The hotel suite was dimly lit, the city lights outside casting long, amber shadows across the carpet.
I had kicked off my heels, but the tightness in my chest wouldn't leave.
Saraph was leaning against the vanity, while Ophilia sat on the edge of the other bed, her eyes soft with concern.
Saraph plopped down on the armchair, kicking off her shoes.
She watched me for a long beat, her eyes narrowing in that way that meant she was about to dissect my soul.
"Okay, Nuella," Saraph started, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"I've been watching you all day.
From the bus to the plane to that moment in the lobby.
What am I missing here? Because the way you and Mateo are getting close... it's not just 'teammate' stuff anymore."
I paused, a hairpin halfway out.
"He's been a great support, Saraph. That's all."
"Nuella, please," Saraph snorted.
"The way he looks at you?
It's like you're the only person in the room with the actual data.
He likes you.
And honestly? After what Daniel did, I'm team Mateo all the way.
He's steady. He doesn't need an audience."
I looked down at my hands.
"There's nothing, Saraph. Really. I'm just trying to survive this trip."
"Is there really nothing?" she pressed.
"Or are you just using him as a shield because you're still terrified of how you feel when Daniel walks into the room?"
I didn't answer.
The truth was, every time I saw Daniel looking at me with those wounded eyes, a part of me, the part I tried to keep locked away, wanted to reach out.
But the hurt was still too loud.
"I'm not trying to take sides," Ophilia added gently, leaning forward.
"In as much as I don't want to interfere in your relationship, I feel like you and Daniel built something real.
Long before that video or that night at the club, there was a connection there.
It wasn't just about school or status."
"He hurt me, Ophilia," I whispered.
"He made me feel like I was a toy he was tired of playing with."
"He was an idiot," Ophilia said firmly.
"He let his ego get ahead of his heart because he wanted to look big in front of Mira.
But don't let her, or whatever her name is, ruin what took you guys months to build.
People make massive, stupid mistakes when they're insecure.
It doesn't excuse him, but it explains him."
"I see the way you look at Daniel when he's not looking," Saraph said, her voice softening.
"You still care about him.
You can try to hide it behind Mateo's shoulder, but your eyes don't lie.
You're hurting because you still love him, not just because you're mad at him."
"I don't know if I can trust him again," I admitted, my voice trembling.
"How do I look at him and not see the guy who joked about me to his ex?"
"By talking to him," Ophilia suggested.
"Not about the project, not about the roles, but about you two.
You're both carrying this heavy weight, and it's going to break you both if you don't address it.
Mateo is a great guy, Nuella, and maybe he is your future.
But Daniel is your unfinished business.
You owe it to yourself to hear him out, really hear him, before you decide to close that door forever."
I leaned my head back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm scared that if I talk to him, I'll just melt.
And I've worked so hard to be strong this week."
"Being strong doesn't mean being cold," Ophelia said, standing up to walk over to me.
She put a hand on my shoulder.
"Being strong is being able to face the person who broke your heart and tell them exactly how it felt, without needing a shield to hide behind."
"Talk to him tonight," Ophilia urged.
"Just one matured conversation.
No fighting. No blaming. Just the truth."
I sat there in the silence of the room, the weight of their words settling over me.
They were right.
I was using Mateo as a barrier, and I was using my anger as a mask.
If I wanted to move forward, whether with Daniel or without him, I had to stop running.
I took a deep breath, the weight of Ophilia's words settling into a quiet corner of my mind.
I looked at both of them, my expression softening but staying firm.
"I hear you, Ophilia.
Truly," I said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"And I promise you, I will talk to him.
I'm not going to leave it as this broken, silent mess forever.
But it's not happening tonight. And it's definitely not happening tomorrow."
"Nuella—" Ophilia started, but I held up a hand.
"No, I mean it.
We're here for the presentation.
If I talk to him now, and it goes south, or even if it goes well, it will be in my head all day.
I need my brain focused on our work, not on whether or not my heart is still in pieces.
Once the presentation is over and the pressure is off... then I'll face him. I promise."
Saraph gave a dramatic sigh of relief, flopping back onto her pillows.
"Thank God. I was worried we were going to have a 'Romeo and Juliet' balcony scene at 2:00 AM and you'd show up tomorrow with puffy eyes.
I didn't pack enough concealer for the both of us."
I laughed, the tension finally breaking.
"Trust me, my vanity is way too high to let him ruin my face before the biggest day of my life."
"That's my girl!" Saraph grinned, grabbing a bag of overpriced hotel pretzels from the minibar.
"Now, can we please talk about something other than Daniel's soulful, brooding eyes?
Like the fact that Ophilia almost took out a waiter with her garment bag in the lobby?"
Ophilia turned bright red, reaching for a pillow to throw at Saraph.
"He walked right into my flight path!
I was maneuvering for the elevator! It's a miracle the steam-iron didn't fall out."
"You looked like a knight heading into battle with a nylon lance," I teased, joining in.
"At least I didn't trip over my own feet like Saraph did when she saw the guy from the rival team," Ophilia countered, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"The one with the glasses? You almost did a full face-plant into the concierge desk."
"He was cute!" Saraph defended herself, mouth full of pretzels.
"He had that 'I spend eighteen hours a day in a lab' look that really does it for me.
It's a weakness. Don't judge."
"We are judging," I said, clutching my stomach as I laughed.
"We are judging you so hard.
You're going to be flirting with the judges tomorrow, aren't you?"
"If it gets us the grant, I'll wink at the entire board of directors," Saraph joked, wagging her eyebrows.
For the next hour, the "Daniel problem" and the "Mateo mystery" were tucked away.
We sat on the floor, sharing snacks and making fun of the pretentious ties the guys from the other college's were wearing.
It felt like the old days, just three girls against the world, before everything got complicated.
"I'm glad you guys are here," I said quietly during a lull in the laughter.
"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Ophilia said, giving my hand a squeeze.
"Now, lights out. We have a world to conquer."
I had finally managed to quiet my mind.
The laughter with Saraph and Ophilia had acted like a balm, and the room was finally dark, save for the thin sliver of city light peeking through the heavy curtains.
I was hovering in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep when the nightstand buzzed.
The vibration felt unusually loud in the silence.
I hesitated, then reached for my phone, the screen's brightness stinging my eyes.
One new message. Daniel.
It wasn't a long apology or a speech about the presentation.
It was just three lines that felt heavier than everything else combined.
Daniel: I'm lying here realizing I don't know how to say goodnight to you anymore.
I just miss you, Nuella.
Sleep well.
I stared at the screen until it went dark.
No excuses, no ego, just a quiet admission that hurt more because it was simple.
I didn't reply. I couldn't. I just turned over and tried to find sleep in the silence.
I reached for my phone, the screen's glow cutting through the dark room. One new message. Daniel.
It wasn't a long apology or a speech about the presentation. It was just three lines that felt heavier than everything else combined.
Daniel: I'm lying here realizing I don't know how to say goodnight to you anymore. I just miss my friend, Nuella. Sleep well.
I stared at the screen until it went dark. No excuses, no ego—just a quiet admission that hurt more because it was simple. I didn't reply. I couldn't. I just turned over and tried to find sleep in the silence.
The Morning of
The sun hit the hotel glass early.
By 7:30 AM, the room was a blur of perfume and nervous energy.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my blazer and stepping into my heels.
I looked sharp, but my heart felt like it was still back in that dark room, reading that text.
"You okay?" Saraph asked, pausing while she did her hair.
"Yeah," I said, taking a breath. "I'm ready."
We headed down to the lobby. Mateo and Daniel were waiting by the glass doors.
Mateo stepped forward immediately, his eyes scanning my face with that steady, quiet concern.
He handed me a coffee, his fingers brushing mine.
"You've got this," he murmured, his voice grounded and warm.
I nodded, feeling the strength he was trying to give me. But then I looked past him.
Daniel was standing by the pillar.
He looked tired, his usual "Romeo Boy" polish replaced by something more human, more frayed.
He didn't try to walk over.
He didn't try to take over.
He just caught my eye and gave me a small, bittersweet nod, a silent acknowledgment of the message he'd sent and the miles of distance still between us.
The air was thick with everything we weren't saying.
"The car is here," Ophilia announced, breaking the tension.
We walked out into the crisp morning air.
As we piled into the car, the personal mess was tucked away, replaced by the humming silence of five people about to face the biggest moment of our lives.
The lights adjusted, centering on the podium as the moderator stepped back.
The room fell into a high-pressure silence.
This was the moment Daniel had lived for, but today, it felt different.
The Opening
Daniel stepped forward.
He adjusted the microphone with a practiced hand, but his usual cocky grin was absent.
He looked out at the panel of judges, heavyweight industry leaders and stern-faced professors, and for a second, he looked back at me.
In that glance, I saw the message he'd sent last night.
I saw the "friend" he missed.
He took a breath, turning his focus back to the audience, and began.
"Most people look at a problem and see a wall," Daniel's voice rang out.
It was deep, melodic, and carried that natural authority that had made him the face of the department.
"But our team looked at the wall and realized it was actually a door.
We just had to find the right key."
He moved through the introduction with a seamless, rhythmic flow.
He spoke about the inspiration, the long nights, and the vision.
He was perfect, the silver-tongued orator everyone expected.
But as he spoke the words "collaborative effort," his voice caught for a micro-second, his eyes flickering toward where I sat at the side of the stage.
He wasn't just selling the project to the judges; he was honoring the work he knew we had carried.
The Hand-off
He pivoted perfectly, gesturing toward the screen as the first complex data set appeared.
"But a vision without proof is just a dream," Daniel said, his tone shifting from poetic to professional.
"To walk you through the architectural integrity of our findings, I'm handing the floor to the person who truly built the foundation of this project: our Leader, Nuella."
He stepped back, retreating into the shadow of the podium.
As I moved forward to take the center mic, our shoulders brushed.
It was the closest we had been since the night at the club.
"You've got this," he whispered, so low the microphones couldn't catch it.
The Core
I stepped into the light.
The nerves that had been rattling my chest since 5:30 AM suddenly vanished.
I felt Mateo's steady presence behind me and saw Saraph and Ophilia nodding encouragingly from their positions.
"Thank you, Daniel," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.
"Let's look at the numbers."
I dove into the methodology.
I didn't just read the slides; I dismantled the problem.
I spoke with a level of technical precision that had the judges leaning forward, pens poised over their rubrics.
For twenty minutes, we were a machine.
Daniel handled the transitions, Mateo provided the technical interjections, and I drove the narrative home.
The audience was captivated.
We were halfway through the most important thirty minutes of our lives, and for the first time, the "Project" wasn't a scandal or a heartbreak.
It was a masterpiece.