Sunday morning crept in slowly. The sun was just beginning to rise when I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my coffee cup that was slowly losing its warmth. The nervousness I had been suppressing since yesterday began to surface."Come on, De Cruz. You gave a seminar in front of dozens of people yesterday—how can this make you panic?" I muttered to myself."Talking to yourself again?" Elle appeared from the hallway wearing an oversized T-shirt that read I'm Not a Morning Person. Ironically, she looked like a runway model's morning version—her blonde hair artfully messy, with traces of yesterday's eyeliner giving her a dramatic flair."Are you ready for today?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.I shrugged. "I don't know... I just feel like I shouldn't—""Stop right there," Elle interrupted, pointing at me with a teaspoon. "You're beautiful, talented, and you have a face that could make men forget their own names. So use that confidence.""I'm not that pret
I looked up. Aaric was staring at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, curious. "Why that face?" he continued. "Like someone just told you that you won the lottery, but you're not sure if you actually want the money." I opened my mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Honestly, I had no idea how to explain this feeling. So, I just put my phone back on the table, faced my laptop screen, and tried to act like that email hadn't just turned my entire life upside down. Aaric wasn't buying it. "Come on, De Cruz. I can see that expression from across the room," he said, leaning in closer. "What is it? A bad grade? A call from the FBI?" I sighed, finally giving in. "If I told you I just got offered a modeling contract from one of the biggest fashion houses in the world, would you laugh or be shocked?" Aaric was silent for a few seconds. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Honestly? Not shocked." I frowned. "Why?" He shrugged like the answer was obvious. "You know why." I didn't
Music thumped from inside the rented house filled with college students. Colorful lights flickered on the living room ceiling, which had been turned into an improvised dance floor. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, expensive perfume, and something vaguely sweet—probably the result of someone getting a little too creative with their mixed drinks.I walked in with Elle and Joy, weaving past a group of students laughing loudly while playing beer pong at the kitchen table. The sound of conversations mixed with the music, creating the typical chaos of a college party that I knew would last until morning.“I need a drink,” Joy declared determinedly, disappearing toward the kitchen without waiting for a reply.Elle glanced at me, giving my outfit an approving once-over. “I knew you’d look amazing in something a little more fitted.”I just snorted. I wasn’t the type to dress up too much for parties. Tonight, I was wearing a slightly tighter black T-shirt than usual, paired with my
The night air cut through my skin, but I barely felt it. The alcohol still coursing through my veins created a thin fog in my mind, making everything feel slower, blurrier—bolder.Aaric stood so close, his breath grazing my skin, the warm scent of light tobacco, wood, and something unmistakably him mingling in the air. His eyes locked with mine, filled with something that should’ve made me step back, but instead, my feet stayed rooted to the spot. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.“You’re too quiet, De Cruz,” he murmured, his voice low and almost trembling between us. “You usually have something sharp to say.”I stared at him, my mind drifting somewhere far off. Part of me knew I should resist, should say something sarcastic, should do what I always did—get under his skin. But the alcohol, the cold night, and his face so close messed with my brain.Instead of answering, I only tilted my head slightly, noticing the sharp line of his jaw beneath the dim lig
The photoshoot studio is vast and bright, with large lights hanging from the ceiling, casting almost too-perfect a glow. The air is thick with the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume, mingling with the photographer’s voice directing the model across the room. People are moving back and forth, carrying clothes on hangers, makeup tools, and pricey cameras that make me feel like a deer caught in headlights.I’m sitting in front of a giant mirror, its round lights surrounding it, my hands gripping the chair’s arms while a makeup artist brushes my face. Next to me, Elle is recording a video on her phone, her face beaming with enthusiasm she can’t hide.“Okay, I have to capture this moment,” she says, pointing the camera at my face. “Maya De Cruz, the designer girl who suddenly became a model. What’s it like being the center of attention?”I snort, trying to look relaxed even though my fingers are still clutching the chair. “Honestly, I’d rather be behind the scenes.”Joy, sitting on a
The cold New York night air stung my skin as I stepped out of the café, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the creeping chill seeping through my coat. Fine snowflakes drifted from the dark sky, layering the sidewalk in a thin, powdery sheet. I had just spent the last few hours buried in my design project, losing track of time until I realized it was nearly midnight.I took a deep breath, ready to walk back to the apartment I shared with Elle and Joy. The café wasn’t too far from home—about ten blocks away. Normally, I enjoyed walking through the city, especially when the streetlights cast a warm glow and the city’s pulse stayed alive even late at night.But tonight felt different.I glanced across the street where a group of burly men stood huddled on the corner, leaning against the brick wall of an old building bathed in dim light. They spoke in low voices, chuckling occasionally, and one of them lit a cigarette. Not an unusual sight in this city. But the way they kept glanci
This morning, the faculty building felt colder than usual. The spring air, which should’ve been warm, still carried the remnants of winter’s bite. I walked down the third-floor corridor, the sound of my footsteps echoing against the walls lined with event posters and exam schedules.The Interdisciplinary Studio: Design and Architecture— a course that brought together graphic design, interior design, and architecture students for collaborative projects—was one of the most anticipated yet dreaded classes by many. Especially since Professor Sinclair was known for being tough and perfectionistic with every assignment.As soon as I entered the spacious, bright classroom, I was met by the buzz of students busy preparing their presentation materials. The morning sunlight streamed through the large glass wall on one side of the room, casting soft shadows on the polished wood floor. Long tables were arranged in a U-shape, allowing everyone to face each other easily.I chose a seat by the windo
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain trapped behind dark clouds at the horizon. The orange light began to fade, replaced by streaks of purple and deep blue. The city’s hum grew clearer from the rooftop, as if reminding me that time kept moving even while we were caught in this never-ending game of egos.I tried to focus again on the sketchpad in front of me—rough outlines of an interactive garden with dynamic panels that could reshape themselves according to the needs of the public—an open-space concept blending nature and technology. But my concentration was broken, disturbed by the man next to me, still wearing that half-mocking smile with his arms crossed over his chest.“Modular design, interactive public space,” Aaric repeated his idea with a dismissive tone. “Ambitious, but too complex for a student project.”I snorted. “That’s what makes it interesting. I prefer a challenge over just designing a flower garden with wooden benches.”He raised an eyebrow, looking at me l
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain trapped behind dark clouds at the horizon. The orange light began to fade, replaced by streaks of purple and deep blue. The city’s hum grew clearer from the rooftop, as if reminding me that time kept moving even while we were caught in this never-ending game of egos.I tried to focus again on the sketchpad in front of me—rough outlines of an interactive garden with dynamic panels that could reshape themselves according to the needs of the public—an open-space concept blending nature and technology. But my concentration was broken, disturbed by the man next to me, still wearing that half-mocking smile with his arms crossed over his chest.“Modular design, interactive public space,” Aaric repeated his idea with a dismissive tone. “Ambitious, but too complex for a student project.”I snorted. “That’s what makes it interesting. I prefer a challenge over just designing a flower garden with wooden benches.”He raised an eyebrow, looking at me l
This morning, the faculty building felt colder than usual. The spring air, which should’ve been warm, still carried the remnants of winter’s bite. I walked down the third-floor corridor, the sound of my footsteps echoing against the walls lined with event posters and exam schedules.The Interdisciplinary Studio: Design and Architecture— a course that brought together graphic design, interior design, and architecture students for collaborative projects—was one of the most anticipated yet dreaded classes by many. Especially since Professor Sinclair was known for being tough and perfectionistic with every assignment.As soon as I entered the spacious, bright classroom, I was met by the buzz of students busy preparing their presentation materials. The morning sunlight streamed through the large glass wall on one side of the room, casting soft shadows on the polished wood floor. Long tables were arranged in a U-shape, allowing everyone to face each other easily.I chose a seat by the windo
The cold New York night air stung my skin as I stepped out of the café, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the creeping chill seeping through my coat. Fine snowflakes drifted from the dark sky, layering the sidewalk in a thin, powdery sheet. I had just spent the last few hours buried in my design project, losing track of time until I realized it was nearly midnight.I took a deep breath, ready to walk back to the apartment I shared with Elle and Joy. The café wasn’t too far from home—about ten blocks away. Normally, I enjoyed walking through the city, especially when the streetlights cast a warm glow and the city’s pulse stayed alive even late at night.But tonight felt different.I glanced across the street where a group of burly men stood huddled on the corner, leaning against the brick wall of an old building bathed in dim light. They spoke in low voices, chuckling occasionally, and one of them lit a cigarette. Not an unusual sight in this city. But the way they kept glanci
The photoshoot studio is vast and bright, with large lights hanging from the ceiling, casting almost too-perfect a glow. The air is thick with the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume, mingling with the photographer’s voice directing the model across the room. People are moving back and forth, carrying clothes on hangers, makeup tools, and pricey cameras that make me feel like a deer caught in headlights.I’m sitting in front of a giant mirror, its round lights surrounding it, my hands gripping the chair’s arms while a makeup artist brushes my face. Next to me, Elle is recording a video on her phone, her face beaming with enthusiasm she can’t hide.“Okay, I have to capture this moment,” she says, pointing the camera at my face. “Maya De Cruz, the designer girl who suddenly became a model. What’s it like being the center of attention?”I snort, trying to look relaxed even though my fingers are still clutching the chair. “Honestly, I’d rather be behind the scenes.”Joy, sitting on a
The night air cut through my skin, but I barely felt it. The alcohol still coursing through my veins created a thin fog in my mind, making everything feel slower, blurrier—bolder.Aaric stood so close, his breath grazing my skin, the warm scent of light tobacco, wood, and something unmistakably him mingling in the air. His eyes locked with mine, filled with something that should’ve made me step back, but instead, my feet stayed rooted to the spot. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.“You’re too quiet, De Cruz,” he murmured, his voice low and almost trembling between us. “You usually have something sharp to say.”I stared at him, my mind drifting somewhere far off. Part of me knew I should resist, should say something sarcastic, should do what I always did—get under his skin. But the alcohol, the cold night, and his face so close messed with my brain.Instead of answering, I only tilted my head slightly, noticing the sharp line of his jaw beneath the dim lig
Music thumped from inside the rented house filled with college students. Colorful lights flickered on the living room ceiling, which had been turned into an improvised dance floor. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, expensive perfume, and something vaguely sweet—probably the result of someone getting a little too creative with their mixed drinks.I walked in with Elle and Joy, weaving past a group of students laughing loudly while playing beer pong at the kitchen table. The sound of conversations mixed with the music, creating the typical chaos of a college party that I knew would last until morning.“I need a drink,” Joy declared determinedly, disappearing toward the kitchen without waiting for a reply.Elle glanced at me, giving my outfit an approving once-over. “I knew you’d look amazing in something a little more fitted.”I just snorted. I wasn’t the type to dress up too much for parties. Tonight, I was wearing a slightly tighter black T-shirt than usual, paired with my
I looked up. Aaric was staring at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, curious. "Why that face?" he continued. "Like someone just told you that you won the lottery, but you're not sure if you actually want the money." I opened my mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Honestly, I had no idea how to explain this feeling. So, I just put my phone back on the table, faced my laptop screen, and tried to act like that email hadn't just turned my entire life upside down. Aaric wasn't buying it. "Come on, De Cruz. I can see that expression from across the room," he said, leaning in closer. "What is it? A bad grade? A call from the FBI?" I sighed, finally giving in. "If I told you I just got offered a modeling contract from one of the biggest fashion houses in the world, would you laugh or be shocked?" Aaric was silent for a few seconds. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Honestly? Not shocked." I frowned. "Why?" He shrugged like the answer was obvious. "You know why." I didn't
Sunday morning crept in slowly. The sun was just beginning to rise when I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my coffee cup that was slowly losing its warmth. The nervousness I had been suppressing since yesterday began to surface."Come on, De Cruz. You gave a seminar in front of dozens of people yesterday—how can this make you panic?" I muttered to myself."Talking to yourself again?" Elle appeared from the hallway wearing an oversized T-shirt that read I'm Not a Morning Person. Ironically, she looked like a runway model's morning version—her blonde hair artfully messy, with traces of yesterday's eyeliner giving her a dramatic flair."Are you ready for today?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.I shrugged. "I don't know... I just feel like I shouldn't—""Stop right there," Elle interrupted, pointing at me with a teaspoon. "You're beautiful, talented, and you have a face that could make men forget their own names. So use that confidence.""I'm not that pret
I stood in front of the auditorium, gripping the remote for my slide presentation tightly. The room was fuller than I had expected. Faces of students from various majors filled the rows of seats—some looked serious, others were whispering, either about me or about what they had for lunch. But I didn’t care. I had spent days preparing this material, and I knew exactly what I was doing."Good morning, everyone," my voice rang out clearly, steady—far more confident than I actually felt. "I’m Maya De Cruz, from the visual design department. Today, I’ll be talking about how design influences spatial perception—and why this matters, not just for us designers, but for all of you studying architecture, engineering, even business."I pressed the button on the remote, displaying the first slide: "The Psychology of Space.""Every room has a story," I continued. "And that story begins with how we perceive the space. Imagine walking into a small café with dim lighting, exposed brick walls, and the