The hallway outside the administrator's office felt colder than usual. I stood there, clutching the strap of my bag so hard my knuckles turned white. My ribs still ached from the encounter with Uncle Levi, a dull, throbbing reminder of the Weight of Silence I carried every day.
I knocked twice.
"Come in," a voice called.
My heart stopped. It was that voice. The low, cello-like vibration that had haunted my dreams since the rainy night on the curb.
I pushed the door open. The office was quiet, smelling of old parchment, expensive coffee, and that unmistakable scent: sandalwood and leather. He wasn't sitting behind the mahogany desk. He was leaning against the edge of it, one hand tucked into the pocket of his charcoal suit. He looked younger than I expected, but his eyes—dark and sharp as a surgeon's blade—held a weight that made me feel like he could see right through my gray cardigan and into my very soul.
"Sarah," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I... I was told the new program director wanted to see me about my biology scores," I stammered, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor.
"I did." He stepped closer. I can't move, but every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire. "You have the highest entrance marks this academy has seen in a decade. But that's not why you're here."
I finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "Then why?"
Asher—I knew his name from the plaque on the desk, though he hadn't introduced himself—tilted his head. A smirk played on his lips. "I wanted to see the girl who stands up to bullies in the hallway and walks through storms without an umbrella."
My breath hitched. "It was you. The car..."
"It's better if you stop wearing that gray cardigan, Sarah," he said, ignoring my realization. He reached out, his long fingers barely brushing the air near my wrist, right where the pink ribbon was hidden.
"The gray doesn't suit you," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "You were meant to live in color. You were meant to burn bright, not fade away in these shadows."
"I... I don't know how," I whispered back. The office felt smaller, the air thick with an intensity I had never felt before.
Asher leaned down, his face inches from mine. "Then let me show you. But be careful... once you start blooming, there's no going back to being a ghost. Are you ready to stop hiding, Sarah?"
I looked at the silver watch on his wrist—the same one that had glinted in the rain. I wasn't just Sarah the charity case anymore. In this room, under his gaze, I felt like a masterpiece.
"I'm ready," I said, my voice finally finding its strength.
He straightened up, his smirk widening. "Good. Then let the lessons begin."