did your favorite person like the painting?"

Bella’s stomach dropped.

The painting. She had forgotten about it completely. The canvas was still wrapped in brown paper, sitting in her personal PC room, gathering dust. She had been so caught up in the stalker, the presentation, Krystal’s betrayal, and Leo’s injuries. She hadn’t thought about it at all.

Bella’s voice came out small. "No," she said quietly. "He didn’t come back. And I forgot about it."

Miss J was silent for a moment. "You forgot?"

Bella winced at the gentle disappointment in Miss J’s tone. "I’ve had a lot going on."

Miss J’s voice softened immediately. "I know, sweetheart. I know." There was a pause and a soft breath. "But now that you remember, are you going to show him?"

Bella hesitated.

She thought about the painting, the stormy sky, the lightning, the waiting. She had poured her heart into it, her love, her fear. But it wasn’t perfect. The strokes were messy, the colors too dark, the composition unbalanced. An art professor would probably cry.

Leo always said she was perfect at everything. He praised her intelligence, her skills, and her beauty. He looked at her like she could do no wrong, like she hung the moon and stars just for him.

What if the painting ruined that? What if he looked at it and saw someone ordinary? Someone flawed? Someone who wasn’t the perfect wife he had imagined? What if he felt obligated to praise it, and she could hear the lie in his voice?