Since my encounter with Aurelia, things had shifted in ways I didn't quite understand. Before I met her, I’d built her up in my mind—a perfect image of the girl I first saw by the pond, drying her hair in the sun. Her beauty, her simplicity—it had drawn me in like a moth to a flame. She seemed as distant as a star in the night sky, her presence ethereal and elusive. Even when I saw her from afar, standing by the tree, or heard her name, my curiosity burned deeper, almost unbearable.

But after I finally spoke with her, something changed within me. It was as if the idealized image I had created faded, exposing a more intricate reality. She was still beautiful and mysterious, but something about the way she spoke, the way she carried herself with pride, felt unsettling to me. It felt as though she was condescending towards me as if she stood on a pedestal I could never reach. The curiosity that had once consumed me faded, leaving behind nothing but a sense of detachment. I didn’t feel drawn to her anymore; instead, I felt a sense of peace settling over me like a soft blanket.

Maybe it was better this way, as this newfound peace allowed me to focus on what truly mattered to me. Aurelia no longer occupied my thoughts, and with Marcus mysteriously leaving us alone for the past few days, it felt like the calm before the storm. But I wasn’t going to wait for that storm; I was determined to take charge of my destiny by focusing on something within my control—my drawing.

I spent more time sketching than ever before, retreating to the quiet corners of the orphanage. The world around me often blurred as I lost myself in the vibrant colours of my imagination. It wasn't merely a distraction; it was evolving into something profound, a connection I deeply felt. I’d lose myself in the quiet moments when the chalk scraped the paper, each line slowly transforming into something meaningful, something that felt like a part of me. I often settled under the old tree near the broken wall overlooking the pond, where the whispers of nature danced around me. Sometimes, I’d sneak up to the attic near the stairs, seeking solace where sunlight streamed in through the small window, illuminating my sketches like hidden treasures.

Each stroke of the chalk felt like a release, enabling me to express my tangled thoughts on the page gradually. The tree I sketched seemed stronger today, the lines bolder, the branches reaching higher, just like my dreams of escaping the confines of the orphanage. I drew, capturing the wind by making the leaves bend while ensuring the trunk remained rooted. No matter what, it stayed grounded, just like I needed to be. In my mind, the tree and I were one, both struggling to break free from our boundaries.

One of my sketches showed the old tree with its roots creeping into the earth but its branches stretching out toward the sky, almost as if it were trying to escape the confines of the orphanage. I stared at it for a long time, thinking about how much it felt like my own situation—trapped yet reaching for something more. I didn’t realize I had been sitting there for hours until Ellie’s quiet footsteps approached.

Ellie's silent steps often caught me off guard, her presence akin to a gentle breeze stirring leaves. When I looked up, there she was, standing nearby with that thoughtful expression she always wore, her eyes scanning the page in front of me.

“What are you up to, Lumen?” She asked, her voice gentle and filled with curiosity, like the tinkling of windchimes on a sunny day.

I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. “Just... drawing.”

Ellie stepped closer, her eyes never leaving the page. “I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time drawing lately.”

I nodded, focusing back on the sketch. “Yeah, I guess.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment; she just stood there, watching me. I could feel her gaze, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Ellie possessed a keen ability to absorb her surroundings in silence. She could notice the faint rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees or the subtle shift in shadows on the walls as the sun moved across the sky. During quieter moments, she’d spot the tiny, intricate patterns woven into the old wallpaper that most of us missed or sense the almost imperceptible change in someone's mood, like the way Sarah’s eyes softened when she spoke about her favourite books. Her perceptive gaze captured these details with a precision that often revealed more about the world around her than she ever shared aloud. It was one of the things I liked about her—she never pushed too hard, allowing us to exist in our own little worlds.

“Can I see?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

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I hesitated, my hand hovering over the page. No one had seen my drawings, not since I’d started spending more time on them. But something about the way Ellie asked made it hard to say no.

I sighed and held out the paper. “It’s not quite finished yet,” I said quietly.

Ellie took the sketch carefully, her fingers brushing the edges of the paper. She studied it for a long time, her brow furrowed in concentration. I watched her, trying to gauge what she was thinking, but her face gave nothing away.

“This is impressive,” she said finally, her voice warm and sincere like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm.

I shrugged again, feeling a little embarrassed. “It’s just... something I do.”

Ellie handed the drawing back, her eyes meeting mine. There was something in her gaze, a flicker of understanding that seemed to bridge the gap between us. “You know, I think the others would appreciate seeing this,” she suggested softly.

I shook my head. “It’s not ready.”

Ellie nodded in understanding, respecting my decision without pressing further. Instead, she sat down beside me, her shoulder barely touching mine. The warmth of her presence felt like a comforting glow, enveloping me in a cocoon of familiarity. We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the soft scratch of my chalk on paper. The quiet between us was comfortable like we didn’t need to fill it with words.

“You know,” Ellie said after a while, “you’re different when you draw.”

I glanced at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She smiled, but it was a small, almost shy smile. “I don’t know. You just... seem more focused. Like you’re not worrying about everything else. It’s nice.”

Her words hung in the air, creating a fragile bridge between our unspoken thoughts. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just nodded and kept drawing. Ellie had a talent for discerning nuances and uncovering hidden aspects of individuals that escaped their awareness. It was one of the reasons she was so quiet, I figured—she was always thinking, always observing.

For a moment, we remained in that manner, with me sketching and Ellie simply observing, finding comfort in our shared silence. But then I shifted my position slightly, turning to reach for another piece of chalk, and that’s when it happened. Without meaning to, I leaned too far toward her, and before I knew it, my lips brushed against her cheek. It was a light, accidental kiss, but the effect it had on both of us was immediate.

I jerked back, my face turning hot with embarrassment. “Ellie—I—sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

Ellie’s face had gone completely red, her eyes wide with surprise. She remained silent, her gaze dropping to the floor, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. For a second, I thought she might get up and leave, but instead, she just stood there, frozen. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to apologize for something that wasn’t even intentional but still felt so... personal.

“I... I didn’t mean—” I started, but Ellie finally moved, shaking her head quickly as if to clear away her surprise.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Her cheeks glowed with an innocent warmth, reminiscent of the first blush of dawn. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine.”

I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and I wasn’t sure why. It was just an accident, a misunderstanding, but the air between us suddenly felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and a palpable tension that lingered like an invisible barrier.

After a long pause, Ellie finally spoke again, her voice soft and still a little shaky. “I, um... I came here to find you. The others are downstairs, and they wanted to discuss the festival.”

I blink, trying to process her words. “Right. The festival,” I mumbled, still feeling awkward. The word hung between us like a fragile thread, pulling me back to the reality of our surroundings. I quickly gathered my papers and chalk, pushing the whole incident out of my mind. “Let’s go, then.”

As we made our way downstairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us, though I wasn’t sure what. Ellie didn’t say much as we walked, but I noticed that she stayed close to me, her shoulder occasionally brushing against mine, sending tiny jolts of warmth through me. I tried to push away the confusion swirling in my mind, focusing instead on the chatter of my friends waiting for us.

When we entered the common room, Claire glanced up, her eyes narrowing at the sight of us. I could feel her gaze dissecting the atmosphere, and I suddenly felt self-conscious, like a spotlight was shining directly on me.

“Where have you two been?” she asked, her voice teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it.

“Just discussing the festival,” I replied, sounding casual.

Jenna and Sarah exchanged a knowing look, and I could see Ellie trying to hide a shy smile.

“Ellie has some great ideas for what we could draw for the stalls,” Jenna chimed in, nudging Ellie playfully.

“Yeah, we could sell them! I mean, if you want to,” Ellie said quickly, her cheeks still flushed.

I nodded, realizing this might be the perfect opportunity to get involved in the festival preparations and perhaps even share my drawings with everyone.

“Okay,” I said, looking around at my friends. “Let’s plan it out.”

But as the chatter began to pick up around me, my mind drifted back to Ellie’s surprised expression, and the warmth of her cheek against my lips lingered in my memory, a vivid reminder of how tangled our feelings were becoming.

Somewhere within the laughter and excitement about the upcoming festival, I felt a stirring—a sense that everything was about to change, not just for me but for all of us.