H_Vasuja

Main Character: Vale Carter

A girl with honey-toned skin, plump lips, and hazel waves that fall like poetry. She’s elegant and silver-clad on the outside, but beneath that shine lies a world no one knows—except her best friend, Lila. Vale is an unspoken genius with hidden talents in car racing, computer hacking, and self-defense. She's lovable, honest, and open-hearted… but everyone she’s ever loved has walked away.

Until Kian Bennett shows up.

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Male Lead: Kian Bennett

The transfer student from a rival family—the Bennetts, whose name alone stirs drama in Vale’s household. Kian is charming, intelligent, and as misunderstood as Vale. He carries the weight of legacy but seeks something real. Something like her.

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Plot Overview:

When Kian transfers to Cresthill High, Vale’s world tilts. Their families share wealth, power—and buried tension from an old rivalry. Vale tries to keep her distance, but Kian’s curiosity and calm persistence begin to break through her defenses.

As the chapters unfold, Kian slowly uncovers parts of Vale that no one’s seen:

Her sharp mind in computer science class
Her fight skills during gym
Her secret life behind the wheel of a midnight-black racing car

While rumors swirl at school and family pressures build, the connection between Vale and Kian grows deeper. But love—real love—means exposing your scars. And Vale’s afraid she’s too much to stay with… or too unforgettable to leave.

"Loved, But Never Left"

The wheels still echoed in her head.

That night's race hadn't ended the way she thought. No winner, no finish line—just dust, engine smoke, and a message that wasn't spoken but felt: someone knows too much.

Instead, she found herself in the attic studio above the garage. It was the one place no one looked for her—the one place she could disappear without question. The air was laced with the scent of acrylic and charcoal, the dim yellow lamp casting shadows on half-finished canvases.

Here, she wasn't the Carter girl or the secret racer.

Here, she was just… Vale. The girl who painted storms she couldn't explain and faces she'd never dare look at in daylight.

She slipped on her old hoodie, speckled with paint, and opened her sketchbook. Her hand moved on instinct—fluid, fast, almost violent. She didn't know what she was drawing until it was done.

Eyes thoughtful. Expression unreadable. Hair falling over his brow, and shadows under his eyes like he carried more than he ever said.

She stared at the page for a long time, her chest tightening. She hadn't even meant to draw him. And yet… he'd appeared, right out of her thoughts and onto the paper.

You're getting too close, she told herself.

The next morning, Kian was already at her locker before she got there, leaning with that easy confidence like he belonged in her world. He looked at her with that same quiet intensity—unshaken and kind.

"You good?" he asked, handing her a vanilla coffee from her favorite place.

"You mentioned it once. I remembered."

She took it, warmth seeping into her hands. "Thanks."

They stood in silence for a beat, students weaving around them like ghosts.

"I heard about last night," he said carefully. "Someone said you were seen racing outside of town."

"Random whispers. You know how this place is."

She looked up at him. "And what do you think?"

"I think," he said slowly, "there's a lot about you I don't know. But I'm not scared to find out."

Most people pulled away when they sensed the storm inside her. Kian didn't just stand still—he stepped closer.

Vale hesitated, then made a decision she hadn't made in years.

"Meet me after school," she said. "Don't ask where. Just trust me."

The sun dipped behind the trees as she led him through the back gate behind her house. She climbed the old stairs to the attic above the garage, unlocking the paint-splattered door and stepping aside to let him in.

Kian looked around slowly, taking it all in—the canvases stacked against the wall, sketches of unknown faces, cityscapes, broken glass, streetlights.

"This is yours?" he asked, eyes wide.

Vale nodded. "No one knows about this. Not even my parents. Just Lila."

He turned slowly, meeting her gaze. "Why show me?"

She swallowed. "Because you haven't run yet. And I think… I think you deserve to see who I really am."

He walked to a canvas near the window—one of her older pieces. A figure standing in the rain with their back turned, fading into the fog.

Just turned to her and said, "It's beautiful. You're… something else, Vale."

She almost laughed. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"

And then he stepped closer, the air shifting between them. "For what it's worth," he added, voice softer, "I'd rather walk into your storm than watch it from a distance."

Her heart thudded once—loud and sharp.

Maybe, just maybe… he wouldn't leave.

Chapter 11: The Art of Disappearing