She blinked once, twice, three times—and still, nothing changed.
No shift in the air. No sudden blur. No gentle lie to convince her it was all in her head.
Reality remained sharp, unsoftened, unbearably clear. Somehow, that hurt more than anything else. For a heartbeat, she hesitated—was this truly happening, or was she trapped in some cruel, vivid dream?
The sky above, once clear, seemed darker now. Not with clouds—they still hovered far off—but with something heavier, something unseen, wrapping itself around her like a fog she couldn't shake.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't sudden.
It was simply breaking... slow, silent, and absolute.
The world she had known began to fracture. Not with a crash, but with soft, spreading cracks—too fine to notice at first. Yet once they appeared, they only deepened, widening until nothing remained whole.
Time moved on, but sluggishly, dragging her through each second as if demanding she feel every moment in full.
"I should've known better... I should've never let myself hope..." The thought echoed through her mind, soft yet relentless, looping like a song she couldn't turn off.
She had known better. Hope had never been kind. Still, she had clung to it because some stubborn part of her wanted to believe.
A breeze stirred, threading through her dark, wavy hair. Autumn at its gentlest, but the cold she felt had little to do with the weather.
She stood motionless, her gaze fixed ahead. Her soft eyes appeared calm, almost blank—a perfect mask. Inside, everything had already fallen apart.
And in front of her... they smiled.
Standing close, shoulder to shoulder, as if space had never existed between them.
He wore his usual denim jacket, one hand wrapped instinctively around hers, as though it had always belonged there. She leaned into him effortlessly, head tilted up with a radiant, easy smile—the kind that lit up without trying.
They looked happy.
They looked... right.
And Lyra? She just watched. Silent, unmoving
It felt like staring through glass. Close enough to see every detail, yet forever on the outside.
Why did it hurt to see them like that?
Why did the warmth in their smiles never quite reach their eyes?
Why did everything—the laughter, the chatter—feel like it belonged to someone else?
Was it just her?
Was she the only one standing still while the rest of the world moved on?
"Wait... seriously? No way... congrats, Walter! Suzie!" The voice came from somewhere behind, loud and unfiltered, spilling over with excitement. "We have to celebrate this!"
Walter chuckled. "You're overreacting, Arlo."
The boy—Arlo—scoffed, grinning. "Come on, man! I'm just shocked, that's all. Never thought you two would actually get together."
Suzie laughed, brushing her shoulder against Walter's before resting her head on him. "Guess we did," she said softly.
Arlo groaned dramatically. "Ugh, lovebirds. The rest of us are just background extras in your little love story now."
They laughed again—lightly, comfortably. The kind born from years of friendship, steady and sure.
But one person didn't laugh.
Walter glanced over. "Lyra?"
She blinked, startled. "Hm?"
"You alright?" Arlo's voice dropped, just a little.
Lyra nodded faintly. "Yeah... I'm fine." The words slipped out too easily, her voice light, but the faint tremor beneath betrayed her. "Congrats, you two. Really. I hope it lasts."
Suzie's face lit up. She reached out, squeezing Lyra's hand warmly. "Thanks, Lyra! Honestly... we owe this to you."
Lyra frowned. "Wait, what?"
Walter looked over, curious. "What do you mean?"
Suzie laughed quietly. "I mean, you helped me sort out how I really felt. All those late-night talks you listened to—through all my overthinking, every time I doubted what I felt."
She smiled, then hooked her arm around Walter's with a softness that came naturally.
Walter raised his brows and glanced back at Lyra, a grateful smile curving his lips. "Guess I owe you too, huh?"
Lyra returned a faint nod. "Don't mention it." Her smile was uneven—not sad, not quite alright, just... there.
It all sounded casual, ordinary. But beneath her voice was something fragile, unnoticed by everyone. Like a wince hidden behind gentleness.
"Alright, alright! A toast!" Arlo announced, raising his drink with flair. "To Walter and Suzie!"
"Geez, you're too much," Suzie laughed, but when she caught Lyra and Walter lifting their glasses too, she joined in.
Their glasses met with a crisp clink, quickly swallowed by more laughter.
Lyra drank deeply, feeling the cold slip down and settle somewhere hollow inside her. A small part of her hoped it would wash the bitterness away.
It didn't.
No one saw it.
Behind her smile, something had already begun to break.
--------
"Come on, I'll drive you home," Arlo offered, leaning casually against the hood of his car. Lyra stood beside him, eyes fixed on the distance.
Their usual hangout had wrapped up. Walter and Suzie had already left, leaving only the two of them lingering in the quiet. The occasional hum of passing cars and the soft rustling of the night breeze were the only sounds around.
Lyra turned to him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You sure? Wouldn't want your girlfriend getting mad again," she teased lightly, trying to keep things casual like always.
Arlo laughed, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Who said I have a girlfriend?" He flashed a mischievous grin. "Still single. Want to change that?"
Lyra chuckled. "You're not exactly my type."
He pulled a mock-wounded face. "Ouch. Harsh. So, if not me, then who?"
He shot her a look, and for a moment, it was clear where the conversation was headed.
"So… what's your type then?" His voice dropped to a more serious tone. "Walter?"
For a second, Lyra froze. Her eyes widened and her brows furrowed instinctively. But just as quickly, she brushed it off with a smile, keeping the mood light.
"What are you talking about?" she said, though a knot had already formed in her chest. "Don't be ridiculous. He's with Suzie."
Arlo nodded slowly, then shrugged, almost too casually. "So?"
Lyra blinked, confused. "So what?"
"So what if he's with Suzie?" His gaze sharpened, the teasing gone from his expression.
She stared at him, unsettled by the sudden shift. "What are you saying? That you want me to be a homewrecker? A traitor?" She half-laughed, but a thread of seriousness ran beneath it.
Instead of answering, Arlo just smiled, folding his arms across his chest. "So you're admitting it."
"What?" Her frown deepened.
Arlo sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Lyra, I know the 'I'm fine' look you always put on."
"I'm fine." She tried to sound confident, but a slight waver betrayed her. "You're being weird."
Arlo studied her carefully, as if waiting for her to drop the act. Then, his voice softened. "Alright, if you don't want to talk about it." He shrugged lazily. "But don't pretend it doesn't hurt."
Nothing came from Lyra — just the quiet of her mind.
"We've been friends long enough," he continued. "I know you better than that."
The night air grew colder, the breeze brushing past her like a reminder. Lyra dropped her gaze, clutching her hands tightly.
She wanted to say something, but every part of her wanted to run from the truth.
Because deep down, she knew… Arlo was right.
--------
The key turned with a soft click, and the door opened. Lyra stepped into her small apartment—barely big enough for one. The living room was cramped, with a couch she often used to read or simply lie back and breathe. Her tiny kitchen, tucked into a corner, sat beside a dining table set for two, though she almost always ate alone.
She kicked off her shoes and placed them neatly by the door. She was exhausted—but not just from the day's events. There was something heavier pressing against her chest, something that had been there all evening.
Without thinking, she headed to the bathroom. The warm water from the shower offered brief comfort—a moment of calm amid the storm in her mind. But even as steam fogged the mirror, her thoughts stayed tangled.
Afterward, she slipped into a soft t-shirt and shorts. She opened the fridge, found yesterday's leftovers, and popped them into the microwave. As she waited, she leaned against the counter, staring ahead—lost in thought.
"Why do I feel like this?" she muttered, sinking into one of the chairs.
"How long has it been like this?" Her grip tightened around the spoon.
"I'm always the one behind the scenes, the supporter."
"I'm the listener, the advice-giver, the one who makes sure everything's okay. But no one really sees me."
She let out a dry laugh, humorless. "I even helped Suzie figure out her feelings for Walter."
Her gaze drifted toward the window, catching her reflection in the glass—dim, distant. "And look at them now. They're happy."
The microwave beeped, snapping her out of the spiral. She retrieved her food, sat at the table, and began to eat slowly. But every bite tasted bland—whether from distraction or the weight of long-suppressed emotion, she wasn't sure.
She didn't even notice when she stopped chewing, staring blankly out the window, alone.
The four of them—Arlo, Walter, Suzie, and herself—had been friends since high school. Inseparable, in their own way. A kind of family, despite their differences. Somehow, something always held them together.
They had been through so much—skipping class, laughing in the cafeteria, fighting over nonsense and making up like it never happened. They'd leaned on each other through the hardest times, lifting one another up when everything else felt too heavy. Even after graduation, after choosing different majors and different paths, they still found time. For coffee. For long walks. For places that reminded them of simpler days.
Their friendship had always felt solid. Unshakable. But time didn't wait. And none of them had seen this coming—not like this.
Lyra sighed softly. "I shouldn't feel like this… I should be happy for them. I shouldn't want more."
But hope—she knew—was the hardest thing to let go of.
Her eyes drifted closed, heavy, surrendering to the silence. Outside, the streetlights flickered, dim and unsteady. But the night felt darker than usual.
--------
"Ugh! Why today of all days?!" she grumbled inwardly.
From the moment she woke up, the day had gone downhill. The alarm had blared more than once, but her body just refused to move. After a long night full of melancholy and dilemmas, she now found herself sprinting across campus. Her knee-length skirt fluttered with each step, and her breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. Her shoes were still half-tied, making everything worse—but there was no time to fix them.
She should've been in the meeting room ten minutes ago. With only two months left until the campus festival, punctuality wasn't optional—especially for someone in the sponsorship and vendor division.
As she bolted through the corridor toward the meeting building, she checked her phone, hoping for a message from the committee. That was her mistake.
"Ouch!" Her foot caught on something—or someone.
Books and papers went flying. Lyra stumbled, nearly falling, but caught herself on a nearby bench. The person she'd collided with was now sitting on the ground, rubbing his scraped knee.
"Huh... a surprise attack this early?" he muttered, looking up at her with a mix of confusion and amusement.
The dark-haired girl immediately bent to gather the scattered papers. "Sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"Clearly not on purpose," he said flatly. "But still a hassle…"
She didn't respond, focused on collecting her things.
The guy watched her for a moment, clearly annoyed. But after seeing her fumble, he finally gave in and helped, stacking her books—filled with scribbles—and gathering her colorful pages.
Once everything was in a neat pile, he handed them back to her. "Here."
Lyra looked up for the first time, taking him in properly. His hair was a mess, and his oversized varsity jacket made him look far too relaxed for such a chaotic morning.
"Thanks," she said, taking the papers. Then, awkwardly, "Sorry… again, about earlier."
She cursed herself inwardly. In her rush, she hadn't even checked if he was okay.
"Are you okay?" she asked, guilt creeping in.
The guy crossed his arms. "What do you think?"
Lyra flinched at his sharp tone. "Sorry…"
"Is that all you're going to say?"
"So, what do you want me to do?" she blinked, confused. "I mean… are you hurt? I can cover the hospital bill if you want—but I really have to get to the meeting room. The president's going to kill me… especially since it's our first meeting."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're on the festival committee?"
Lyra nodded quickly.
"Then take me with you."
"Huh? You want to rat me out so I get punished worse?" Lyra stared, bewildered. "Come on, I already apologized. I said I'd pay your medical bills—what more do you want?"
He rolled his eyes. Honestly, she was kind of cute. If he could, he'd tug her ears himself. "I'm on the committee too," he said. "Media and Public Relations division."
"Really?" Lyra tried to remember, but nothing came up. She hadn't seen him at any division meetings. Then again, she'd only focused on the people in her own team—funding and partnerships.
"Ah… I see."
The guy checked his watch, then glanced back at her. "If we stand around any longer, we'll both be late. Show me where the meeting room is."
"Right!" Lyra's panic returned. She turned toward the meeting building. "Geez, you're right… let's go!"
Without waiting, she took off again—this time more cautiously. Behind her, the guy shook his head and followed.
After a few minutes of breathless running, they finally reached the meeting room door. It was shut—never a good sign.
Lyra swallowed hard. Robin simply sighed.
'Huft... guess I'm about to get scolded,' she muttered, reaching for the handle.
The door creaked open, and immediately, every head in the room turned toward them. At the far end of the table, a man in a button-up with rolled sleeves and a no-nonsense expression fixed them with a stare. His arms were crossed, and his posture said he'd been waiting.
"Why are you late?" His voice was calm but firm.
Lyra winced. "I'm sorry... I overslept and—"
"Lyra." The President, whose name tag read Alton, cut her off. "I know you're busy with classes, but this meeting matters."
"I know. I'm really sorry... It won't happen again," she said quickly, sliding into a seat before he could continue.
Alton's gaze shifted to the guy beside her. "You too, Robin. I know you're a freshman, but that's no excuse. You need to adapt."
Robin gave a lazy shrug. "I'll try."
"Don't just try, do it. This isn't a club for messing around." Alton's tone was sharper now, but he moved on and continued with the meeting.
Lyra exhaled, relieved the scolding had ended there. She turned to Robin, arms crossed and brow raised. "Ah... so that's why you didn't know where the meeting room was, a freshman?"
Robin turned his head slowly toward her, deadpan. "Looks like you can use your brain after all."
Lyra blinked. "Huh?"
The tone wasn't exactly hostile—but it definitely wasn't friendly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed under her breath.
Robin only gave a casual shrug, the faintest smirk pulling at his lips. Somehow, that smile made her want to smack him even more.
"God, we just met and I already want to throw a book at your head," she muttered, rubbing her temple.
Robin chuckled softly and turned his focus back to the meeting.
Lyra stared ahead, trying to listen, but part of her was still mentally compiling a list of things she'd like to throw at him.
--------
The room shifted with the scrape of chairs as Alton stepped forward. Clipboard in hand, he adjusted his glasses, his expression as precise as his tone.
"Alright. This is our first official meeting to prepare for the campus festival. I expect everyone here to be ready to put in the work."
He tapped his pen against the whiteboard as the projector flickered to life behind him. The NOVA Fest logo appeared in bold color.
"As you all know, this is the university's biggest annual event. This year's theme is Ignite Your Passion—a call for students to express themselves, explore their interests, and showcase their talents. We'll have food stalls, a creative bazaar, music and art performances, plus interactive activities throughout the week."
His voice deepened, more focused now.
"The main venue will be the central campus area. There will be a large performance stage, rows of outdoor booths, and several indoor spaces for workshops and exhibitions. The Student Council will be coordinating with all divisions, as well as student clubs across faculties. This festival's success depends on how well we work together."
Low murmurs rose around the room. Some people looked thrilled; others immediately dove into their notebooks.
Alton began reviewing the responsibilities for each division, focusing especially on Funding & Partnerships and Media & Publications, the two that had to work hand in hand.
"Funding is responsible for securing sponsors and partners, negotiating deals, and providing detailed info about each sponsor. That list must go to Media on time—no delays."
His gaze swept the room, lingering on a few faces.
"Media & Publications will handle all promotions. You'll run the social media accounts, design posters and banners, and produce online content. Everything must reflect the correct sponsors and branding."
Alton exhaled slowly, as if bracing for the chaos to come. "Funding and Media must coordinate consistently. No guesswork. If the sponsor list changes, communicate it. Immediately."
In the corner, Lyra scribbled notes at full speed, determined not to miss anything. She already felt the pressure. But when she glanced beside her, Robin was slouched back in his chair, arms folded, looking entirely unbothered.
Figures. She pressed her lips together and kept writing.
Eventually, the meeting wound down. Chairs shifted again, conversations bubbled up. Lyra closed her notebook with a quiet sigh, already picturing the endless emails and calls she'd have to make.
Just as she stood—
"Hope you don't forget to send that sponsor list regularly," Robin said beside her, his tone dry. "Would be a shame if our social media hyped up a sponsor who bailed last minute."
Lyra stiffened, turning slowly to glare at him. "I'm always on time."
Robin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, really? Guess we'll see."
She exhaled sharply. It was going to be a long festival season.
--------
Lyra walked out of the meeting room, letting out a quiet huff. It just felt unfair—why did she have to work with someone like Robin? Especially after that sarcastic comment.
Meanwhile, Robin seemed completely unfazed, strolling leisurely behind her with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, as if he was enjoying her growing irritation.
Up ahead, her friends—Suzie, Arlo, and Walter were already waiting.
"Hey! That meeting took forever," Walter grumbled, crossing his arms. "We're about to starve over here."
"Relax, man," Arlo said casually. "So, how was the meeting? You look pissed."
Lyra sighed. "It's nothing. I just have to work with this annoying guy."
Suzie raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Right then, Robin walked out of the room, brushing past them without a word.
Suzie instinctively glanced his way, her brow furrowing. "Oh? Who's that?"
Lyra shot a glance at Robin, then back at Suzie. "A new guy. Really annoying."
Suzie frowned, her gaze following his casual departure. "What's his major?" she asked softly. "His face looks... arrogant."
"Let me guess," Arlo chimed in with a small laugh, "you felt annoyed the second you saw him?"
Suzie shrugged. "Yeah, seems like it..."
Robin briefly glanced in their direction but didn't react.
"Alright, enough of this. Let's get lunch," Arlo said, giving Lyra a playful pat on the shoulder. "You need some fuel to deal with that annoying guy."
Lyra sighed again before following her friends toward the cafeteria. Robin paused for a moment, looked their way, then kept walking without saying a word.
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*** TO BE CONTINUE ***