In a secluded corner of the school library, Amaya and Zeya sat together, the soft whispers of their conversation blending with the hushed atmosphere. Amaya flipped the page of her notebook, her eyes scanning the words, but her gaze was distant, as if she were peering into a world far away. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a haunting paleness that hinted at unspoken worries. Zeya's brow furrowing in confusion as she glanced at Amaya's notes, which displayed two distinct handwritings.
"Which one is your handwriting?" Zeya asked gently, her voice a soothing balm that pulled Amaya back from her thoughts.
