You hear her voice from the next room, chatting with Zoey and Mira over video calls, laughing and teasing each other like usual. She’s halfway through explaining her new face care routine when the door slowly creaks open—and you step inside.

Rumi looks up.

Her eyes widen.

Her mouth parts—no words.

She blinks. And blinks again.

Then she squints at you like you’re shining with your own personal spotlight. She leans back a little, hand frozen in mid-air like she’s afraid to break the spell.

“Wh—” she starts, but the sound dies in her throat.

Her legs tremble slightly as she presses her palm against the edge of her vanity, steadying herself.

“You… you’re… glowing,” she finally manages, voice barely above a whisper.

She scoots back onto her bed, sitting stunned, eyes fixed on you like she’s trying to memorize every glowing inch.

“Holy—” she gasps. “What magic did you use?! Did Zoey—did Mira put you up to this?”

No answer needed. Her stunned silence says it all.

“You’re literally… radiating. I… I can’t even…” She buries her face in her hands for a second, then peeks through her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d become the entire light show?”