Two weeks had slipped by faster than I realized, each day blending into the next. Classes, deadlines, critiques—I was buried under a mountain of sketches, color swatches, and half-finished canvases. My studio space had become my sanctuary and my battlefield at the same time: the smell of acrylics thick in the air, brushes scattered like soldiers abandoned after a storm. I was hunched over my canvas, lost in layers of ochre and midnight blue, when I heard the familiar click of heels on the polished floor.

“Coffee?” Sue’s voice broke through my concentration. She was holding a warm cup, pink polish catching the light, and that effortless kikay charm she...