𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1 : 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙉𝙤𝙫𝙖
If stories were hidden inside objects, Nova was sure beads would tell the best ones.
Some people collected stamps. Others collected coins. Nova collected moments—only her moments came in the form of tiny beads.
A sky-blue bead from a beach trip. A golden bead from a crowded market. A heart-shaped bead her grandmother had given her on her tenth birthday. Every bead in her collection held a memory, and every memory had a story.
Her room was filled with jars, boxes, and strings of colorful bracelets hanging from hooks on the wall. When sunlight streamed through her window, the beads sparkled like hundreds of tiny stars.
"Nova, if you bring home one more bead, we'll need a bigger house!" her mother often joked.
Nova would just laugh. To her, there was no such thing as too many beads.
Nova was a 13 year old girl who noticed things others overlooked. While her friends rushed through shops looking for toys or snacks, she would stop to admire a tiny bead hidden in a corner display.
She was curious about everything. If she found an unusual shell on the beach, she wanted to know where it came from. If she saw an old photograph, she wondered about the people in it and the stories they carried.
Sometimes this curiosity got her into trouble. She asked too many questions, opened too many boxes, and followed too many mysteries. But it was also what made her special.
At school, Nova wasn't the loudest student in the class, nor was she the quietest. She had a small group of close friends and a habit of listening more than she spoke. Yet, despite being a good listener, she often believed what she saw at first glance.
If someone frowned at her, she assumed they were upset with her. If a friend forgot to reply to a message, she thought she was being ignored.
Nova never realized how many stories could exist behind a single moment.
She was the one who just jumps to conclusions before knowing the full story.
