After one class ended, something happened during the break. The artistic girl among them pulled a thick, beautifully bound sketchbook from her bag.
"I brought some of my recent pieces," she said shyly, flipping open the cover. "I thought you might want to see them."
I leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat. Her artwork was genuinely magnificent, every stroke carried a raw, emotional depth that was breathtaking. As she began explaining the concepts behind her drawings, something wonderful happened: her face seemed to light up, and her eyes sparkled with a fierce, beautiful passion.
Seeing her talk about what she loved filled my chest with a deep, quiet warmth. I've always had a soft spot for artists. Back before my world turned upside down, before my social anxiety and crushing shyness forced me to retreat into a shell, I used to sing and participated in school festivals or program. I had music in my soul, but fear, anxiety, and the shifting chaos of my life had forced me to quiet my voice and walk away from it all. Because I understood what it meant to bury a passion, seeing someone else fiercely protect and love their art made me admire them all the more. I loved watching people when they spoke about their craft.
As we traded ideas and talked about our favorite things, the conversation naturally drifted toward our pasts.
"What is your hobby,Iris?" one of them gently asked to me. "Don't be shy, tell us about it."
I offered a small, honest smile, keeping my answer carefully guarded. I didn't want to bring down the mood by talking about my mother's passing, my father's sudden marriage, or the heavy family wreckage I was carrying. Instead, I kept it to what they could understand.
"I used to struggle a lot with shyness and social anxiety," I admitted softly, looking down at my hands before meeting their understanding eyes. "It made it really hard for me to talk to people or fit in. But... I'm trying to change that now."
Instead of judging or prying for deeper details, they just smiled warmly, making me feel completely safe and accepted.
Out of the five classes scheduled for that day, one had been unexpectedly canceled because the professor failed to show up. Because of that, the lecture hall buzzed with a relaxed energy.
Right after the second period ended, the classroom door opened again, and another girl slipped inside. Evidently caught in the same festival gridlock like everyone, she scanned the packed room for an open spot. Finding every other bench occupied, she headed toward the end of our row to take a solitary seat.
Luca, who happened to notice her, gave a friendly wave and motioned for her to come over.
"Come join us," he called out softly.
Once she came here, Luca glanced around and then told her, "you can sit at my place". We were shocked by his sudden behavior. Whether it was because he noticed a group of his close male friends sitting nearby and wanted to catch up with them, or perhaps because he figured five girls deep in conversation would appreciate the space without a guy lingering around, or maybe for some other reason, as I half-guessed to myself, he quietly stood up.
"I'm going to go sit with the guys over there, they are calling me." Luca said with a casual smile, heading off to join his male friends across the room.
With Luca stepping away, our little corner naturally transformed into a circle of five girls.
The newcomer looked a bit hesitant at first, her posture stiff as she surveyed the group. Sensing her shyness, which looked an awful lot like the anxiety I had been fighting myself, I gave her an encouraging smile to help her settle in. Then we started to introduce ourselves.
"Hi, I'm Laura," she said softly, introducing herself after a moment. When someone asked about her hobbies, she offered a self-deprecating little shrug. "Honestly, I don't really have any special hobbies. I just like to study, keep to myself, and do the usual routine."
Despite her quiet demeanor, Laura turned out to be surprisingly warm once she warmed up. She shared where she lived and a few simple things she enjoyed, and it didn't take long for all of us to fold her into our circle, chatting effortlessly.
The local festival was still in full swing outside, its vibrant energy bleeding into the campus atmosphere. When the final classes of the day finally wrapped up, "Hey, since we have extra time and the festival is right outside, why don't we all go check it out?" one of the girls suggested, with an excitement.
The rest of the group, including Luca and his friends who had drifted back over, instantly chimed in with agreement. "We should go! Let's take a break and enjoy ourselves."
For a split second, hesitation pulled at my chest. A flicker of guilt whispered in the back of my mind, What about home? What about your stepmother and father? Should you really be out having fun when everything at home is such a mess?
I weighed the heavy thoughts for a moment, but then remembered the vow I had made to myself. I couldn't keep caging myself up in fear and anxiety. Stepping out, clearing my head, and letting myself breathe for an afternoon might actually help me focus better on my studies.
"Yeah," I said with a genuine smile "Let's go."
Actually I observed something about them in those two days that they were quite different than the rest of the class. They didn't like to study much, they had different hobbies, passions. But it was not that they were bad students. It was more like they knew how to enjoy their life. Maybe they were some odd girls... but at that time I needed someone like them...