Balcony view

The evening air was thick with the scent of home-cooked dinner as Felicia welcomed her daughter with a warm, motherly smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

"Hey darling, how was your outing?" she asked, her voice filled with gentle curiosity.

Kamsi practically bounced through the door, her eyes alight with excitement. "It was the best day ever, Mom! Thanks to Zendaya, we went to so many amazing places."

Felicia's smile deepened, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm glad you had fun," she replied, her tone tinged with the warmth of a mother who loved seeing her child happy. "Dinner's ready, though..."

Kamsi waved off the offer with a playful flourish. "Uh, I'll pass. I'm stuffed! We ate at this incredible restaurant downtown. Their food was amazing."

Felicia raised an eyebrow, her playful teasing evident. "Really? Better than your mom's cooking?"

Kamsi's eyes sparkled with affection as she answered, "No one beats your cooking, Mom." Her words, sincere and full of love, brought a soft laugh to Felicia's lips.

"Well then, I'll just keep it in the refrigerator for later," Felicia said, watching her daughter retreat to her room with a shake of her head and a knowing smile.

Once in the sanctuary of her room, Kamsi let out a contented sigh, the day's events playing like a movie in her mind. She changed into her cozy nightwear, her body relaxing as the soft fabric brushed against her skin. With a dramatic flair, she spread out her arms and fell onto her bed, sinking into the comfort of the sheets.

Her phone was in her hand almost immediately, fingers deftly scrolling through her Instagram feed. The glow of the screen illuminated her face as she settled into her nightly ritual, a small smile tugging at her lips as she scrolled through the familiar faces and posts.

A sudden thought flickered in her mind, and she couldn't resist the urge to explore. She navigated to the Washington International School's page and then to Gilbert Bruce's profile. Her eyes widened as she took in the carefully curated posts. "Wow, he's really intelligent," she murmured, her voice tinged with admiration.

But curiosity led her elsewhere, to Damon Edio's page. Her mood shifted as she scrolled through his photos, her expression hardening at the sight of him with various girls, all seemingly vying for his attention. "Such a flirt," she muttered, a note of irritation creeping into her voice as she scrolled past the images and posts that felt so superficial, so ungodly.

Next, she found herself on Alexander Marshall's page. The images of lavish parties and extravagant outings filled the screen. Kamsi's eyebrows knitted together in thought as she took in the opulence. "He hasn't posted in months..." she noticed, the absence intriguing her.

She continued to scroll, her eyes catching on a series of intricate sketches and drawings. "Did he draw this?" she wondered aloud, her voice filled with curiosity. "If he did, then he's a great artist. But if he didn't, it must have cost him a fortune to buy these!" Kamsi mused, a sense of wonder coloring her thoughts.

Under one of the posts, a hashtag caught her eye: #bemymuse. Her heart skipped a beat. "Who wants to be my muse?" she thought, her mind swirling with the possibilities. "He did draw it," she finally decided, amazed by the talent on display. She skimmed the comments, her expression shifting between amusement and disbelief as she read the fawning replies from other girls, all clamoring to be his muse.

Her journey through social media led her to Xavier Alastair's page. Unlike the others, his profile was unimpressive at first glance, just another arrogant brat flaunting his life online. But then she saw a photo of him. Her breath caught in her throat. He looked calm, almost serene, yet his eyes held a depth that was both frightening and magnetic. He wasn't the kind of handsome she usually liked, but something about him made her blush, a warmth spreading across her cheeks.

Kamsi's eyes widened in realization, her heart racing. "No, no, not this guy. He's just a rude and annoying fellow," she chastised herself, slapping her palm against her forehead in frustration. But when she checked her phone, there it was—his photo saved to her gallery. Her fingers trembled slightly as she moved out to the balcony, seeking the cool night air to clear her mind.

As she gazed out into the night, the events of the day replayed in her mind, mingling with memories that made her heart ache. "Why?" she whispered to herself, confusion knitting her brows together. She shook her head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. "Get it together, Kamsi. He's probably forgotten about it, and he's not even going to be there," she mused, her resolve wavering as she stared out into the night, the balcony offering little comfort.

"But what if he is there? The thought slithered into Kamsi's mind, unwelcome yet persistent. Her heart fluttered in anticipation, a mix of curiosity and apprehension tightening her chest. I'll just take a peep,she decided, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes. If he isn't there then I'll go outside.

A slow, satisfying grin spread across her pretty face, her lips curling at the edges with a quiet thrill. She moved with the stealth of a cat, her steps light and careful as she crept out to the balcony. The night air was cool against her skin, heightening her senses as she peeked around the corner, her breath held in anticipation. Her eyes darted to the other side—and found it empty.

A wave of relief washed over her, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Thank goodness,Kamsi thought, her heart lightening as a broad smile spread across her face. All the tension, the fears that had been gnawing at her, evaporated in an instant at the sight of the vacant balcony. He must be out enjoying himself,she mused, her thoughts bubbling with delight.

"Ah, that's a relief!" she whispered, almost to herself, savoring the words as if they were the sweetest of secrets. "I'm free to enjoy the view all alone, with no one to intimidate me or stir up any unwanted nerves." The sense of freedom was intoxicating, and she celebrated with a joyful twirl, her hair catching the moonlight as she spun in place.

But just as the night seemed to be hers alone, a voice—deep, familiar, and laced with a hint of amusement—cut through the stillness. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Kamsi froze mid-twirl, her heart leaping into her throat. She knew that voice, and the thrill of freedom quickly twisted into a knot of surprise and something else, something she wasn't ready to name