Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the faculty door like it might explode. She lifted a fist to knock—and missed the door completely, lightly punching the wall.
"Cool," she whispered. "Very smooth."
Then, a voice from inside: "Come in."
She swallowed dryly.
The door creaked open.
Professor Carter sat at his desk, sleeves rolled, pen in hand, glasses on now—why was he even hotter like this? She smiled automatically, the kind you give when you're trying not to throw up in fear.
"Professor Carter," she greeted, her voice slightly higher than usual.
He looked at her for a beat too long before gesturing to the chair across from him. "Have a seat, Miss Turner."
Nia sat like she was being interviewed by the CIA.
"I just wanted to talk," he said, setting his pen down. "About your attendance. Or lack of it."
"Oh," Nia blinked. "Right. That."
Carter tilted his head. "You've missed more than half the lectures this term. You know that affects your internal marks."
"I do," she nodded, too fast. "I completely do. It's just—I've had a lot going on. Personal stuff. Life. Stress. The usual tragic spiral."
His brows lifted slightly, but his expression stayed unreadable. "You're still expected to attend. I don't want to see you lose marks over something avoidable."
Nia blinked again. Is he being nice? Is that allowed?
She forced a polite smile. "Yes. I understand. Thank you."
Carter leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "That's all I wanted to say."
"Okay," she chirped, standing up so fast her chair screeched.
"Miss Turner."
Dhe paused, halfway to the door.
"You really avoided two whole weeks of lectures… because of me?"
Nia turned around, laughing too loud. "Pfft. What? No. Of course not. That would be absurd. Completely unprofessional. Totally dramatic."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Mm."
"I was just… busy."
"Busy in Badminton club."
Nia's mouth opened. "How do you I am in badminton—"
"I read the club emails," he said simply.
She stared at him.
"I work here," he added, as if that explained everything.
Nia folded her arms. "Okay, fine. Maybe I panicked a little after that, you know, blind date thing. But can you blame me? That was—chaotic."
"It was also mildly entertaining."
"Glad I could provide content."
For the first time, a hint of a smile curved at his lips. "Just come to class, Nia."
She blinked at the use of her name. No 'Miss Turner' this time.
A beat of silence passed.
She opened the door and stepped out quickly, but before it closed, she heard him say—
She slammed the door shut, turned around, and muttered, "This man is going to ruin me."
The corridor was unusually crowded for a weekday morning. Amara weaved her way through groups of students chatting outside the seminar rooms, clutching a thick file of printouts to her chest. Her headphones hung loose around her neck, music paused after a call from Nia, who had just promised to save her a seat in the café.
She turned the corner near the department staircase—and nearly collided into someone coming down.
Amara jolted back slightly, mumbling a quick, "Sorry!"
The person stopped briefly, stepping aside with a calm nod.
Her breath caught when she realized who it was.
Kieran.
Dressed in a black hoodie with the hood half-pulled over his hair, he looked casual, almost effortlessly so. The light caught the edge of his profile—sharp jaw, the same expressionless eyes from yesterday. He didn't stop. Didn't even blink at her.
He just kept walking.
Straight past her.
Like she was no one.
Amara turned her head slightly, watching as he disappeared into the crowd ahead. No hesitation. No recognition. No trace of the boy who had stood across from her on the court, teasing, smirking, locking eyes like he could read her every move.
Her grip on her file tightened. Did he seriously just walk past me like that? she thought, bewildered.
She wasn't expecting a whole conversation—but not even a nod? Not a glance?
Her steps faltered as she moved on, her heart giving a small, confused stutter. The memory of their game flashed in her mind. The brief tension. His eyes on her. The way he'd challenged her, not with words, but with quiet intensity.
"Is he angry because he lost?" the thought crept in quietly, uninvited.
She hated that it even mattered. Hated that she was still thinking about it.
By the time she reached the café, Nia was already waving from a corner booth, a steaming mug in front of her.
"You look like you saw a ghost," Nia said, raising an eyebrow as Amara slid into the seat.
"Not a ghost," Amara muttered, staring blankly at the menu. "Just someone who... decided I don't exist anymore."
Nia leaned forward, instantly intrigued. "Okay, hold on. Who?"
Amara didn't answer right away.
Because she wasn't sure what she'd even say.
The café was buzzing, the scent of espresso and baked goods weaving through soft chatter and clinking cups. Amara stirred her iced coffee absently, nodding along to Nia's story about her horrible lab partner.
"…and then she dropped my model — on purpose, I swear. Like who even does that?" Nia huffed, taking a dramatic sip of her matcha.
Amara chuckled, but her eyes flickered toward the entrance when the door chimed.
Her heart sank.
Max and Daniel had just walked in.
Max spotted them almost immediately and waved. Daniel followed, flashing a half-grin as they made their way over.
Amara barely had time to react before they were at their table.
"Hey," Max said casually, placing his tray down. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Amara offered a polite smile. "Yeah, spontaneous plan."
She turned to Nia. "This is Max — he's the president of the photography club."
Nia gave a friendly wave. "Oh, nice to meet you!"
Max smiled politely. "You should stop by sometime to our photography club."
"And I'm Daniel," the other guy cut in smoothly, giving Nia a more direct look. "I think we've met before? Somewhere near the admin block?"
Nia blinked, trying to place him. "Oh! Maybe during orientation?"
Daniel nodded. "Thought so. Good memory."
Amara's hands tightened slightly around her cup. Her pulse had spiked the moment Max sat down. She hadn't told Nia a single thing about the fake relationship with Kieran.
But Max didn't mention it.
Instead, he talked about the upcoming club showcase. "We've got a theme this time — contrast. Urban versus nature. Should be interesting."
Nia perked up. "That sounds fun! I actually take a lot of plant photos. Maybe I should submit something."
"You should," Max said with a nod.
Daniel glanced between them. "Do all clubs get a booth this semester?"
"Most of them," Amara answered quickly, relieved to be steering the conversation somewhere safe. "I think the drama club is doing a street performance this time."
The four of them chatted a while longer — mostly about club events, random campus stories, and how bad the cafeteria food had been last week.
Eventually, Max checked his watch. "We should get going. Got a meeting with Professor Allen."
"See you around," Daniel said, tossing a casual nod to the table — and a slightly longer glance toward Nia.
They left as quickly as they had arrived.
Amara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Nia raised a brow. "You okay? You looked like you were ready to leap out the window."
Amara forced a laugh. "Just… tired. Thought we'd have a quiet coffee."