Blessings in disguise

A journey to Paris had always seemed like a distant dream, but here I stood, ready to embark on a new chapter of my life. It wasn't just a trip—it was more than a year-long adventure, studying to become an independent artist with the backing of generous sponsor..and a step closer to my goals.

My pulse quickened with anticipation as I gazed at the apartment building that would be my home.

Luna and Xavier had seen me off at the airport, their warm wishes lingering in my heart. Though I secretly wished Mr. Dean could have been there too, it remained a wish, unspoken and unfulfilled. With a deep breath, I rang the doorbell of my new abode, the handle of my suitcase clutched tightly in my hand.

The door swung open suddenly, revealing a vision of Parisian allure standing before me. He was tall and slim, his effortless grace captivating me from the start. His hair, a soft shade of pink, seemed to catch the light in a mesmerizing dance, styled into an artful bun atop his head. Loose tendrils framed his jawline, softening his angular features.

But it was his eyes that held me captive, a striking blue that seemed to hold the secrets of the city itself. They sparkled with mischief and depth, drawing me in with an irresistible pull.

As he moved, the fabric of his stylish attire clung to his lithe form, accentuating his slender build. The sleeves of his jacket were rolled up, revealing an intricate tattoo on his right arm—a masterpiece of art that seemed to tell a story with every line and curve.

Confidence radiated from him, mingling with an approachable charm that left me breathless. A crooked smile played on his lips, hinting at hidden depths and untold adventures.

He spoke in a foreign tongue, his fingers gesturing in fluid motions. "You don't understand French?" he inquired, and I shook my head slowly, my gaze still locked with his.

"Okay, I'll help you with your bag," he said with a warm smile, taking my suitcase from me as he led the way into the apartment. I followed him like one entranced, unable to tear my eyes away.

"It's a bit messy, I apologize," he explained as we entered. "I haven't been here long, and the school hostel was too crowded, so they moved us here."

"I'm Tom, your housemate for the time being," he introduced himself, and I struggled to find my voice, lost in the allure of his presence.

Finally, he waved a hand toward the room on the left. "That's your room, and this is mine," he said, and I couldn't help but notice the spaciousness of the apartment.

"You can make yourself at home while I do the same," he offered, and I nodded mutely, feeling like I had stumbled into a dream.

Entering my room, I was greeted with a scene straight out of a luxury magazine—a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility that beckoned me in.

The centerpiece was a large queen-size bed, adorned with plush pillows and soft, inviting linens. Its presence commanded attention, and assured promising nights of restful slumber beneath the gentle glow of bedside lamps.

Space surrounded the bed, offering freedom of movement and a sense of openness. Natural light filtered through sheer curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow throughout the room.

A sleek air-conditioning unit hummed quietly in the corner, maintaining the perfect temperature for comfort. Candles dotted the room, their flickering flames casting a warm, inviting light. Each candle emitted a delicate fragrance—lavender, vanilla, and sandalwood—that enveloped me in a symphony of scents, soothing my senses and calming my mind.

A spacious bathroom waited behind the closed door stand at the side,a luxurious retreat with gleaming fixtures and elegant porcelain sinks. A large mirror reflected the room's soft lighting, creating an illusion of endless space.

But the true marvel lay beyond the bathroom—a walk-in wardrobe fit for a fashion connoisseur. Every accessory had its place, creating an organized oasis where getting ready became a pleasure.

Every detail had been carefully considered, creating a space where comfort met elegance, where serenity reigned supreme. It was a room that whispered of indulgence and luxury, a haven of calm and contentment unlike anything I had ever experienced.

As I stood there, taking in the beauty of my new surroundings, I couldn't help but wonder if this was truly meant for students. It felt like a slice of paradise in the heart of Paris, a perfect beginning to my new adventure.

With a contented sigh, I carefully unpacked my bags, sliding into something comfortably casual before venturing out of my dorm room, my trusty tablet by my side. As much as I longed to dial Luna's number and spill the details of my arrival, I hesitated, mindful of the time difference not wanting to cause her any discomfort.

Making my way down the hall, I found myself standing in front of Tom's room. The sight of the neatly arranged boxes spurred me to offer a helping hand, bu his voice push me to stop in my tracks. "Be careful, those boxes are filled with my tools," Tom's voice interrupted my thoughts as he deftly took the burden from me, disappearing into his room before returning to meet me in the corridor.

"I'm in the sculpture department, and that is who I have an abundance of tools," he explained with a friendly smile, setting the box down. "By the way, what's your name?" I responded by tapping out "Carmela" on my tablet, watching as he read it with interest.

"Ah, Carmela, a lovely name indeed. Feeling hungry? There's not much in the way of food at the moment, just some cereal. Will that suffice?" Tom inquired, to which I nodded gratefully. His smile widened, seemingly pleased with my response, and just like that, my art school adventure officially began.

There was something about Tom that hinted at an unconventional friendship, a sense of camaraderie that felt both exciting and unfamiliar. As we settled into conversation, he regaled me with different tales of the university—the rumored elite cliques to steer clear of, and even the professors who could discern a student's essence through their artwork.

His narration was captivating and so I listened intently, already anticipating the colorful experiences and creative challenges that awaited me in this vibrant artistic community. With Tom as my guide, it seemed my journey through art school would be nothing short of extraordinary.

I guess.

…

"Carmela!" The call echoed through the courtyard, bouncing off the walls of the school building. I furrowed my brow, scanning the area for the source of the voice.

"Carmela!" The urgency in the voice was unmistakable this time, and I looked up to see Tom waving enthusiastically from the rooftop of the school building.

"What?" I shouted back, wondering what mischief he had gotten himself into now.

"Run!" He yelled, his arm outstretched and pointing urgently to the other side of the school. My heart quickened as I followed his gaze, spotting a group of tough-looking boys making their way toward me. With a resigned sigh, I took off in a sprint, my heart pounding in my chest.

Navigating through the maze of school blocks, I could feel my breath growing shallow. Knowing my tendency to run out of steam quickly, I slowed my pace, allowing the group to close in on me.

"You..." The leader of the pack panted, his voice dripping with malice as he caught up to me. I instinctively took a step back, finding myself surrounded by the menacing figures.

"You're that rascal's sister, aren't you?" He demanded, and I averted my gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm talking to you, girl!" He bellowed, his voice echoing in the confined space. In response, I raised my left hand, signaling for a moment as I pulled out my tablet from my bag, pretending to jot down notes while stealing glances at their movements.

Seizing the moment,I swiftly launched my tablet at one of the boys, catching him off guard. As he stumbled backward, I deftly pulled out a paintbrush I had tucked into my hair, using it to fashion my unruly hair into a messy bun.

With a burst of agility, I leaped over one of the encroaching boys, using the paintbrush to jab at the leader's throat. I watched as he grappled for breath, his cronies circling him in confusion and concern.

"You'd better get him to a hospital before he suffocates," I retorted coolly, retrieving my tablet from the ground as I turned away.

Tom suddenly appeared beside me, panting from the exertion of the chase.

"You took care of them already?" He gasped, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. I shot him a withering look, my eyes narrowing.

"They broke my tablet, so you'd better be ready to fix it," I stated firmly, before striding away, leaving him to scramble after me.

"You don't even need the tablet to communicate anymore, so why bother fixing..." Tom's protests trailed off as I halted abruptly, fixing him with a steely gaze.

"Fine, I'll fix it. Why do you have to be so terrifying?" His muttered words followed me as I continued on my way.

It had been seven eventful months since I began studying in Paris and took up residence with Tommy.

But in this short span of time I had undergone a transformation..or should I say give my real self a glimpse of the light?

Though not for the worse, but certainly for the better. Constantly mistaken for Tommy's younger sister, I had become a target for pranks and mischief around the university.

And in response, I had taken up martial arts, learning to defend myself both physically and mentally. Slowly, I found myself shedding my inhibitions, interacting with others more freely. Sometimes, amidst the chaos and the challenges, I couldn't help but feel that Tommy was a blessing in disguise.

As we walked together, Tom's arm draped casually over my shoulder,and I couldn't resist to chuckle at the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Which girl was it this time?" I asked, knowing full well that his antics were far from over.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied, his grin widening into a mischievous wink.