Chapter 10: When you're not hiding

After my first confidence training, I felt different. Lighter, stronger.

Like my shoulders had learned a new position and my voice had learned a new tone.

I headed toward the school gate, smiling ear to ear. Maybe today wasn’t a bad day.

Maya had no idea I was staying after school with Klaus. No idea about the training. No idea about the time I spent in that theatre trying to rebuild myself.

She trusted me, and I was keeping secrets from her — something I’d never done before.

I reached the bus stop and, like a literal flash, the bus drove right past me.

“Are you kidding me…” I groaned loudly, running a hand over my face.

Of course.

The one day I actually felt motivated — I missed the bus.

I stood there for a few seconds, debating whether to call my mom.

Before I could even unlock my phone—

“I guess we both missed it.”

I turned around instantly and saw Ethan standing a few steps behind me, hands in his pockets, looking equally annoyed at the departing bus.

“You too?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Great timing.”

We stared at each other for three seconds — then burst into surprisingly natural laughter.

And the crazy part? I didn’t even know why we were laughing.

“So… what do we do now?” I asked.

“Walk.”

I blinked. “Walk? It’s far.”

“Exactly,” he said calmly. “Which means we have time.”

Time?

“For what?”

“For talking.”

That caught me off guard. We started walking side by side away from the school gate.

The air between us wasn’t awkward.

It was… different.

Ethan glanced at me.

“You seem like a fun person.”

I blinked. “I am?”

“Well… yeah. When you’re not hiding.”

I paused. Hiding.

“No offence,” he added quickly.

“None taken,” I said, surprising myself. “You’re actually right. I’m used to hiding.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Why?”

The question should’ve been simple.

It wasn’t.

“Well because I…” My voice trailed off. I searched for an answer that didn’t make me sound pathetic. “I don’t know.”

That was the safest truth I had.

The silence stretched — not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.

I cleared my throat and looked at the bus schedule posted on the pole.

“I’m going to wait for the next bus over there,” I said, pointing to the bench a few feet away. “I checked. It’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

He nodded slowly.

“Thirty minutes is a long time to hide.”

“What?” I asked, but he had already turned to leave. His Spider-Man backpack came into view. He waved and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

Why was I hiding?

The next day during rehearsals, while I was trying to harmonise with one of the backups, I kept missing a certain note — and it was getting on my nerves.

Everyone else was working on their own tasks when Veronica strolled in.

All eyes turned.

Dancers stopped dancing.

Singers held their breath.

Those practising lines froze mid-sentence.

She walked past a sculpture, flipping her hair like she owned the room — like she wasn’t just suspended from the play.

Julie leaned behind her and whispered something in her ear that made them both giggle.

Everyone wanted answers.

I wanted to know why she was here.

I thought I didn’t care whether she was here or not — until she showed up.

“Gather around, everyone,” Miss Issa called.

We formed a circle around her.

“As we all know, Veronica committed a serious offence last week. Frankly, we were supposed to remove her from the play entirely. But she pleaded with us, and we decided that as long as she apologises to Tessa, she can continue.”

Murmurs spread.

Veronica stepped forward.

“I’m sorry,” she said flatly, not even looking at me.

It was the most insincere apology I had ever heard in my life.

“And as part of showing I’ve changed,” she added sweetly, “Julie will be helping as a personalised stage manager.”

Julie beamed.

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t care.

After that, everyone went back to their positions.

I tried the note again.

Missed it.

“Wait. It’s not your key that’s off… you’re second-guessing the note before you even hit it,” the backup singer said gently.

I blinked.

“Why not take a break? Remember, you’re the main lead.”

She left.

“Well, look who decided to stay,” Julie appeared from behind. “I took musical lessons as a kid, and I can tell you that your key is totally off. You’ll never be able to hit the right note.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your assessment,” I said, walking away and went backstage.

It was quiet. At least I could hear myself clearly.

I tried again.

Once.

Twice.

Still wrong.

On the third try, it finally felt right.

“That’s better,” I smiled to myself.

“Yeah, it is.”

I froze and turned slowly.

Klaus was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me.

“How long have you been there?” I asked.

“Long enough.”

My cheeks warmed.

“You sounded nice,” he said casually.

Nice?

I stared at him for a second — then decided to take it as a compliment.

“Thanks.”

He stepped closer.

“You’re overthinking the high note,” he added. “Stop pushing it like you’re fighting it.”

I nodded.

He stepped right in front of me.

I could hear his breathing.

I stopped thinking.

“You know,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping briefly to my lips before meeting my gaze again,

“we’re eventually going to have to kiss at least once or twice in this play.”

My heart slammed against my chest.

“Isn’t that worth practising too?”

My throat went dry.

He was close enough that I could feel his warmth.

Close enough that if I leaned in—

The backstage door suddenly swung open.

“Klaus—”

Both of us snapped our heads toward the entrance.

Ethan stood there.

Looking between us.

“I need to talk to you,” he said calmly.

His eyes shifted to me for half a second — observant. Careful.

Klaus didn’t move.

“Bad timing,” he muttered under his breath.

Then he stepped back.

The tension snapped.

And the moment vanished.

What the hell was that?