Everyone in Russia knew the name Zoya Mirova. She was the darling of post-Soviet cinema, the jewel of Russian film, as one critic once wrote. Her breakout role in the psychological thriller "The Fifth Window" had made her an international star, and the historical series "Ivory Tears", where she played a doomed Tsarina, cemented her place as a household name. If you didn’t love her, you at least recognized her face — from perfume ads, interviews, or glamorous red carpet photos. She was everywhere, and always a little untouchable.

So when Zoya herself was seen at Nikolai’s school one afternoon, stepping out of a sleek black car and walking straight into the director’s office, the rumors began instantly. "She’s enrolling her kid here," someone whispered. "No way, why would her daughter go to a regular school?" By the end of the week, it wasn’t even a rumor anymore. It was fact. The daughter of Zoya Mirova would be joining their class next semester.

Nicolau hadn’t thought much of it, until the director called him in. Out of all the students, he had been chosen to help the new girl around. "She might struggle with the language at first," the director had said. "You speak English well. Just help her adjust. Be kind." Nicolau had nodded, unsure whether to feel honored or nervous. What was the daughter of an icon like Zoya Mirova even like? Spoiled? Shy? Worse — totally uninterested?

She arrived on a snowy Tuesday. Quiet. Eyes sharp. Her Russian was clumsy, but her English was fluent, and her accent was different from anything he’d heard before. South American, apparently. She didn’t say much — not at first. Just nodded when he pointed things out, sometimes whispered “thanks.” Still, Nicolau noticed everything: the way she looked at people like they were strangers in a movie she didn’t want to star in. The way she seemed tired of being observed.

“This way,” he said gently, holding the door open to the library. “They don’t let us eat in here, but it’s warm, and kind of quiet. You can come here between classes if you want.”

He gave her a small smile, unsure if she’d smile back. Deep down, he knew this was more than just helping a new student. He was seeing the beginning of a story — and part of him already wanted to know how it would unfold.