It's been a month now. Angel feels like her stay in the school might bring a complete turnaround — a way of breaking out of her shell.
"I just want to sing and be heard… but why do I feel overwhelmed?" she thought.
"What does the music building look like?"
Feeling curious, she decides to take a walk down to the building.
As she steps closer, the air itself seems to change — like it's charged with something electric, something alive.
The building stands slightly apart from the others on campus, tucked behind the main hall like a hidden gem. It isn't flashy, but there's something different about it. Its brick walls are old but solid, covered in ivy vines that sway gently in the wind. A faded sign above the door simply reads "MUSIC BLOCK" in bold, gold letters. From inside, she hears faint notes of a piano blending softly with the hum of a saxophone, like a private concert meant only for those who dare to enter.
She pushes the door open and steps inside — and instantly, the world outside disappears.
The hallway is warm, lined with student-made posters for past music showcases, some edges curled with time. Framed photos of smiling students holding guitars, violins, and microphones line the walls like quiet witnesses of greatness. There's a certain scent in the air — part old wood, part dust, and part something she can only describe as… inspiration.
As she walks further, the floor creaks slightly under her shoes. The sound rooms are small but neatly arranged. Some have glass windows where she can peek in — one has a boy strumming a guitar, eyes closed like he's lost in another world; another has a girl rapping into a mic with pure fire in her eyes. No one notices her, but she feels like she's trespassing in a sacred place — a temple for sound, where talent isn't just welcomed, it's celebrated.
Her heart thumps as she reaches the main rehearsal room. It's wide, with walls padded for sound and a small stage at the far end. Instruments are scattered around — a grand piano gleaming under the warm light, drum sets waiting like silent beasts, guitars leaning against the wall as if resting between battles.
She takes a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, she doesn't feel like just another student.
She feels like she's meant to be there.
Standing in the rehearsal room, something inside her nudges her to sing. She feels overwhelmed, unsure of herself. The instruments around her make her feel small. It has always been her dream — daring to sing in front of a crowd, with cheers and excitement on the faces of her fans, giving life to her lyrics.
She stands at the edge of the room, eyes locked on the small stage. It isn't big or fancy — just a raised wooden platform with a single mic stand in the center — but to her, it looks like a mountain.
The kind you dream of climbing but never actually dare.
Students are scattered around the room, busy in their own world of music — someone adjusting drums, another humming scales on a keyboard. No one is watching her. Still, her palms are damp.
"What am I doing here?"
She isn't like them. She doesn't carry a guitar case or wear headphones around her neck like armor. She doesn't even have the confidence to hum when others are listening. And yet…
The stage keeps pulling at her.
Her feet move before her mind can argue. Step by step, slow and unsure. The wooden boards creak gently as she climbs up.
She stands there, alone. Her fingers hover near the mic, but she doesn't touch it. Instead, she closes her eyes.
For a second, the noise of the room fades. She imagines what it would feel like — to let her voice out, raw and trembling. To not care if it cracks. To not care if her mum watches and scolds her. Just to sing… for herself.
No one asks her to. No one expects anything. But deep down, something in her wants to feel the sound rise from her chest, pass through her throat, and fill the air like it belongs.
But she stands there. She breathes in the silence. And in that moment, she makes a quiet promise to herself:
"Next time, I will."
Just as she's about to step down, she hears footsteps behind her.
She barely glances over her shoulder — until she hears the footsteps.
Then she freezes.
No freaking way.
He steps into the room like he owns the air — tall, annoyingly perfect face, hoodie half-zipped, and a kind of effortless arrogance that screams: Don't talk to me unless you have talent or leave.
"Liam?" i guess he's here to practice too"
She knows Liam as the guy who barely says two words in class but somehow has girls writing him love letters. The guy known for a voice that could melt steel — and a face that makes teachers hesitate to punish him. The same guy who once told a girl her perfume gave him a headache.
Yep. That Liam.
He spots her on stage and raises a brow — like she's interrupted his alone time or stolen his favorite spot on the couch.
"You lost?" he asks dryly, dropping his bag on the floor like he's already bored.
She blinks. "Excuse me?"
"I said," he gestures lazily toward the mic, "unless you're testing if it works, maybe try singing into it."
Angel gawks. "Wow. You're just as charming as I remember."
He gives her a slow, unimpressed look. "And you're still dramatic."
She crosses her arms. "I didn't know this place belonged to you."
"It doesn't," he says. "But it also doesn't belong to girls who look like they're auditioning for a nervous breakdown."
Angel's mouth drops open. "Are you always this rude, or is it just a special talent?"
He shrugs. "Only when girls like you waste my oxygen."
She narrows her eyes. "Maybe I should sing just to annoy you."
"Please do. You've got a voice?"
He shrugs again.
She takes a sharp breath, stomps toward the mic, and sings — not to impress, not even for herself — just to prove him wrong.
And when she does… the room changes.
At first, her voice comes out small — doubt laced every note. But as the melody takes hold, something inside her cracks open.
Her voice grows, rich and warm, trembling at first, then rising with quiet strength. Liam's smug expression falters. His eyes flicker — confused, caught off guard.
Brian, who's been watching from afar, stands frozen.
He hadn't expected that. The way her voice fills the room, causing silence and gasps of surprise across students' faces. Just as she sings, Evelyn walks in. She's heard the melodious voice before she stepped in but never guessed it came from her — Angel.
She glances at the look on the students' faces, and it makes her feel annoyed.
"Those looks should be only for me. Why that expression?"
She knows the voice is mesmerizing — even better than hers — but she's not ready to accept that fact.
Just then, she looks towards the stage, surprised to see Liam there too —
with her?
Angel finishes and looks down at him triumphantly.
"Well?" she asks.
He blinks. "I've heard worse."
"That's your review?" she scoffs.
He turns to his bag, already walking away. "Don't get excited. I said worse — not bad."
But as he passes, he pauses briefly and mutters under his breath — low enough she almost misses it:
"You've got a voice. Just work on the attitude."
She stares after him, stunned.
"Me? Work on my attitude?"
But even as she says it, she can't help the way her lips curve into a grin.
She hasn't noticed the students' expressions. But just as she's about to leave, they begin cheering and giving excellent reviews. She feels like disappearing into thin air. She completely forgot students were in the hall, practicing. But somehow, those cheers whisper confidence into her.
"Is this what it feels like to receive cheers?"
It feels like another nightmare.
Suddenly, she remembers her mum's words:
"You will never make it singing. I'll never support that! Those lyrics, they are crap!"
She has often tried to decipher why her mum never supports her dream. Maybe it's because her father was once threatened to death by an unknown friend over a lyric. She's yet to discover who the friend was, and why a lyric would cause such disaster. Now, her mum doesn't want her walking that same path — music.
After remembering those words, she isn't sure she deserves the cheers. Suddenly, tears roll down her cheeks. She hurries off the stage, leaving people murmuring about what just happened.
Brian runs immediately to meet her outside.
"Hey," a calm voice echoes from afar. She turns sharply, wiping away her tears.
He has the kind of face people notice — not because it's perfect, but because it's alive. Curious eyes, half-smile, quiet confidence.
"I've been watching you," he says casually. "You climbed up there, your voice… really lovely. But why did you run?"
She sees the sincerity in his eyes and somehow, she doesn't know why… she believes him.
She gives a nervous laugh, brushing her fingers through her hair.
"I've never sung in front of people. Just me and my music, in silence. I just felt… I don't deserve those cheers."
"You deserve it."
Her heart thuds. She doesn't know why his words affect her.
"Music helps me heal my scars," he says. "I don't care what the world says. I just want to be happy. And you… what does music mean to you? Why not use music to break out of your shell too?"
She's completely lost in his words. She feels like she's finally seen someone who can read through her.
Their eyes meet.
And just like that, something unspoken passes between them. She can hear her heart thud, but she's quick to control it.
"Erm… I'll take my leave now."
She leaves before he can say anything else.
He blinks. Then smiles — not the half smile from earlier, but something real.