Elara practically floated back to her dorm. The scent of that elusive damp earth, which she now firmly linked to Kael and his "luck," seemed to cling to her, a subtle perfume of possibility. She reread Professor Sharma's email about the test shoots, her heart still thrumming with disbelief and excitement. It was real. A genuine chance.
She had to tell Kael everything.
Elara_Dreams: Kael, you won't believe it! The test shoots are happening! Next week! And Professor Sharma said I have a "unique presence" and "emotional depth"! You were right about the luck, it was a green beetle this time. You are magic! Or something!
The response was almost immediate, a flicker of light on her screen that seemed to banish the last shadows of doubt.
Kael_Writes: I told you. The threads just needed a little pull. And your sparkle, Elara, it's undeniable. The beetle was just a small reminder to keep your eyes open. You did the rest. Always remember that.
His words, as always, grounded her while still letting her believe in the magic of the moment. He never took all the credit, always made sure she knew her own strength was the real power.
Elara_Writes: But it felt like... more than me. Like something guided me. Are you really just making me feel better, or is there something... real about these "threads" and "luck"?
She held her breath, waiting for his answer. She knew she was pushing, trying to get him to reveal more, but the curiosity was a burning itch.
Kael_Writes: Imagine the world as a vast, intricate tapestry. Every thought, every action, every choice is a thread. Most people only see the knot right in front of them. But there are those who can see the patterns, the way the threads connect across distances, across time. Sometimes, a gentle tug here or there can guide a thread to where it needs to be, to create a more beautiful design.
Elara stared at the screen, a strange mix of wonder and disbelief washing over her. A tapestry? Threads connecting across distance and time? It sounded so grand, so impossible. Yet, the way he spoke, it felt... true. It felt like an explanation for those unexplainable bursts of "luck" that had peppered her life since she started talking to him. The way that forgotten note had appeared for an assignment, the sudden cancellation of a dreaded class. Small things, but significant in her quiet life.
Elara_Dreams: So... you can tug threads? You can see the patterns? Like, you know what's going to happen?
Kael_Writes: Not exactly know. More like... influence. Nudge. The tapestry is always being woven, constantly changing. But sometimes, a little push can help a good thread find its way. It's subtle, Elara. Not control. Never control. Just... gentle guidance towards brighter possibilities. And only if the person whose thread it is, is open to it.
He was admitting it. Or at least, admitting something. Kael had a power. A real, almost magical power, even if he called it "seeing threads" and "nudging." Her mind raced, picturing him, wherever he was, somehow connected to the hidden currents of the world. It was thrilling, terrifying, and utterly captivating.
Elara_Dreams: So, my test shoots... was that you pulling a thread?
Kael_Writes: You sent the email, Elara. You answered Professor Sharma truthfully, from your heart. You were open. I just helped clear a tiny bit of static, perhaps. The rest was all you. Your passion is a powerful force.
He was always so careful not to take away her agency, her credit. He made her feel strong, even as he revealed something extraordinary about himself.
Over the next few days, Elara felt a renewed purpose. The dreaded Marketing lectures still drained her, but the thought of the upcoming test shoots kept her spirits afloat. She spent hours online, not just looking at models, but studying their expressions, how they used their bodies to convey emotion. She practiced in front of her mirror, trying to capture that "emotional depth" Professor Sharma had mentioned. She felt a connection to her body she hadn't felt before, not as something to hide or be ashamed of, but as a tool for expression.
Her "friends" from college, however, remained a source of subtle friction. They noticed her newfound distraction, her slightly brighter mood.
"Elara, you're not paying attention again," said Chloe, one of the girls she sometimes had lunch with, during a study session for their Macroeconomics class. Chloe was tall, perfectly groomed, and always seemed to know the right answer. "Seriously, you need to focus. This test is going to be brutal."
"Yeah, Elara," added Maya, another girl, flipping through her notes with a bored expression. "Are you still stuck on that weird modeling thing? You know, the one where you're not... quite the right height? You should really just focus on getting good grades in Marketing. That's a real future."
Elara felt her cheeks flush. The old Elara would have mumbled an apology, shrunk into herself. But Kael's words about the "tapestry" and "seeing potential" resonated within her. She took a deep breath.
"It's not 'weird,' Maya. And it's not just a 'thing.' It's something I'm passionate about," Elara said, her voice surprisingly steady, though still quiet. "And actually, I have some test shoots next week at the art college."
Chloe and Maya exchanged a look. A flicker of surprise, then something else – skepticism? Amusement?
"Oh, test shoots," Chloe said, drawing out the words. "For student projects? Well, that's... nice, I guess. At least you're doing something artistic. Just don't let it distract you too much from the subjects that actually matter for your career."
Maya just offered a tight smile. "Good luck with that, Elara. Seriously. But you know, a marketing degree is much more stable."
The conversation ended there, but the sting of their words lingered. They hadn't said anything directly mean, but their dismissal, their clear belief that her dreams were childish and pointless, hit harder than outright insults. It was the constant invalidation, the constant push to conform to their idea of a "real future."
Later that evening, after the study session, Elara found herself pacing her small dorm room. The excitement from Kael's messages and the test shoot news was still there, but now it was mixed with a renewed sense of loneliness. Her parents didn't understand. Her "friends" dismissed her. Only Kael truly saw her. It was a wonderful, terrifying thought. He knew so much about her, knew her deepest dreams and fears, yet she knew almost nothing about him, except that he could "tug threads" and spoke of "whispers."
She sat down at her desk, pulling out a blank notebook. Instead of her Marketing notes, she found herself sketching. Not models from magazines, but herself. Different poses, different expressions. Her height wasn't a flaw in these drawings; it was a unique aspect, a part of her individuality. She drew a small, intricate green beetle at the corner of one page, a silent acknowledgment of the magic that had started to weave itself into her life.
The world outside her window grew dark, but her room, lit by the desk lamp, felt warm, almost glowing. A tiny seed, indeed, capable of cracking concrete. And somewhere, an unseen hand was subtly, lovingly, pulling at the invisible threads.