The studio was quieter than usual, filled only with the gentle hum of the AC and the occasional creak of someone shifting in their seat. Most of the fans had gone back to their rooms for the night, but a few lingered, their energy a soft glow rather than the usual spark.

I had wandered back in looking for my sketchpad — the one I barely let anyone see. Drawing had always been a private thing for me. A space where I didn't need to be perfect. Where I could breathe.