When you smile

Chapter 1

Dev's P.O.V.

A new beginning, that's what it is. But who's here to ensure that this fresh start marks the beginning of something good? Or is it just a bright evening before another cold night, or just a sweet nap before another nightmare?

The car glides to a stop in front of the colossal school building. I gaze out of the window, taking in the imposing structure meant to be my new sanctuary. Behind the wheel, my mom turns to face me, her warm eyes meeting mine. A gentle smile plays on her lips as she leans forward, planting a tender kiss on my forehead. "Good luck, sweetie," she whispers, her words carrying a mixture of hope and encouragement.

I try to muster a smile in return, but it's as if my facial muscles have forgotten how to cooperate. My mom, perceptive as ever, has an idea of what I'm feeling right now. She's been my anchor through nights filled with nightmares and days clouded by past shadows. Yet, despite her unwavering support, she only has an idea—a glimpse into the turmoil within my mind.

Stepping out of the car, the warmth of the morning sun embraces me, and a cool breeze dances through the air, carrying the lively chatter of students near the school gate. As I raise my eyes, the tall school gate looms above, flanked by two imposing pillars, and the name "Bright Future Academy" is carved into the entrance.

Entering through the gate, I find myself in a vast campus, in shades of green. Laughter and conversations blend in the air, creating a vibrant tapestry of student life. Different blocks sprawl across the landscape and anxious butterflies flutter in my stomach.

My fingers clutch the strap of my backpack, the material beneath them damp with nervous sweat. I weave through the bustling sea of students, their confident strides a stark contrast to my uncertain shuffle. Everyone seems to know exactly where they're headed, but for me, the labyrinth of hallways is an enigma.

My fingers clutch the strap of my backpack, the material beneath them damp with nervous sweat. I weave through the bustling sea of students, their confident strides a stark contrast to my uncertain shuffle. Everyone seems to know exactly where they're headed, but for me, the labyrinth of hallways is an enigma.

My gaze flits from one door to another—9C, 9B, 9A—the numbers a confusing blur. My pulse quickens, drowning out the hum of conversations around me. The weight of unfamiliar gazes presses on my shoulders, perhaps I'm looking like an alien exploring their planet.

With each step, the anxiety tightens its grip. The air feels thick, and my voice, trapped in my throat, refuses to escape.

Turning a corner, my eyes fixate on another row of doors, each one seemingly identical to the last. Panic sets in, my heart racing in sync with the ticking seconds. I'm a deer caught in the headlights of a thousand judgmental eyes.

And then it happens. A collision, a sudden impact that sends a shock through my body. I stumble back, my eyes widening as I hear the unmistakable sound of something hitting the floor. I quickly look at the floor to see what seems like a science project, meticulously crafted houses now shattered windmills. My heart sinks.

"Are you blind or what?" The words slice through the air, sharp and accusing. I lift my gaze to meet a pair of eyes ablaze with frustration. A clenched jaw and a pointed glare tell me I've just stumbled into someone's world, quite literally breaking a piece of it in the process.

He shoots me a glare that cuts through the air like a razor. "It took us three weeks to make this, and today's the last day," he declares, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. The passing students slow down, curiosity drawing their attention to the unfolding scene.

His friends surround the shattered remnants of their hard work, a collective sigh escaping their lips as they begin to salvage the broken pieces. I want to apologize, to explain that I didn't mean for any of this to happen, but the words lodge in my throat like a stubborn lump.