Chapter 2 SCRIBBLES AND STRINGS

The music room smelled like old wood and ambition. Guitars lined the walls, some missing strings, others shining like they had just been polished for performance. Zara stood by the doorway, clutching her notebook to her chest like a shield.

Ethan was already inside, casually strumming a guitar with one leg up on a chair. His head bobbed slightly as he played, eyes closed, completely lost in whatever melody he was inventing.

She almost didn't want to interrupt. Almost.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

Zara rolled her eyes and stepped inside. "You didn't even tell me what time to come."

He looked up then, flashing that annoying half-smile. "Fair point."

She sat on the far end of the room, placing her notebook on the table like it was made of glass. Ethan leaned over, trying to peek.

"Are those the poems?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "Rough drafts."

"Can I see?"

Zara hesitated. Her poems were her private world, filled with thoughts she wasn't ready to let anyone else read-especially not him.

"I'll read it to you," she offered.

Ethan leaned back, a little surprised, but nodded. "Go ahead."

Zara flipped to a page and cleared her throat. "They say stars burn bright until they break. / But what if breaking is how they shine?"

She glanced up. Ethan was quiet, his fingers still resting on the guitar strings.

"That's... really good," he said.

Zara shrugged. "It's okay."

"No, really. That line-it hits."

He picked up his guitar and started strumming again, soft and slow this time.

"Say the line again?"

She did.

He nodded to the rhythm, trying to match her words with a melody. They worked in silence for a few minutes, something rare and magical blooming between them.

Zara didn't know what it was. But for the first time, she didn't mind being seen.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be a disaster after all.