Roin's smile tightened.
"I didn't say it was over," he replied carefully.
"But facts are facts. We're ahead."
Rhea tilted her head.
"We?" she asked.
"Interesting. I remember answering two scenarios alone."
Kane glanced up sharply.
"Rhea."
Rhea didn't look at her mother.
Roin chuckled awkwardly.
"I'm not dismissing you. Obviously, we're a team."
"Then stop talking like you carried me," Rhea replied coolly.
"Because you didn't."
Roin's jaw clenched.
"I'm just being realistic," he said.
"People already see us as the strongest pair."
Rhea smiled then — slow, dangerous.
"People see me," she said.
"You're just standing next to me."
Silence crashed down.
Kane set her cutlery down deliberately.
"That's enough," Kane said.
"This competition is not an excuse to tear each other down."
Rhea finally turned to her.
"I'm not tearing him down," she replied calmly.
"I'm keeping him in limits."
Roin stared at his plate now, pride bruised.
After a moment, he muttered,
"I was just excited."
Rhea leaned back again, disinterested.
"Be excited," she said.
"Just don't confuse proximity with importance."
Kane watched her daughter closely.
There was strength there sharp, controlled.
But there was also something brittle underneath.
Dinner continued, quieter now.
Roin spoke less.
Rhea ate in silence.
And Kane realized something unsettling:
Rhea wasn't pretending confidence anymore.
She was defending territory.
And somewhere deep down,
that territory still wasn't free.
Dinner plates had been cleared, but no one stood up.
Kane folded her hands on the table, eyes moving between Rhea and Roin with calculated calm.
"Round Three," she said evenly.
"Talent Showcase. What are you planning?"
Rhea answered immediately.
"Architecture-meets-strategy," she said.
"A live concept build. Design logic, sustainability, execution. Clean. Strong."
Roin frowned.
"That's… safe," he said.
"Too safe."
Rhea's eyes slid toward him.
"It's solid. Judges respect substance."
Roin leaned forward, voice lowering persuasive.
"No," he said.
"They remember emotion. Romance. Connection."
Rhea straightened.
"No," she said flatly.
"We're not doing that."
Roin lifted his hands slightly.
"I'm not talking about anything cheap. Just closeness. Chemistry. Something expressive."
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"I said no."
Kane finally spoke.
"Rhea," she said calmly.
"Listen to him."
Rhea looked at her mother, surprised.
"You're siding with that?" she asked.
Kane didn't flinch.
"I'm siding with strategy," Kane replied.
"Round Three isn't about intellect anymore. It's about impact."
Rhea shook her head.
"I'm not performing romance," she said.
"It's fake."
Kane leaned back slightly.
"Is it?" she asked.
"Or are you afraid of what it provokes?"
Rhea's fingers curled.
"This competition is not about Ling," Rhea said sharply.
Kane's eyes sharpened.
"Everything in this competition is about Ling," she said quietly.
"Whether you admit it or not."
Roin stayed silent, watching carefully.
Kane continued, voice controlled but deliberate.
"If you go technical, Ling dominates you. That's her field."
"If you go emotional," Kane added,
"you destabilize her."
Rhea's chest rose and fell.
"I don't want to use that," she said.
"It's wrong."
Kane leaned forward now.
"She already believes she's lost you," Kane said.
"This will make her accept it."
Rhea's eyes flickered.
Roin chose that moment to speak.
"It doesn't have to be extreme," he said softly.
"Just… close. Romantic enough to look natural."
Rhea snapped her gaze to him.
"Don't touch me unnecessarily," she warned.
"This is not permission."
Roin nodded quickly.
"Of course. I'll follow your lead."
Kane's voice cut through.
"It should look intimate," she said.
"Close. Convincing."
Rhea stared at her mother.
"You're planning jealousy," Rhea said.
"On purpose."
Kane didn't deny it.
"Ling's future reactions are tied to how much she believes you've moved on," Kane replied.
"This round helps cement that."
Silence settled heavy.
Rhea stood abruptly.
"I'll think about it," she said coldly.
"But don't decide for me."
She turned to leave, then paused.
"And don't mistake strategy for consent," she added, eyes briefly cutting to Roin.
"One wrong move, and this ends."
She walked away.
Roin exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips once she was gone.
Kane noticed.
Her voice dropped, warning.
"Do not cross her boundaries," Kane said.
"This only works if she stays in control."
Roin nodded.
"Of course," he said.
But inside, his thoughts were already far louder.
———
The auditorium was packed.
Lights dimmed and flared in slow patterns across the stage, casting long shadows over the first rows where the remaining twenty couples sat. Faculty members, external judges, sponsors all present. This round mattered more than scores. It decided reputation.
The host's voice echoed.
"Round Three — Talent Showcase.
This round is about impact. Not marks alone.
Originality. Presence. Execution."
Applause followed.
One by one, couples were called.
OTHER COUPLES — ONE BY ONE
A finance pair presented a live stock-market simulation, predicting crashes and rebounds using real-time data. Judges nodded, impressed.
Another couple performed a spoken-word debate, weaving social justice and economics into a rhythmic argument. The crowd applauded.
A tech duo revealed an AI-driven mental health app, explaining code architecture and ethical safeguards. One judge leaned forward, clearly interested.
Music. Art. Startups. Martial arts fused with philosophy.
Each performance raised the bar.
Ling sat perfectly still in her seat.
Her posture was straight, controlled — the kind that fooled everyone into thinking she was calm.
She wasn't.
Her jaw tightened each time applause erupted. Her fingers rested loosely on her knee, unmoving, disciplined. Only Rina, sitting beside her, noticed how Ling's breathing slowed deliberately forced control.
Across the aisle, Ling didn't look.
She didn't need to.
She could feel where Rhea was.
Rhea hadn't been called yet either.
Rina leaned slightly toward Ling and whispered,
"You okay?"
Ling nodded once.
"Yes."
A lie clean and practiced.
Rhea sat on the opposite side, legs crossed, back straight, expression unreadable.
She looked composed almost cold.
Roin sat too close.
Not touching.
But close enough to be intentional.
He whispered something to her.
Rhea replied without turning her head, voice low, sharp.
"Keep distance," she said.
"Stage proximity only. Nothing else."
Roin smiled faintly.
"Relax. I know."
Rhea's eyes flicked forward again.
She didn't look at Ling.
She refused to.
The host returned to the mic.
"We'll take a short pause before calling the remaining performances."
Murmurs filled the hall.
Ling finally exhaled slow, controlled and leaned back slightly.
Her eyes lifted to the stage lights.
She told herself one thing, over and over:
Focus. Just focus.
Not on Rhea.
Not on Roin.
Not on jealousy.
Just the performance.
Across the auditorium, Rhea shifted in her seat.
For half a second just half —
Her eyes moved.
They landed on Ling.
Ling didn't look back.
The distance between them felt louder than any applause that had come before.
And still
Neither of them had stepped on stage yet.
The announcer's voice returned, steady and formal.
"Next performance Rhea Nior and Roin Malik."
A ripple moved through the auditorium.
Ling's spine went rigid.
She didn't turn her head.
She didn't need to.
She already knew.
Rhea stood and walked toward the stage with controlled steps, expression composed, unreadable. Roin followed half a step behind her too close, deliberately so.
Ling's fingers curled slowly against her palm.
Rhea took the mic briefly.
"Our talent is acting," she said calmly.
"A short interpretation from classic literature."
The lights dimmed.
Roin's voice followed, louder, confident.
"Romeo and Juliet."
Ling's breath stalled.
Her shoulders stiffened completely, as if something had locked inside her chest.
Rina glanced at her instantly.
"Ling—"
"I'm fine," Ling said quietly, eyes fixed forward.
She wasn't.
THE STAGE — THE PLAY BEGINS
Soft music filled the auditorium.
Warm lighting washed over the stage romantic, intimate.
Rhea stepped into character effortlessly.
Her posture softened.
Her voice lowered.
Roin moved toward her.
Too close.
He reached for her hand.
Rhea didn't pull away.
Ling's jaw clenched hard.
On stage, Rhea looked at Roin the way she used to look at Ling eyes softened, lips parted slightly, voice trembling with practiced affection.
"O Romeo," Rhea said, voice gentle, convincing,
"Wherefore art thou Romeo?"
The crowd leaned in.
Roin responded smoothly, stepping closer.
"Call me but love," he said,
"And I'll no longer be myself."
He brushed his thumb lightly near her wrist an acting choice.
Ling's eyes burned.
She tried not to look.
She failed.
Her vision blurred slightly.
Her throat tightened, sharp and painful.
She's acting, Ling told herself.
She has to be acting.
But Rhea tilted her head.
Smiled softly.
Let Roin lean in closer.
Too close.
Ling's eyes welled despite her control.
She forced herself to look away stared at the floor, then the ceiling, then anywhere but the stage.
Her breathing stayed even only because she commanded it to.
Rina felt the tension beside her the way Ling's entire body had gone unnaturally still.
Rina whispered urgently,
"Don't look if you can't."
Ling shook her head faintly.
"I have to," she said under her breath.
Rhea reached up, touching Roin's cheek light, deliberate, theatrical.
The audience gasped softly.
Romantic murmurs spread.
Rhea's voice softened further.
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea," she said,
"My love as deep—"
Roin leaned closer, their faces inches apart.
Ling's eyes filled fully now.
She blinked hard, once, twice refusing to let tears fall.
Her lips parted slightly, breath shallow.
Her hands trembled just once before she forced them still again.
The music swelled.