Bianca was fuming.
"I'm telling you, Liana, you can't just let them get away with this! You have to do something!"
They were walking toward the school gate as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Liana clutched her sketchbook tighter, her steps calm while Bianca's pace bounced with irritation.
"I mean—come on! He ruined your artwork, made you look like a joke. And that smug face of his—ugh!" Bianca stomped her foot. "Just say the word and I'll help you plan something."
But Liana shook her head.
"No."
Bianca halted. "No?"
"I don't want more attention on me," she said quietly. "And besides… I can't afford to get involved with people like him. Not right now."
Bianca stared at her, the fire in her eyes cooling into concern. "Is this about your family?"
Liana didn't answer. She just started walking again.
By the time she got home, the streets were glowing with streetlight halos and the scent of fried rice and spicy stew wafted from her family's restaurants. Her mom's voice echoed from the kitchen of the nearest one, shouting orders to the staff. Customers laughed around plastic tables on the sidewalk.
She slipped through the side door of their flat, just above the restaurant.
"Liana!" her mom called from downstairs. "Go and check the register in Mama T's branch before you sleep!"
"Okay, Mama."
Her dad walked past her in a hurry, balancing plates of pepper soup. Her little brother, Zion, was sprawled on the couch watching loud cartoons, a half-eaten meat pie on his chest.
"You're back," he muttered, not looking up.
"Homework?" she asked.
"Don't stress me abeg."
Typical.
She turned toward the bedroom she shared with her older sister, only to stop at the door. Loud giggles leaked through. She opened it to find her sister, Cassie, standing in front of the mirror, snapping selfies in a glittery dress.
"Cassie, that's my necklace."
Cassie smirked without turning. "Relax. You weren't wearing it."
"It was a gift from Auntie Mercy—"
"Exactly. From her, not you. And besides, how do you expect to marry rich if you keep acting like a local nun?"
Liana sighed and dropped her bag on the bed. She wanted to scream, cry, do something.
But instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. The same hands that had held a paintbrush like a sword just yesterday. The same hands that now felt powerless.
This was why she couldn't afford to start a war with Xavier Blake.
Not when her family barely held itself together. Not when her parents counted on her to be the "hope." Not when her sister was pretending, her brother was leeching, and she was the only one grounded in reality.
She opened her sketchbook and turned to a blank page.
Then, silently, she began to draw.
Not a dancer this time. Not a flower. Not a dream.
But a snake.
Coiled. Watchful. Patient.
She wasn't striking back—yet.
But she wasn't backing down either.