A Love Meant To Be

Chapter 2

The room was frozen in time.

The usual hum of chatter was gone. Silence filled the club meeting room—thick and waiting. Only the core members were present, sitting in their usual spots around the long table. No one moved. No one spoke.

Professor Langston’s voice still echoed faintly in the corners. “Ryan Reynolds will be leading this year’s Spring Literature Festival.”

Raya’s fingers curled lightly around the edge of her notebook. She blinked, slowly. Then she laughed—soft, unsure.

“What do you mean he’s going to be the leader?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried weight, like a question wrapped in disbelief.

A few heads turned toward her, wary. Tessa stood beside her like a loyal knight, arms crossed, brows raised.

Raya stood up.

“No, seriously,” she said, more to the room than anyone in particular. “What do you think I’ve been doing all semester? All year, for that matter? Planning, pitching ideas, staying late for meetings, running half the events—was that just to be a background prop in someone else’s show?”

She wasn't yelling. But her voice had that razor-thin edge of someone just on the cusp of breaking—but holding herself together with poise and practiced grace.

“I mean, I thought this was a no-brainer,” she continued, forcing a small smile. “Not to sound cocky, but... if dedication, work, and creativity count for anything, I think I’ve earned it.”

One of the committee members—a junior named Caleb—shifted awkwardly. “Raya... it's not about you not being good enough. It’s just—Ryan’s a senior. The faculty probably thought he had more... experience?”

Raya scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “Experience? With what? Avoiding meetings and quoting dead philosophers in group chats?”

A few people stifled a laugh. Tessa, unfazed, leaned closer and whispered, “Say the word and I’ll flip a chair. Just pick one.”

Raya smiled faintly but didn’t lose focus.

“I’m sorry,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “But I don’t agree with this decision. Not because I don’t respect the guy—I mean, barely know him—but because this feels unfair. I’ve been here. Present. And I care about this club.”

Tessa nodded in support. “She’s right.”

Professor Langston gave a kind but non-negotiable smile. “Raya, I understand how you feel. And your work hasn’t gone unnoticed. But this is a joint decision between the faculty and the club committee. Ryan will be leading, and I hope you’ll support him as part of the team.”

Team. The word sat heavy in her stomach.

Raya didn’t respond right away. She looked down at her notebook, a half-sketched poster design staring back at her like some kind of joke.

Then, finally, she exhaled through her nose and looked up, chin raised.

“Well,” she said softly. “If I’m going to be a part of the team... I’ll make sure it’s unforgettable.”

The campus glowed under the soft haze of street lamps and moonlight, their pale golden pools casting long, gentle shadows across the winding paths. A cool spring breeze stirred the cherry blossoms overhead, scattering delicate pink petals like confetti onto the empty benches and cobblestone walkways. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass mixed with the distant hum of late-night studying and muffled laughter from dorm windows.

Despite the serene beauty, an undercurrent of quiet frustration hung in the air, barely noticeable but palpable among the scattered groups of students. The tension of the weight of expectations clung to the night like dew, as restless minds wrestled with last-minute uncertain outcomes and the air laced with spring chill and quiet frustration.

Raya walked beside Tessa in silence, her boots crunching against scattered petals. Her notebook was clutched to her chest like armor. It was rare for her to be this quiet, who loves the most in the world is probably talking.

Tessa cast a sideways glance. “You wanna scream? I’ll scream with you. Cathartic release and all that.”

Raya didn’t laugh, but her lips curved slightly. “Tempting. Might even throw in interpretive dance.”

Tessa bumped her shoulder playfully. “Hey. You okay?”

Raya stopped walking. She tilted her head up to the sky, eyes tracing stars that refused to blink back.

“I’m not angry,” she said finally. “Not really. I just—” She paused, pressing her lips together. “I wanted this. Badly. Not just for the title. I saw it. Planned it. Breathed it.”

“You deserved it,” Tessa said, no hesitation.

Tessa had always been the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in a book before she even opened one. With messy curls tied up in a half-hearted bun, oversized hoodies with ink stains on the sleeves, and a pencil always tucked behind one ear, she moved through campus like a walking draft—half present, half in her own world.

She had opinions about everything, wrote poems no one was allowed to read, and somehow still managed to keep everyone hooked when she opened her mouth.

Raya gave a soft, bitter laugh. “And now it’s going to some guy who treats the club like a casual hobby.”

“Well... he is Ryan Reynolds,” Tessa muttered. “Campus legend. Mysterious genius. Broody golden boy.”

“Yeah,” Raya snorted. “He’s a walking literary trope. All he’s missing is a tragic backstory and a forest cottage.”

“Honestly? He probably has both.”

They both giggled, and just like that, the tension loosened.

But fate, as always, had a flair for timing.

As they rounded the corner toward the central quad, someone stepped out of the Humanities building, phone in hand, coat casually slung over one shoulder like a model who didn’t know he was posing.

Raya slowed. Tessa narrowed her eyes.

“Speak of the broody devil,” she muttered under her breath.

Ryan Reynolds didn’t notice them at first. He walked with that effortless calm, the kind that looked choreographed. Like he knew the moonlight was hitting him at just the right angle.

Then his eyes lifted.

And met Raya’s.

He stopped.

So did she.

For a heartbeat, silence draped over them like a velvet curtain. Then Ryan tucked his phone away and approached with his signature half-smirk. Calm. Collected. Irritatingly perfect.

“I suppose I should say hello,” he said, voice smooth like pages turning. “Since we’ll be working together.”

Raya blinked. “Oh. You’re aware of that.”

Tessa snorted, muffling it with a cough.

Ryan raised a brow. “I am.”

A pause.

“You don’t seem thrilled,” he added.

Raya tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Well, I was expecting someone else to be announced as leader tonight.”

“Ah.” His gaze didn’t waver. “I assume you mean you.”

Raya smiled—sweet and sharp all at once. “I don’t assume. I calculate.”

Ryan didn’t smile back. But something flickered in his eyes—interest? amusement? challenge?

“Well,” he said, “then I hope I don’t disappoint your calculations.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Raya replied, voice sugar-dipped. “I plan to make sure this festival is a success… no matter who’s wearing the badge.”

And with that, she turned to Tessa, looped her arm through hers, and walked away—her boots echoing like punctuation marks against the stone path.

Ryan watched her go.

For the first time in a long while, he smiled.

Not his usual smirk.

But a real one.