The office, a sanctuary of order and control, now felt oppressive. The leather of his chair squeaked as he shifted, unable to find comfort. His eyes wandered to the window, where the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting patterns on the floor. The world outside seemed so simple, so straightforward compared to the turmoil inside his head.

  Benjamin stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the bustling city below. People were moving about their day, oblivious to his internal conflict. He envied them, their apparent simplicity of purpose. He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly, watching the smoke curl and dissipate into the air.

  His thoughts drifted back to Isabella. He 

  Was he really holding himself back? Was his cynicism a shield against potential pain? Benjamin didn’t have the answers, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.

  With a final sigh, he stubbed out his cigarette and returned to his desk. The piles of paperwork offered a welcome distraction. As he buried himself in work, the questions remained, lurking at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for another quiet moment to resurface.

  Benjamin tried to lose himself in the routine tasks, but Isabella’s image kept creeping back into his mind. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, he couldn’t deny the stirrings of something deeper within him. And that scared him more than anything else.

  Meanwhile…

  Isabella lay in her bed, feeling utterly exhausted. The demands of her period had drained her energy, leaving her body weak and her mind foggy. She longed to stay under the covers, succumbing to the soft cocoon of her bed, but the insistent light streaming through the window forced her eyes open. The room was awash in morning light, the golden rays highlighting the dust motes that danced lazily in the air.

  Her body felt heavy, and she groaned as she glanced at the clock. 8:30. Panic surged through her veins. College started at 9, and she was still in bed. Adrenaline coursed through her, replacing the lethargy with sharp urgency. She sat up quickly, berating herself, "Ah, Isabella, you're on your period, but that's no excuse for laziness."

  Determined to salvage the morning, she snatched her clothes and towel and hurried to the bathroom. The tiles were cold against her feet, and the hot shower was a brief comfort, barely touching her skin before she was out, toweling off and tying her damp hair into a hasty ponytail. A few rebellious strands escaped, framing her pale, tired face.

  Back in her room, she moved frantically, stuffing her books into her bag. The room was a blur of disheveled sheets and scattered belongings. She locked the door behind her and dashed out. Today, she wore her freshly stitched Delight uniform, a necessity because laundry had been neglected. Despite the dull ache in her abdomen, she couldn’t afford to be late.

  She ran through the streets, her heart pounding, lungs gasping for air. The morning sun had fully risen, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The trees lining the streets swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers of encouragement. She thanked the universe when she reached the college gates just as the clock struck 9. Usually punctual, today's race against time had left her breathless and stressed.

  Isabella entered her classroom only to find it eerily empty. Panic flared anew—had she missed something important? She stepped into the corridor, peeking into each classroom as she passed. The building's familiar hallways felt strangely intimidating, shadows lingering in the corners. Faint voices reached her ears, elusive as whispers on the wind. Then, her eyes fell on the notice board.

  "Time for Entertainment... Like last time, this year we will be conducting a play, a Mega dance, and a drama show... Everyone should assemble in our grand hall before 9."

  Her heart sank. She had missed the announcement. Sprinting upstairs, her pulse racing, she finally stood before the designated room. She pushed open the door and took in the scene—the dance students on one side, following the choreographer’s instructions. To the left, the play’s stage awaited its performers, while on the right, students huddled in animated discussions about their art projects.

  The room seemed vast, its energy palpable. Rows of seats faced the central stage, each one capable of rotating to accommodate the audience's gaze. A seamless transition from dance to drama awaited the spectators. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation, the hum of creative energy filling the space.

  As Isabella stepped inside, all eyes swiveled toward her. She felt exposed, her abdomen still throbbing from the morning rush. Quickly, she bowed, murmuring an apology. Uncertain where to position herself, she scanned the room, looking for a familiar face or a place to blend in. The sea of students seemed to shift and swell around her, their conversations a distant murmur.

  Then, a voice cut through her thoughts. "Hey, you... in which performance are you participating?" Helen Gregory's sarcastic smile greeted her. Helen, with her perfectly styled hair and confident stance, was everything Isabella felt she wasn’t at that moment. Isabella's nerves tightened, her stomach churning. She felt small and out of place under Helen's scrutinizing gaze.

  "I, uh, I'm not sure yet," Isabella stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. She hadn’t anticipated this encounter, but now she stood at the crossroads of entertainment, her fate uncertain.

  Helen’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Not sure yet, huh? Well, you better figure it out quickly. We don't have time for slackers." Her words stung, but Isabella stood her ground, refusing to let Helen see how much she had affected her. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, the air heavy with unspoken judgments.

  The room seemed vast, its energy palpable. Rows of seats faced the central stage, each one capable of rotating to accommodate the audience's gaze. A seamless transition from dance to drama awaited the spectators.