The hopeful stripe of sunlight on Elara's wall faded as she finally dragged herself out of bed. The thought of college, especially her Marketing class, felt like a heavy chain. Her parents had insisted on this major. "It's practical, Elara," her mother had said, her voice firm. "Art is a hobby, not a career." So, here Elara was, drowning in textbooks about supply chains and consumer behavior, when all she wanted to do was sketch designs or practice poses in front of her mirror.
She got ready slowly, choosing clothes that would let her blend in – a simple oversized hoodie and jeans. She didn't want to draw any attention to herself, especially not her height. Every step felt heavy, leading her closer to the bland lecture halls and the fake smiles of her classmates.
The campus was already buzzing. Groups of friends laughed loudly, heading to their first classes. Elara kept her head down, dodging through the crowd like a small fish in a big ocean. She saw a few faces she knew from her classes. They smiled, but it felt empty. These weren't the friends who would sit with her when she was down, or listen when she talked about her dreams. They were just people she shared a classroom with, and sometimes, a forced coffee break.
Her Marketing lecture started with a dull drone. Elara tried to focus. Today was the presentation. Her stomach twisted into knots. She hated speaking in front of people, her shyness making her voice small, her hands shake. This presentation felt like a giant spotlight on all her weaknesses.
"Alright, everyone," Professor Davies boomed, his voice echoing in the too-quiet room. "Let's get those presentations started. First up, Elara Singh."
Elara's heart jumped. She wasn't ready! She usually tried to be last, hoping to hide in the back, but today, she was first. Her hands felt clammy. She slowly got up, clutching her notes so tightly the paper crinkled. Every eye in the room felt like a laser beam on her. She walked to the front of the room, her short steps feeling even smaller under their gaze.
She looked at her laptop screen, ready to pull up her slides. But then, her eyes caught something strange. A small, green leaf, the kind you might find on a fresh spring plant, lay perfectly flat on her laptop's trackpad. It was a single, vibrant green, out of place in the sterile lecture hall. Where had it come from? She hadn't seen it a second ago.
She gently brushed it away, her mind still fuzzy from surprise. Her fingers trembled as she clicked. The screen lit up. Her first slide appeared.
And then, something shifted. It wasn't a sudden burst of confidence, but a quiet calm. A tiny, unseen thread seemed to tug at her. Her voice, usually a whisper, came out clearer than before. She started talking about market trends, about consumer needs. Words she'd practiced a hundred times in her head, but never dared to say so loudly, flowed out.
She didn't know how, but the words connected. She could see a few classmates nodding. Even Professor Davies looked interested. She explained her research on niche markets, where unique qualities could be advantages. As she talked about targeting diverse body types in fashion, her voice grew stronger, a hidden passion creeping in. She realized she was talking about herself, about her dream of modeling, even though she was talking about numbers and data.
When she finished, there was a moment of silence. Then, a few claps, scattered at first, then growing louder. Even some of her "friends" in the back looked surprised, giving her hesitant smiles.
"Excellent, Elara!" Professor Davies said, a rare genuine smile on his face. "A very thoughtful and well-researched presentation. Particularly your insights on market diversification. Well done."
Elara walked back to her seat, feeling light. The weight on her shoulders was still there, but it was a little less heavy. She glanced down at her laptop. The tiny green leaf was gone. Had she imagined it? No, she was sure it had been there. A little "luck," Kael had said. Just keep your eyes open for it.
Maybe, just maybe, those invisible threads were real.