A Love Meant To Be

Chapter 17

Sunlight spilled lazily through the dorm window, casting gold streaks across the cluttered floor—half-packed bags, tangled charger cords, a leaning tower of empty coffee cups from the past week’s festival grind. The soft hum of campus life stirred faintly in the distance: birds chirping, doors creaking open, a faint murmur of students heading to their early classes.

Inside, the chaos was concentrated.

“MOVE, we’re gonna be late!” Tessa shrieked, hopping on one foot as she tried to wrangle her mismatched socks onto equally chaotic feet. Her tote bag exploded open on the bed, spilling notebooks, highlighters, a suspiciously melted granola bar, and her sanity.

Raya stood by the mirror, brushing her hair into a ponytail with slow, almost mechanical motions. There was a dullness around her eyes—less like tiredness, more like she was running on her final drop of caffeine and pride.

“I’m moving,” she mumbled, voice flat, as she secured her hair with a loose tie that barely held.

Tessa froze mid-sock. “Whoa, did a ghost possess you last night or is this your zombie arc?”

“I didn’t get much sleep, okay?” Raya said, reaching for her file, though her hand hovered like her brain had to remind her what to do next.

Tessa flopped onto the bed, finally managing to get both socks on, and grinned. “You didn’t get sleep because you were passed out like a tragic heroine beside Ryan in the seminar room.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh no, of course not. You just accidentally fell asleep beside the brooding boy with the jawline sharp enough to slice glass. Totally normal.”

Raya rolled her eyes. “We were exhausted. We worked all day. It was either sleep or collapse.”

“You collapsed next to Ryan. Which makes it scandalous and suspiciously adorable.”

“I swear to god, Tess.”

Tessa zipped her hoodie and slung her tote over one shoulder like a warrior heading to battle. “Look, I’m not judging. In fact, I’m supportive. I already named your future wedding playlist.”

Raya gave her a side glance, one brow twitching. “Please tell me ‘Seminar Room Slow Burn’ is not on it.”

“Track number three.”

Raya sighed and bent to pick up her notebook, but winced slightly as she stood. Tessa noticed the falter, the small stiffness in her movement.

“You good?” Tessa asked again, gentler this time.

“I’m fine,” Raya said quickly. “Just... festival fatigue. Happens to the best of us.”

Tessa didn’t buy it, but time wasn’t on their side. A quick glance at the clock made her gasp. “Crap, we’re actually late. Like his-eyebrows-will-disappear-into-his-scalp late.”

“Then stop monologuing about my fake love life and run!”

“Hey! It’s not fake if it’s manifested.” Tessa laughed, bolting toward the door.

They sprinted down the hallway, bags bouncing, their footsteps thudding against the polished floor. The morning light sliced through the long dorm corridor, warm but stark, almost blinding. As they dashed down the stairs, Raya’s breath hitched for a moment—not out of panic, but fatigue settling deep in her bones.

She didn’t say anything.

Tessa didn’t push.

But something—something was definitely off.

The lecture had all the energy of a half-asleep goldfish. Even the professor droned on as if he were one breath away from snoring. Raya sat sandwiched between Tessa and Hana, notebook open but mostly blank. Her pen hovered over the page, her focus floating elsewhere.

Hana leaned in, whispering, “You two look like you survived a tornado. What happened to you guys yesterday?”

Tessa’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, you haven’t heard the saga of Raya and the Sleeping Captain?”

Hana raised a brow. “I’m listening.”

Tessa grinned. “Picture this: dark, quiet seminar room. Everyone’s gone home. But not our dear Raya. No. She’s out here burning the midnight oil. And guess who strolls in like a rom-com lead in a sleepy cardigan?”

Hana blinked. “Ryan?”

Tessa gasped dramatically. “Ding-ding-dong! You win a metaphorical espresso. So there they were—alone. Studying, talking, slowly drifting off. Until—bam! Morning. Found them both curled up like tragic lovers in a Shakespeare play.”

Hana covered her mouth, suppressing a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

Raya groaned. “She’s exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Tessa smirked. “Because from what I saw, there were shared jackets. Mutual leaning. I mean, if I’d brought popcorn, I’d have stayed for the ending.”

Hana giggled. “You two are giving slow-burn drama.”

“We’re giving two sleep-deprived students accidentally passing out,” Raya muttered.

“Romantically,” Tessa added with a wink.

“Tragically,” Raya corrected.

“Tragically romantic,” Hana chimed in.

Raya buried her face in her hands. “I should’ve just slept on the floor.”

“You did,” Tessa deadpanned. “Next to a guy who looked like he would fight the world for you if someone even whispered too loud.”

Hana tilted her head. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

Raya peeked between her fingers. “This conversation never happened.”

“Oh, it definitely happened. And I’m documenting it for future wedding speeches,” Tessa whispered.

The three of them laughed—until Tessa noticed how pale Raya still looked.

“Okay but jokes aside,” she said more quietly, “you’re seriously off today. Are you sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” Raya said again, pushing a hand through her hair. “Just tired.”

But halfway through the lecture, Raya’s pen slipped from her hand. Her head tilted slightly like gravity had suddenly gotten heavier. Tessa reached out instantly, steadying her.

The moment the lecture ended, the three of them spilled out into the sunlit courtyard.

“Café run?” Tessa offered, stretching her arms toward the sky. “I need a chocolate frappe and an emotional reset.”

“I’m in,” Hana said.

Raya nodded slowly, trailing a step behind.

“You sure?” Tessa asked. “You look like you need a bed, not caffeine.”

“I’ll be fine. I just—”

And then her knees buckled.

Tessa screamed. “Raya!”

She lunged, catching her friend as she collapsed. Hana was instantly beside her, pulling out her phone. A few passing students rushed toward them, one of them already calling for help.

Raya’s eyes fluttered, her lips barely moving. “I’m okay…”

“No, you’re not,” Tessa whispered, brushing hair from her friend’s clammy forehead. “Just hang on.”

The clinic smelled faintly of disinfectant and something citrusy. Raya lay under a light blanket, pale and motionless but breathing evenly. A small monitor beeped steadily beside her.

Tessa sat on a stool by the bed, one hand on Raya’s, her other fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. Hana stood near the door, arms folded, watching quietly.

The campus doctor closed her clipboard with a sigh. “She fainted from exhaustion and low blood sugar.”

Tessa sighed. “She’s been overworking herself. Festival prep, back-to-back deadlines. She barely ate properly these past few days.”

“Given what your friend told me about recent stress, overwork, and inconsistent meals, this isn’t surprising,” the doctor said.“You need rest, proper meals, and some distance from stress. Burnout is real. When your body starts waving red flags, don’t ignore them.”

Raya murmured, “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“You never do,” the doctor said gently. “Until it does.”

“She’s been running on empty,” Tessa muttered. “She wouldn’t stop. Said she was fine.”

“She’s not the only one who says that when they’re not,” the doctor replied gently. “But her body forced a pause. Burnout isn’t just a feeling—it’s a full-system shutdown when you ignore the warnings.”

Raya stirred slightly. “I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Tessa said, squeezing her hand. “You need to rest. That’s all.”

Hana glanced at her phone. Her fingers moved quickly, typing out a message before quietly locking the screen.

Tessa didn’t notice.

But Raya—despite the fog in her mind—did.

Her eyes fluttered closed again, but her mind didn’t.

Outside, the sun had dipped lower, casting amber light through the windows. Footsteps passed the clinic door now and then—students returning to normal rhythms.

But inside, the air felt still.

Unspoken things hung in that silence.

Ten minutes earlier, Hana’s message had gone out, quiet and sharp:

“She fainted. You should come.”

To whom, neither Tessa nor Raya knew.

But soon… someone would answer.