The school courtyard buzzed with excitement — the annual cultural festival was just a week away. Streamers hung from the trees, music floated through the corridors, and the scent of freshly painted backdrops filled the air.
Suzanne stood with her friends in the middle of the chaos, her clipboard clutched tightly. "Okay, team," she announced, trying to sound serious. "We've got one week to make this festival perfect. Let's make some magic!"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Bossy much?"
"Effective leadership," Suzanne corrected, flashing a grin.
Mia giggled. "I vote Suzanne as permanent captain — Ryan can be her assistant."
Arjun nodded. "Agreed. Someone has to keep him in line."
"Hey!" Ryan protested, but his grin gave him away.
For the next few days, life was a blur of laughter and color. Suzanne spent her afternoons painting stage banners with Mia, practicing the group dance routine, and sneaking snacks behind the teacher's back with Ryan.
One evening, as they decorated the classroom, Ryan looked at her and said, "You know, you fit here now. Like… you've always been part of this group."
Suzanne paused, holding a strand of fairy lights. "You think so?"
"Yeah," he said simply. "You make people smile without even trying."
She laughed, a little shyly. "Then my job here is done."
"Not yet," he replied, adjusting a crooked light above her head. "You still owe me a dance on stage."
"Only if you promise not to trip over your own feet," she teased.
He placed a hand over his heart. "I'll practice… for you."
Their laughter echoed in the empty classroom as the lights shimmered softly around them.
That night, Suzanne returned home exhausted but glowing with happiness. Her mother was reading on the couch. "You look like you've had a wonderful day," she said warmly.
"I did," Suzanne smiled. "It finally feels like… everything's falling into place."
Her mother nodded, though her eyes lingered on Suzanne's pale cheeks. "Just don't overwork yourself, sweetheart."
"I won't, Mom. Promise."
But as Suzanne brushed her hair before bed, her reflection blurred for a split second — a dizzy spell, quick but sharp. She gripped the sink, waiting for it to pass.
When it did, she straightened up, forcing a smile at her reflection.
Not tonight, she told herself. I'm too happy for this to mean anything.
She picked up her phone and texted Ryan:
> Suzanne: You better practice tomorrow. No excuses.
Ryan: Who says I need practice?
Suzanne: Your two left feet.
She laughed quietly as she hit send.
Then she turned off the light, unaware that the next few days — the festival, the laughter, and one unforgettable moment — would bring her closer to the truth she wasn't ready to face yet.