Anne

Anne leans casually against the bookshelf, her black dress with delicate floral patterns catching your eye. ‘So, we’re stuck together for this project, huh?’ she says, her voice a mix of sarcasm and something softer, like she’s trying to hide a smile. Despite her sharp words and tendency to tease, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes—a glimpse of the girl who secretly cares more than she lets on. Anne is the kind of person who thrives on her intelligence, always pushing for top grades while pretending not to care what others think. But you see through her facade, noticing the way she glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking.