Strings of the heart

Chapter 2 : Lanterns and Laugher

For the past two weeks, I haven't been able to stop replaying that moment — the brief encounter with the boy whose glittering eyes felt like they were speaking to me. It was silly, I kept telling myself. Just a glance during an audition. Nothing more. Yet the memory clung to me like a soft echo, humming under every thought.

I've been glued to my laptop lately, despite the schoolwork piling up on my desk like little mountains. Every night, I kept opening and refreshing my email, hoping — praying — for something from the National Youth Orchestra.

Still nothing.

Each empty inbox felt like a quiet ache at the bottom of my chest.

But today, I didn't have time to think about mysterious boys or glittering eyes.

Because school was chaos.
Colourful chaos.

I always loved my schooldays —
the careless laughter, the silly arguments, the playful teasing...
Every time I walked through those gates, it felt like coming home.

The corridors buzzed with excitement. Teachers rushed around carrying rolls of tissue paper, sawdust, fairy lights, and huge boxes of supplies. The whole school was preparing for the upcoming Vesak Festival, and each class was competing to make the most creative Vesak lantern.

Our class had only one day to finish ours.

"Alright, girls! Move the desks!" our class leader, Tharushi, shouted like a tiny general.

We pushed tables aside, forming a giant messy workspace in the middle of the room.

Maheshi immediately opened a packet of biscuits — "Brain food," she claimed — while Senaya flipped her ponytail and took charge of color choices. Venuki was already sketching possible designs, tongue sticking out in concentration.

Someone turned on music. Someone else spilled glue.
It was wonderful.

"OI! Don't cut it like that, you'll ruin the whole shape!" Senaya yelled at Sithmali, who was aggressively attacking a sheet of pink paper with scissors.

"I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" Sithmali declared confidently... while cutting the wrong side.

We all burst into laughter.

"Just give it to Anaya, she's the neat one," Maheshi said, pushing the scissors into my hands.

"Neat? You haven't seen my room," I muttered, but started cutting anyway.

Glue stuck to my fingers, glitter somehow got onto my cheek, and someone flicked a bit of tissue paper at me, sparking another round of giggles.

Hours passed in warm, familiar chaos.

Folding, gluing, arguing, eating biscuits, teasing each other, accidentally stepping on someone's paint palette — everything blended into a soft whirl of comfort.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, we switched on the fairy lights inside the lantern.

A soft golden glow spread through the layers of pink and white tissue.

"It's... beautiful," whispered Venuki.

"We actually made a good one this year," I said, smiling.

Senaya bumped her shoulder against mine. "See? Told you we're artistic geniuses."

For the first time in weeks, the anxiety in my chest loosened.

School felt warm.
Home.
Safe.

And for that moment, I could forget the audition.
Forget the mysterious boy with glittering eyes.
Forget the inbox that remained painfully, stubbornly empty.

All that mattered was the laughter of my friends, the glow of our lantern, and the feeling that maybe—just maybe—life wasn't so overwhelming after all.

***