A Love Meant To Be

Chapter 15

The Festival Day

The morning sun peeked through the soft veil of clouds, casting a gentle golden hue over the university campus. The entire grounds buzzed with excitement, color, and sound—today was the festival. Students rushed in and out of the auditorium, carrying props, decorations, refreshments, and papers, their voices overlapping with laughter and last-minute panic.

Raya arrived early, her tote bag packed with everything they might possibly need. The moment she stepped onto the festival grounds, her senses were bombarded by the smell of food stalls being set up, faint mic checks echoing through the main stage, and students dressed in vibrant traditional attire. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach—not of fear, but of anticipation.

By 8 a.m., the venue was alive with last-minute hustle. Ladders creaked. Zip ties snapped tight. Banners rippled in the soft breeze. The scent of fresh flowers from the entrance arch mingled with coffee, excitement, and just a hint of nervous sweat.

Their team had already started gathering near the stage. Tessa was checking the registration table. Hana was busy adjusting the main banner. Eli ran back and forth, relaying messages.

Ryan, however, was everywhere.

He had arrived before them all, ensuring the sound system was in order, guiding the logistics volunteers on how to manage crowd flow, and talking calmly with the teachers inspecting the setup. His voice rang through the walkie-talkies. Calm. Efficient. In control.

“Ryan’s already spoken to the tech team,” Eli said, panting. “They had a speaker glitch, and he literally fixed the cable himself.”

“Of course he did,” Raya muttered, smiling faintly as she watched Ryan kneel near the back of the stage, adjusting a connection.

Hana nudged her, “You keep staring at him like he’s the festival himself.”

Raya rolled her eyes. “He’s just doing what a good captain does.”

Tessa added, “Yeah, being annoyingly perfect.”

As they continued organizing, Raya’s gaze landed on Lin, who was unusually composed today. No snide remarks. No eye rolls. Just quiet, distant smiles.

“Is it just me or is Lin… calm?” Hana asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Too calm,” Eli said. “She’s either had an existential awakening or she’s plotting something.”

Raya bit her lip. “I don’t like it.”

Tessa nodded. “Me neither. That smile is suspicious.”

By ten, the guests started arriving. Professors. Alumni. A few local writers and artists from the community. Professor Langston beamed as he shook hands and offered proud introductions. Booths stood gleaming in the sun — colorful, creative, labeled with hand-painted signs and dotted with fresh flowers.

Volunteers in crisp white shirts guided visitors with friendly smiles. The buzz of excitement had settled into a rhythmic beat. Everything was falling into place.

The festival officially kicked off at 11 a.m., and the first performance—a traditional dance—began.

From that moment, the entire event moved like a symphony.

Performances rolled one after another. Cheers erupted. Teachers smiled. Guests took photos. Behind the curtains, however, the team was sprinting, whispering, sweating, and fixing things before they could break.

The spoken word poetry duet lit up the crowd. The second act—a monologue piece written and directed by Tessa—received a roaring round of applause. By the time a jazz rendition of a classic poem echoed through the venue, the audience was completely immersed.

Raya moved from one station to another, ensuring everything was in sync — the lights, the cue cards, the transitions. Every now and then, she caught Lin lingering in the shadows. Not helping. Just… watching.

Then she saw it.

Lin was near the tech booth, casually brushing past the equipment table. Her hand lingered near the laptop for a second too long. She walked away quickly, slipping her phone into her pocket.

“Did she just—” Tessa started, stopping midway.

“No proof,” Eli whispered, following her line of sight. “But yeah, I saw that too.”

Then it happened.

During the buildup to the fourth performance—a dramatic stage play led by Hana and a few second-years—one of the sound cues didn’t play. The spotlight dimmed too early. The entrance curtains jammed halfway.

Raya was already running.

Ryan was in the tech booth, his jaw tight, hands flying across the manual console.

“Someone tampered with the cue set,” he said quickly. “Files are rearranged. It’s not a glitch.”

Eli cursed under his breath, grabbing the backup flash drive. “Give me thirty seconds.”

Tessa looked pale. “That performance needs the full lighting or the ending won’t land.”

Raya didn’t wait. “Switch to the emergency cue folder. Ryan, override manually. Eli, narrate the intro live—give the actors five seconds to prep backstage.”

They moved like a machine.

Ten seconds later, the lights flared in just the right way, and Hana stepped onto stage, her expression fierce. The play began—smooth, strong, brilliant.

Crisis averted.

From the corner of her eye, Raya saw Lin again. She was standing near the literature booth, her bottle of water clutched tightly. Her fingers curled slightly, knuckles pale.

She’s mad it didn’t work. She’s confused why it didn’t work.

Raya turned away and smiled to herself.

The rest of the festival flowed like poetry.

Professors gave interviews. Students explored booths. Some sat and painted bookmarks at the art station; others scribbled poems on the public wall titled “Write Me A Feeling.”

At the literature booth, Ryan hosted a quiz game that had everyone cheering. Hana helped with the kids’ reading section. Eli rapped an impromptu poem and got more claps than half the scheduled acts.

Raya drifted from moment to moment, never fully still, but not frantic.

Ryan found her near the poetry corner as the sun was dipping. “You okay?” he asked again.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

He studied her. “No sabotage, no disasters, and the guests are happy. You saved it all.”

She glanced across the venue—vibrant, alive, glowing with effort and joy. “We saved it.”

“You can take a bow, you know.”

Raya smirked. “I’ll wait till everyone’s gone. Just to be safe.”

Ryan chuckled. Then, a pause. “Hey… Lin’s been quiet.”

“Too quiet,” Raya murmured, but her voice held no fear. Just awareness. “Let her watch. I hope it stings.”

Hours later, the sun began to set. The festival was officially over.

Cheers erupted during the closing ceremony. Everyone clapped. Teachers praised the organizers. The emcees thanked the audience, and finally, the crowd began to disperse.

The team gathered near the green room, slumping onto chairs, floor cushions, and any surface that could support their tired limbs.

“Finally,” Hana groaned, “I can feel my soul again.”

“We did it,” Tessa beamed.

“Barely,” Eli muttered, “but yes, we did.”

Ryan was silent, sipping water, his eyes scanning the emptying hall.

“You can relax now, Captain,” Raya said with a smile.

He gave a small nod. “You all did amazing.”

“And you?” Hana raised an eyebrow. “You were literally the puppet master backstage.”

“I was just… keeping things moving,” he said with a casual shrug.

“You’re allowed to take the credit,” Tessa laughed.

“I’ll take food instead,” Ryan replied dryly.

And just like that, dinner was decided.

They headed to the cafeteria again, just like the night before—laughing, joking, teasing each other about forgotten lines and hilarious backstage moments.

It was a calm, joyful moment of shared victory. Plates were stacked, snacks passed around, cold drinks opened. Everyone was chatting about which performance they loved most.

Tessa pulled out her notebook halfway through the meal, leaning over to scribble something.

“You writing again?” Eli asked.

She grinned. “Just noting down moments. For memory’s sake.”

That’s when Lin passed by.

She was alone, carrying a tray. Her eyes briefly met theirs. Tessa gave her a small polite nod, which Lin returned with the thinnest of smiles before choosing a far-off corner table.

A silence fell over the group.

“I don’t like her energy,” Hana said, setting her drink down.

“She gives… reptile vibes,” Eli muttered.

“Calculated,” Tessa added.

“Cold,” Raya agreed. “And yet she always knows how to show the exact emotion she wants people to see.”

Ryan didn’t speak, just observed quietly.

“She wanted today to fail,” Hana said.

“But it didn’t,” Raya said firmly, catching Ryan’s eye.

“And it won’t,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.

For a moment, they all simply sat together—tired but content, united, and more aware than ever of who was with them… and who was not.