After a class that seemed endless, Lyra finally caught a breath and switched gears. By early afternoon, she was nestled with her division in a quiet corner of the campus café. Laptops lay open, papers scattered — clear signs they'd been at it for hours.
Across from her, Adam, dressed casually in a half-zipped jacket, just set his phone down, a mild triumph in his eyes.
"Good news," he said, jotting notes. "A few vendors got back to us. They're interested, but we'll need to follow up."
Mei leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the cluttered table. "Food and sound system—those calls can go out today. But the main sponsor? We'll need PR on that."
Adam nodded. "And once we have more details, we'll have to loop Robin in too."
Lyra nearly choked on her drink, glaring at Adam. "Why me?"
"Who else?" Mei teased, nudging her. "You two seem tight. Easier if you handle it."
Lyra raised a brow. "Since when are we close?"
Mei smirked. "Since that first meeting, when you two showed up together like it was no big deal."
Lyra sighed, setting down her drink with a soft thud. "Still running with that theory?"
Mei shrugged. "Look, if you work well together, why complicate things?"
Instead of arguing, Lyra dropped her gaze to the proposal in front of her. "Fine. I'll message him later," she muttered, clearly unenthusiastic.
Mei looked pleased. Adam just shook his head, amused. "Alright, let's lock down the other vendors first before we tackle Robin," he said, steering the group back on track.
Lyra said nothing. She only hoped that talking to Robin wouldn't be the cherry on top of an already chaotic day.
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After working up some courage, Lyra unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed a message… then deleted it.
Maybe I should just call. It'll be quicker.But what if I'm bothering him?
She went back and forth, caught between hesitation and indecision. Her tired eyes flicked to the time glowing on her screen.
Almost late afternoon… his class should be over by now, right?
Without giving herself another second to overthink, she hit the call button.
One ring. Two. Just the dial tone humming in her ear.
Then, finally, a familiar voice answered—low and unmistakably casual. "Hello?"
Lyra swallowed hard. "Robin. Hey, it's Lyra."
"…Wow. Didn't see that coming. Where'd you get my number?"
Seriously? He hadn't even finished the first sentence and was already irritating her.
"In case you forgot," she said coolly, "everyone's number is on the internal contact list."
"Right… fair point. So, what's up?"
She cleared her throat. "It's about the vendor stuff. A few responded, and we need to follow up. Mei told me to reach out once we had updates."
A beat of silence.
"And?" Robin prompted.
Lyra blinked. "So… I'm calling you."
Robin let out a short laugh. "You sound like someone being forced into it."
"I'm not being forced," she said—too fast to sound convincing.
"Uh-huh. Definitely doesn't sound like you had a choice."
She exhaled through her nose, ignoring the remark. "Anyway. Can we go over it? When are you free?"
A pause.
"Honestly," Robin said, "rather than dragging this out with texts or calls, let's just meet. It'll be easier."
Lyra frowned. "Meet?"
"Yeah. We can look at everything together. Saves time."
She bit her lip. She hadn't expected that, but… he had a point.
"…Fine. When?"
"You still on campus?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Me too." His voice shifted like he was stretching. "Where exactly?"
Lyra glanced around. "Campus café."
"Alright. Stay there. I'll be there in ten minutes."
Before she could respond, the call ended.
She stared at her phone, a frown tugging at her brow. "Some things never change," she muttered.
Now, all she could do was wait.
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Robin strolled into the café, his messenger bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. His gaze swept the room once before landing on her—a girl with long dark hair tucked into the corner, laptop open, papers strewn around her like she'd been camped there for hours.
"Hey," he greeted, casual as always.
Lyra looked up and gave a short nod. "Uh, hi."
Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, leaning back like he owned the space. "So, what are we looking at?"
Lyra didn't bother with small talk. She dove right in. "Some of the vendors got back to us. A few are interested, but we'll need to follow up. They're asking for clarification—requirements, logistics, the usual."
Robin nodded, folding his arms as he listened. "Which vendors?"
"Foods, sound system, and the main sponsor," she said, scanning her notes. "We can lock in Foods and sound today. The sponsor's a little more complicated—we'll need PR involved."
Robin leaned back, thinking it through. "Sponsor probably wants maximum exposure. PR can handle part of it, but we also need to make sure the festival doesn't turn into one giant ad."
"Exactly. And the publicity side... that's your area, right?"
"Yeah." He sat up slightly. "I'll take care of the social media side. Maybe work in a few promo clips, spotlight posts. If they're asking for more brand placement, we can negotiate terms."
Lyra nodded, tapping away on her keyboard. "Alright. I'll reach out to the vendors, confirm foods and sound today."
"Cool. I'll talk to the design team about the flyers and banners. And I'll get PR to send over whatever exposure guarantees they already made, so we're not promising more than we can deliver."
She glanced up. "So you're handling all the sponsor visibility?"
"Pretty much," he replied. "Banner, flyers, online promos—the works. If they want to be in the video teaser too, we'll slot them in. Subtly, though. No one likes a hard sell."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Right. Got it."
Robin raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "See? We actually make a decent team."
Lyra rolled her eyes, more amused than annoyed. "Don't get cocky."
He chuckled, unfazed. She turned back to her notes, pretending to focus—though she couldn't ignore the strange sense of ease that had settled between them.
Despite everything, this was going smoother than she'd expected. Maybe too smooth.
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The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the campus sports field, bouncing off the cheer squad's uniforms as Suzie and her teammates powered through their routine. Practice had been going for nearly an hour—sweat shimmered on their foreheads, but their energy hadn't dipped.
In the center of the field, Suzie stood tall as the flyer—the one lifted into the air during stunts. On the coach's cue, two bases hoisted her up with practiced ease. In one fluid motion, she extended her arms, struck a perfect pose, and flashed a bright smile before landing cleanly back on the ground.
Off to the side, Walter watched, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. Every now and then, he clapped or gave a low whistle when Suzie nailed a tough move. Other people were watching too, but his focus never wavered. His eyes were locked on just one person—his girlfriend.
A few more reps passed, and then the coach called for a break. Suzie wiped her brow with a towel and jogged over to Walter, her face lighting up.
"So?" she asked, fanning herself with her hands. "Pretty cool, right?"
Walter smiled, gaze soft. "Amazing. I could watch you do this all day."
Suzie laughed, but her brows pinched just a little. "Wait… you're not just here to watch me, are you?"
Walter chuckled, used to her playful jealousy by now. "You told me to come see you practice," he said, raising an eyebrow.
She puffed her cheeks in mock irritation. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean you get to look at anyone else!"
That got a louder laugh out of him. He raised a hand like he was taking an oath. "Scout's honor. Eyes only for you."
Before she could throw back another tease, a new voice chimed in. "Well, well… if it isn't campus royalty."
Suzie turned, beaming. "Arlo! You came too?"
He shrugged. "Walter dragged me here. Figured I'd watch you flip through the air instead of dying of boredom," he said, grinning as Suzie shot him a playful glare.
"Wait… Lyra's not with you?" she asked, just now realizing the absence.
Arlo sighed and shook his head. "Nope. She's been swamped. The campus festival's coming up, and she's on the student committee now. Lots of chaos."
Suzie nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah… that checks out. Poor girl's probably buried in work."
She wiped her face one more time, then smiled. "Alright—just give me a minute to change and pack up, then we can go."
Walter and Arlo nodded, content to wait.
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Night had settled over the city. In her small apartment, Lyra sat at her desk, laptop open, the glow casting soft shadows across her focused face. Notes were scattered beside her, some scribbled on, others covered in bright highlights.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pausing every so often to reread a sentence before typing again. Multiple windows cluttered her screen—a progress report, a budget spreadsheet, and a message thread with Robin about the new print vendor designs.
Ding! A notification popped up.
Just sent the draft to the group. Take a look and let me know if anything needs changing.
Robin.
Lyra let out a quiet sigh, clicked the file, and scanned the layout, eyes narrowing slightly.
Okay, I'll check it now, she replied.
She went back to work, time slipping by until a sharp pang in her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since noon. Pressing a hand to her abdomen, she winced. Only then did she realize how long she'd been sitting.
With a reluctant groan, she stood and shuffled to the tiny kitchen tucked in the corner. She opened the freezer, pulled out a box of ready-made food, and slid it into the microwave without a second thought.
The beep of the buttons was followed by the low hum of the machine.
While it warmed, Lyra leaned against the counter and picked up her phone, thumb scrolling through social media out of habit. Her eyes flicked across the feed, barely absorbing anything—until something stopped her cold.
Anew photo just uploaded.
In it, Suzie stood on the campus field, still in her cheer uniform, grinning wide. Walter was next to her, his arm draped casually around her waist, smiling like he was exactly where he wanted to be. Arlo and a few teammates were laughing in the background.
The caption read:
"Such an amazing practice today! Thanks for coming to watch, Walter ❤️ And of course, shoutout to the best team ever!"
Lyra's thumb hovered over the screen. Her chest tightened before she could stop it.
She swallowed hard, trying to shove the feeling down. Suzie hadn't done anything wrong. Neither had Walter. It was just… reality. One she needed to face, whether she liked it or not.
With a barely-there smile—thin and practiced—she scrolled past the post like it hadn't touched her at all.
Ding. The microwave chimed, snapping her out of it.
Lyra locked her phone, turned back to the kitchen, and took a deep breath.
Steady now. She kept the emotions at bay, just long enough to smile again.
No one saw. No one knew.
And as always, she kept going—because what else could she do?
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Robin arrived at the open campus plaza where they'd agreed to meet. On a wooden bench near a small garden, Lyra was already seated, a cold drink in one hand and her phone in the other, flipping through notes. The morning sun cast a soft glow over everything, peaceful—though their to-do list was anything but.
A few moments later, Robin strolled over, denim jacket unbuttoned, a slightly wrinkled T-shirt peeking out underneath. He dropped a few books beside him before settling onto the bench.
"Hey," he said casually. "What's on the agenda?"
Lyra glanced up, then opened her notes. "I followed up with the vendors. The souvenir vendor's in, but they still want their logo included in all the promotional materials."
Robin leaned back, nodding. "Alright, I'll make sure the design team adds their logo to the posters and social content."
"I already emailed them the specs. Now it's just about syncing everything," she replied.
Robin pulled out his phone and tapped a quick message. "Cool. I'll add it to the final revisions before we print."
Lyra continued, "Food and beverage vendors confirmed the discounts and bundle deals, but they're asking for a rough headcount."
He rubbed his chin. "We could throw up an RSVP form or maybe a poll on social media. Get a ballpark number."
"I'll handle the form," she said with a nod.
"I'll design the visuals and get them to the media team. Maybe throw in a countdown too, make it feel more exciting," he added, typing as he spoke.
Lyra flipped to another note. "Print vendor says the banner and promo materials are almost done. Just a few tweaks before they go to print."
"I'll review those changes before they finalize. Last thing we need is a typo on a giant banner," Robin muttered.
Lyra let out a quick laugh. "Yeah, that'd be a mess."
"Publicity-wise, we've got a posting schedule set for social. A few clips are ready, but we still need more content."
"Like what, exactly?"
He turned his phone toward her. "Countdown posts, short clips. Maybe a behind-the-scenes mini-video. Something fun but real."
Lyra studied the screen, then nodded. "That could work. I'll ask the committee for some casual footage we can use."
Robin gave a small smile. "Nice. Makes people feel part of it, not just spectators."
She closed her notes and stretched. "So… follow-ups with vendors, finalize the design edits, keep the promo going."
He stood and stretched his arms overhead. "Yup. I'll check in with the media team next. You're still handling the vendor side?"
"Yeah. I've got it."
Robin shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced down at her. "You're more focused than usual. Kind of makes this easier."
Lyra shot him a flat look. "Don't get chatty for no reason."
He laughed. "Alright, alright. See you around."
As he walked off, Lyra exhaled slowly. At least the meeting had gone smoothly. Things were finally starting to take shape. There was still a mountain of work ahead—but one step at a time, they were getting there.
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Campus was getting busy, students weaving through crowds as they rushed to their morning classes. On the eighth floor of the Faculty of Management building, one of the lecture rooms was already buzzing. Some students were chatting in small groups, others scrolling through their phones, while a few were flipping through notes or setting up their laptops.
In the middle row, a young man with slightly messy black hair leaned back in his seat, arms crossed casually. He chatted off and on with the people around him, but his eyes kept drifting toward the door—clearly waiting for someone.
Eventually, the glass door creaked open. A girl in a gray cardigan stepped inside.
"Hey!" the guy called out, waving her over. "Lyra…"
At the sound of her name, she turned, immediately spotting the familiar face. "Walter," she said quietly.
"You're late today. Usually you beat everyone here."
He wasn't wrong. Lyra was normally one of the first to arrive—not because she was the overachieving type who needed to review everything beforehand, but because when she had responsibilities, she made sure they got done. That sense of follow-through often made people think she was a model student. In truth, she just didn't like letting things fall apart.
Still, today she'd barely made it. Just under ten minutes before the class would begin.
She hesitated for a moment, a little surprised that Walter had even noticed. But she quickly masked the flicker of surprise with a shrug and a neutral tone. "Festival prep. Things got a bit hectic," she said, sliding into the seat beside him and pulling out her notebook.
Walter nodded. "Yeah, sounds exhausting. Just thinking about it makes me want to drop out," he joked, leaning back with a groan.
Lyra let out a small breath, eyes fixed on the front of the room. "Yeah... something like that," she murmured, clearly not in the mood to get into it.
Walter studied her for a second. She looked more drained than usual, like the stress was finally catching up to her. He knew her well enough to know she never did anything halfway—but sometimes that meant forgetting to rest.
Before he could say anything else, the door opened again.
A middle-aged man in a gray suit walked in, prompting the chatter around the room to die down almost immediately.
"Good morning," he said, his voice deep and firm.
"Good morning, Professor," a few students echoed automatically.
Professor Graham set his bag down at the front, gave the room a quick once-over, then opened his laptop. "Alright, let's pick up where we left off. Today we're continuing with Strategic Business Analysis," he said, projecting the first slide onto the screen.
Lyra straightened up, quietly pushing aside the fatigue that clung to her like static. She flipped open her notes, pen ready. Beside her, Walter did the same.
For the next hour or so, everything else—the festival, the stress, the questions they weren't asking—would have to wait.
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*** TO BE CONTINUE ***