Days turned into weeks, and the small routines of Arin's life continued almost the same.
Morning classes.
Afternoon Volleyball practice.
Evenings with his sketchbook.
But something small had begun to change.
His drawings.
At first, Arin's sketches were simple.
But now his lines looked more confident.
The eyes he drew had more emotion.
Hair flowed more naturally.
Even the small details—like fingers or clothing folds—looked more alive than before.
Arin didn't notice the improvement much himself.
He was always focused on what he still couldn't draw well.
Sometimes he stared at a drawing for ten minutes, erasing and redrawing the same line again and again.
But other people were starting to notice.
One evening, while checking notifications on Instagram, Arin saw a new message request.
It was from another small artist.
The username was "MikaSketch."
The message was simple.
"Hey, I saw your drawing that was shared last week. Your style is really calm. Do you
practice every day?"
Arin looked at the message quietly for a moment.
He didn't usually talk to people online.
But something about the message felt friendly.
After a minute, he typed a reply.
"Yes. I draw a little every day."
That night they exchanged a few more messages.
Mika was also a young artist who liked anime-style drawings.
Sometimes they shared their sketches with each other.
Sometimes they simply talked about which pencils or brushes they used.
It wasn't a deep friendship.
But for Arin, it was the first time someone regularly talked to him about art.
And strangely… it made drawing feel even more enjoyable.
Meanwhile, far away in Japan, Hina's days had become busier than ever.
Her follower count continued rising.
With popularity came more expectations.
More videos.
More content.
More people watching everything she did.
At first, she loved it.
But recently, she had begun to feel tired.
Some nights she sat in her room staring at her phone, trying to think of new ideas for her next video.
"What should I film tomorrow…?" she whispered to herself.
Sometimes inspiration came easily.
Other times it didn't.
And when she felt tired, the negative comments seemed louder than before.
She tried to stay cheerful in her videos.
Her followers loved her smile.
But behind the screen, there were moments when she simply turned off her phone and sat quietly by the window.
Looking at the city lights.
Breathing slowly.
Trying to clear her thoughts.
Back in Northeast India, Arin's world remained much simpler.
One evening after dinner, he opened Instagram again.
His follower count had slowly climbed past 140.
It still felt small compared to the massive accounts online.
But Arin didn't care much about numbers.
He cared more about the drawings themselves.
That night he posted another sketch.
A girl standing in the wind, her hair flowing gently as she looked toward the sky.
After posting, he visited Hina's page again, as he always did.
Her newest reel had bright city lights in the background.
She was smiling again.
But something about her eyes looked slightly more tired than usual.
Arin couldn't explain why he noticed that.
Maybe he was imagining it.
Still, he left another comment.
"I hope you have a peaceful night."
Then he closed the app and returned to his sketchbook.
The next day at school felt ordinary.
The classrooms were warm and noisy.
Students talked loudly while waiting for the teacher to arrive.
Arin sat near the window, quietly sketching small shapes in the corner of his notebook.
Suddenly, the classroom door opened.
The school monitor stepped inside holding a sheet of paper.
He cleared his throat.
"Everyone listen for a moment."
The class slowly became quiet.
"There will be an inter-school volleyball tournament next month," he announced.
Murmurs immediately spread across the room.
Several students looked excited.
The monitor continued reading from the paper.
"Each class can recommend players for the school team.
Practice sessions will start soon."
Arin slowly looked up from his notebook.
Across the classroom, some of the boys from the volleyball team were already whispering excitedly to each other.
The afternoon sunlight fell across the dusty classroom floor.
And for the first time in many quiet weeks…
something in Arin's calm routine had begun to shift.