Nyara Pov
The last brushstroke dried, the vibrant colors on the canvases a testament to the Tanaka siblings' newfound artistic endeavors. "Thank you, Nyara," Lori said, her smile genuine. "I really enjoyed the class. We'd love to do this again."
"Me too!" Kira chimed in, her eyes sparkling. "You're an amazing teacher."
Lori hesitated, then asked, "Would it be okay if we followed each other on socials?"
I paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing my mind. But Lori seemed genuinely nice, and a small part of me craved a connection, a friend. "Sure," I said, offering her my handle. Maybe I'm finally making a friend, I thought.
Kira, the youngest, was still buzzing with excitement, her eyes wide with awe. "You're really an Alister," she said, her voice filled with a childlike wonder. "That's so cool!" I smiled at her, amused by her enthusiasm.
Aiden, Tyler, and Hayden helped me pack up the heavier art supplies, their movements efficient and silent. Kade, however, remained quiet, a faint blush dusting his cheeks whenever our eyes met.
Then there was Hayden. His gaze, dark and intense, lingered on me, a strange, almost predatory look in his eyes. A shiver ran down my spine, a primal instinct telling me to stay away from him.
I glanced over at Iyla, who was proudly displaying her artwork to Kira and Lori, her little face beaming. Even though she was still a little shy, she was eager to show them her drawings. Kira's delighted squeals of "so cute!" and "adorable!" made Iyla hide her face behind her teddy bear, a shy giggle escaping her lips.
I chuckled, walking over to them. Lori and the others joined in the laughter, but Hayden's expression remained blank, his eyes fixed on Iyla. It made me uneasy.
As they left, I watched them through the studio window. The sheer number of guards surrounding them was unnerving. They must be really important people, I thought.
The empty studio felt strangely quiet after their departure. The image of the Tanaka siblings, laughing and interacting, lingered in my mind. It made me think of my own family, the phone calls I'd ignored, the guilt that gnawed at me.
Back home, I cooked dinner for Iyla, setting her up at the table with her favorite cartoon playing. "Mommy needs to make an important phone call," I told her. "I'll be right back."
"Okay, Mommy," she said, her eyes glued to the screen.
I retreated to my room, closing the door behind me. My phone felt heavy in my hand, my finger hovering over my mother's name. After a deep breath, I pressed the call button. The phone rang, and then, her voice, filled with a mixture of worry and relief, filled my ear.