The afternoon sun cast long streaks across the lab's high windows, staining the walls in amber and gold, but for Nico, time had collapsed into blinking cursors and hovering screens. He sat unmoving at his desk, face bathed in the cold light of his monitor, fingers absently drumming the edge of the keyboard.
Lines of code glowed back at him.
The fail-safe was nearly complete.
"Override must be local. Sequence loop must re-authenticate every thirty minutes. Manual abort is locked behind triple biometric."
He didn't blink. Didn't breathe too deep. Not until the string ran green across the console, confirming a pass.
Only then did he lean back, jaw tight, eyes aching from the screen's glare. He was tired. Not from the work, but from the weight of knowing that someone, someday, might try again. And next time, it wouldn't be out of curiosity. It wouldn't be a foolish intern slipping where he didn't belong.
It would be calculated.
Planned.
Intentional.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard again. The prototype had responded that night, not just activated. It had recognized a threat. That alone changed everything. Nyx's integration wasn't just successful, it was evolving, faster than projected.
He couldn't afford to leave her defenseless. Not in a world that had proven, already, it would rather steal or destroy than understand.
A soft knock sounded against the glass wall of his office.
Professor Aldrin stepped in, coffee in one hand, brows pinched. "Still on it?"
Nico gave a small nod. "Won't take chances. We were lucky the first time."
Aldrin placed the cup down beside him and looked at the scattered printouts and diagrams. "You're expecting another breach?"
"I'm expecting worse," Nico murmured. "Someone with a reason. Not curiosity. Not doubt."
He didn't say Kayla's name. He didn't need to. The sting of it still clung in the air like the remnants of a toxic perfume.
But even deeper than her presence was a feeling Nico couldn't shake, something more precise behind the chaos. Kayla was obsessed, yes. Dangerous, undoubtedly. But erratic. Emotional.
What had happened back then wasn't just obsession.
It was orchestrated.
He tapped the final sequence into the override protocol and watched the system auto-lock.
There. One less crack to slip through.
Still, something in his chest felt unsettled.
As if this was only the beginning.
The tablet screen had long gone idle in my lap, but I hadn't moved. I just sat there, sunk into the corner of the couch, the blanket warming my legs while the rest of the world slowed down with the afternoon light.
I knew he'd come.
Nico had a way of carrying silence like armor, but when he needed to breathe, he always found his way to me.
The moment the door eased open, I looked up. He didn't say anything. Just walked straight toward me, dragging a tired sort of gravity with him. He dropped beside me without warning, shoulder brushing mine, tension still clinging to his frame like static.
"Everything alright?" I asked gently.
He gave a nod, the kind that didn't convince me. "Yeah. Just thinking."
I didn't press. I didn't have to.
He leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling for a second longer before something in him gave way. Slowly, deliberately, he started talking. Not in pieces or vague hints, but the whole thing, start to finish.
He told me about the fail-safe, about the layers of defense he was building into the prototype. He told me about David, about the call they intercepted, the panic, the guilt. Then her name slipped out like a thorn, Kayla. I caught the tightness in his jaw when he said it.
But what really struck me wasn't the information, it was the fact that he was telling me at all.
Because Nico didn't just talk. Not like this. He calculated every word in public, shielded the soft parts with hard logic and sterile truths. Yet here he was, laying out every knot inside his chest like he couldn't carry it alone anymore.
And he gave it to me.
Not just the facts, but the weight.
I stayed quiet. Just listened. Just held the silence for him to fall into. Because I understood. Not everything could be solved with equations or prototypes. Some things needed something messier. Softer.
So I leaned into him, just enough for his shoulder to feel it, and whispered, "You're not alone in this."
And I meant every word.
When the weight of everything pressed down too hard, Nico and I had a way of melting it away, no words needed, just the simple language of being close.
He'd pull me into his arms, slow and sure, like we were the only two people in the world. His breath steady against my hair, fingers tracing lazy circles on my back. I'd rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the familiar rhythm grounding me.
Time would fold into itself, all the noise and chaos fading until the only thing left was us, tangled together, silent but unbreakable.
It was our favorite routine when the world got too loud, too sharp. Just holding each other tight, letting the silence say what words couldn't.
In those moments, everything else could wait.
Just two weeks left until summer break slipped away, and the rhythm of our days had settled into something familiar, something almost like a secret comfort.
Nico went to the lab every morning like clockwork, while I stayed behind, soaking in the slow, lazy vibe of our little home during these long, sun-drenched days. Summer was winding down, but the air still tasted like freedom and quiet possibilities.
Most mornings started the same way, Nico in the kitchen before dawn, effortlessly whipping up breakfast like a pro. His signature omelets, perfectly seasoned coffee, and fresh toast felt like a little ceremony that kicked off the day right. Sometimes he'd hum low, a melody just for himself or maybe for me, and I'd watch from the doorway, the soft light catching the curve of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed just a little in concentration.
By the time the sun hit its stride, he was out the door, briefcase in hand, ready to dive into the chaos of the lab. Meanwhile, I'd curl up with my sketchbook or my thoughts, waiting for the hours to tick down.
Evenings were a different kind of routine. Sometimes, dinner was early, carefully prepared by Nico's skilled hands, perfectly grilled salmon or creamy pasta that made me melt every time. Other nights, the lab kept him late, experiments that needed just a little longer, problems that demanded extra attention. When he finally got home, the kitchen was often dark and cold, and instead, we'd just find each other.
Those nights, when nothing else mattered, and time folded around us like a secret blanket. No rush, no distractions, just the two of us tangled up, stealing pieces of summer in our own way.
I couldn't wait for school to start again, not because I was ready to leave this behind, but because it meant more time with him, even if it was just in stolen moments between classes and labs.
Those last two weeks felt like a countdown to the next chapter, one we'd face together, just like always.
The auditorium buzzed with restless energy. Even with the thick doors closed behind us, I could still feel the weight of summer pressing in through the walls, sticky and insistent. The air inside was cooler, sure, but it didn't stop the anticipation from simmering just under the surface. A new school year. A new beginning. Or something like it.
I sat wedged comfortably between Lila and Sam, both of whom were already whispering about class schedules and professors they hoped, or desperately prayed, not to get. Lila's eyes flicked over the crowd like she was cataloging faces for later gossip. Sam had his tablet open with three tabs of possible electives, none of which he seemed committed to.
Ahead of us, the freshmen looked like they were trying to pretend they weren't terrified. First day jitters were always easy to spot, wide eyes, stiff backs, and the death grip on printed schedules. I remembered that feeling too well.
A hush fell across the auditorium as Mr. Francoise stepped onto the stage.
Even before he spoke, the room quieted for him. There was something about the way he carried himself, composed, precise, always just a breath ahead of everyone else. As the school's dean and head of the robotics department, he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard.
"Welcome back, everyone," he said, his voice ringing out clear and steady. "This year promises to bring exciting changes, new challenges, and new faces to our community."
I leaned back in my seat slightly, watching him through half-lidded eyes. There was a faint smile on his face, the kind that said he already knew more than he was letting on.
Then he turned toward the giant screen behind him, gesturing with an open hand.
"It's my honor to introduce the newest member of our school board, someone who will play a vital role in shaping our future here."
The screen flickered to life.
Elias Camden.
Whispers spread like wildfire around us. Lila leaned in closer. "That name sounds familiar…"
I recognized it too, not from campus, but from the academic circuits Nico sometimes got pulled into. Elias Camden. A visionary. Young for someone in his position. Known for his progressive takes on institutional learning and... something else. Something I couldn't place yet.
When he stepped out onto the stage, the first thing I noticed was the calm in his posture, too calm, like he didn't just belong there, but had been planning this entrance long before the lights hit his face.
He wasn't smiling like Francoise. His expression was more… restrained. Like a chess player scanning the board mid-game.
Lila nudged me. "Okay, he's handsome even with the wrinkles. But I don't trust him."
Sam whispered back, "You don't trust anyone with a tucked-in shirt."
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Elias Camden's gaze was sweeping the room. And for the briefest second, I could've sworn he paused, just slightly, when it passed over our row. Over me.
It was gone before I could blink, and I told myself it was nothing. But something low in my gut twitched, uneasy.
I crossed one leg over the other, fingers curling into my sleeve as the applause began.
A new board member.
A new school year.
And something new, crawling quietly under the surface, where no one else could hear it yet, but me.
The buzz of the auditorium still lingered like static in my ears, even as the crowd slowly thinned. Most of the students had already filed out, but I sat there a little longer, legs crossed, arms draped lazily over the back of the seat beside me. Lila and Sam were still on either side of me, their chatter the kind of familiar noise I didn't have to tune out.
"Well, that was... something," Lila said, smoothing her skirt and tossing her hair back like the drama of it all hadn't fazed her. But I could see the way her fingers tapped against her leg, subtle, but restless.
"Something polished and slightly intimidating," Sam chimed in, dragging his backpack over his shoulder. "Did you catch the way the new guy scanned the crowd like he already knew who'd fail midterms?"
I huffed, not quite a laugh. "He's not even a professor. Probably just likes to feel important."
Still, something about the way the new school board member looked out at the crowd, it didn't sit right. I couldn't put a name to it yet, but it felt like... calculation. Not welcome. Not curiosity. Just calculation.
We stood and merged into the stream of students heading toward the quad. Same path, same crowd, same ridiculous back-to-school banners. The sun was too bright for my eyes, but I kept pace with Lila and Sam, our steps falling into sync automatically. Another year. Junior year. Only two left now.
We shared the same major, so our schedules were practically mirrors. Lila had already memorized half of hers, Sam was complaining about the early labs, and I just wanted to make it through the week without having to punch someone who touched my coffee.
By midafternoon, we'd picked up our updated IDs, sorted our classroom lists, and somehow ended up back at the campus café like we always did. Our corner booth was still there, scratched into familiarity and worn down just the way we liked it.
I sat facing the window, instinctively looking toward the robotics wing. I could almost picture him inside, sleeves rolled up, dark hair a mess, hunched over some new adjustment or scribbling notes at a whiteboard that had way too many colored markers involved. Nico. He'd probably skipped the ceremony entirely. Too busy refining the new failsafe protocols, just in case. Just in case curiosity wasn't the only threat next time.
The thought made me shift in my seat.
My phone buzzed at my hip, and when I glanced down, I didn't have to guess who it was.
Nico: How's orientation going, troublemaker?
I smiled before I could stop it. My fingers tapped out a reply just as fast.
Me: Over. Grabbing coffee with Lila and Sam. You surviving without me?
Nico: Barely. Might have to bribe the printer to keep me company.
I let out a quiet snort.
"Let me guess," Sam said across from me, half-grinning. "Your nerd of a boyfriend?"
"You know it," I said without looking up.
Lila leaned her head against my shoulder for a second. "You're disgustingly cute sometimes. It's starting to hurt."
We ordered drinks, half-listened to Sam go on about one of the new professors who apparently looked like a sleep-deprived anime character, and slipped back into the same rhythm we'd built over the past two years.
But behind all the laughter, the teasing, the taste of espresso and the way sunlight hit our booth just right… something was off.
I felt it in my chest.
Something watching. Or maybe waiting. Like the peace we had was a dream on borrowed time.
I turned back to the window one more time, looking toward that lab again.
I hoped Nico was right. I hoped the failsafe was enough.
But some part of me, quiet, instinctive, old, was already bracing.
The new year had just started.
And the storm was already building.