Chapter 9 – The Sound of Splinters

I used to think the loudest things in life were the shouts of others. The insults. The laughter. The echo of being left out.But I was wrong.

The loudest thing is silence — the one that hits you right before something breaks.

The school had changed. Not physically, but in the way people looked at me. Ever since the drawing went viral and whispers about me being a fraud spread like wildfire, my presence came with an invisible weight. I could feel it pressing on my chest with every step I took. Not just judgment... anticipation. Like they were waiting for me to break.

I almost did.

But Kaiya wouldn't let me.

One evening, as we sat on the rooftop watching the sun dip beneath the buildings, she looked at me differently — not like someone who saw my flaws, but someone who accepted them and still saw more.

"Do you think people can change completely?" I asked her, voice low.

She tilted her head. "No one changes completely. But we grow. Like broken bones healing stronger. Even if we limp, we move forward."

I didn't reply. But something shifted inside me.

The next day, something unexpected happened. A notice went up for the Annual Inter-School Art and Innovation Exhibition. Only one student could be chosen from each grade, and the theme was: "Unseen Worlds."

Unseen. That word stuck to me like glue.

For a moment, the old doubt crept in — You? Compete? You're not even in the art club. You're not supposed to be anything.

But then I remembered the rooftop.

The broken boy with a cracked heart and blurry vision had a chance. Maybe the world hadn't seen him yet, but that didn't mean he didn't exist.

I signed up.

Rumors swirled again. This time, sharper.

"Why him?""He got in because of sympathy.""He's just trying to get famous off pity."

Even one of the teachers pulled me aside and said, "You should reconsider, Kai. You've been through a lot. Maybe it's not the right time to draw attention."

But maybe attention was exactly what I needed to stop hiding.

I spent the next two weeks pouring every emotion into my piece. I didn't go for perfection. I didn't copy anyone. I simply drew what I felt. A world where colors bled into shadows. A staircase that spiraled through the void. A figure walking upward, surrounded by ghosts of doubt, reaching toward a distant star.

I called it: "Becoming."

Kaiya visited my room during one of my late-night sketches. She didn't say anything at first, just watched. Then finally, she whispered, "This… this is the real you."

For once, I didn't flinch. I believed it.

The day of the exhibition came. The gymnasium was filled with brilliance — intricate models, dazzling digital art, perfectly executed landscapes. Mine sat in the corner, rough but raw.

Then the moment came — presentation time.

My hands trembled as I stood up. The mic was too tall. My throat too dry. I almost turned back.

But then I saw her.

Kaiya.

She nodded once. Not cheering. Just believing.

And I began.

I didn't talk like an artist. I didn't try to sound smart. I just said the truth.

"I used to believe I wasn't good at anything. People told me I had no spark. That I was invisible. But I've come to realize… even invisible things have weight. Even silence has a sound. This piece isn't perfect. But it's me. And I want the world to see me — not polished, not finished, but real."

When I stepped down, the room was quiet.

And then someone clapped.

And then more.

I didn't win the exhibition.

But I won something else — a voice.

Later that day, as I passed the hallway, a student I didn't know stopped me. "Hey... I felt that. Your art. I think I'm invisible too sometimes. Thanks for making me feel seen."

That night, Kaiya and I stood by the school gate. A quiet breeze, a flicker of a streetlight.

"You're changing," she said, her voice soft. "But not into someone new. Into the version of you that was always hidden."

I smiled. "And you're helping me find him."

But before the comfort could settle too deep, I received a message — not a whisper this time.

Just a plain text, no name.

"You shouldn't have done that. You'll regret being seen."

I stared at it, my heartbeat slow but heavy.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

The sound of something else about to break.

End of Chapter 9