CHAPTER 5

Five months had passed since Lareina and Sean first crossed paths with Yvo at the university. At first, time had seemed to drift casually by, each day folding into the next, until they all fell into a familiar rhythm. A routine of laughter, banter, and shared experiences had formed between the three of them, yet the comfort that once defined their dynamic was slowly unraveling, or at least, that was how Sean felt.

As the days turned into weeks, Sean could not help but notice how often Lareina and Yvo spent time together. The closeness between them was no longer subtle; it was tangible, visible in the way they talked, laughed, and exchanged looks that Sean was never part of. Sometimes, when Lareina would casually share updates about her day, Sean realized that more and more of her stories included Yvo. That silent realization weighed heavily on him, making him feel like a shadow, forgotten in the corners of her world. He wanted to remind her, shout if he had to, that her best friend was Sean Zhan, not Yvo Wang.

It was during their third subject of the day, a class held inside a spacious, sunlit lecture hall, when the professor introduced a project that would stir the pot even more. The middle-aged professor, known for his strictness but fair demeanor, stood at the front with a clipboard in hand.

“For your next project,” he began, capturing the room’s attention, “you will be working in pairs. Your partner will be the person seated beside you.”

An immediate wave of groans and cheers spread across the lecture hall. Some students grinned at their luck, while others slumped in their seats in silent frustration.

Lareina, however, was positively glowing. She quickly turned her head to the side, where Yvo sat coolly, as if he had expected this all along. Yvo caught her gaze and winked playfully, and she beamed in response, her excitement bubbling over.

She was more than happy. She was feeling so lucky. Everyone knew Yvo was not just skilled in sports but also gifted in music. An undeniable talent he carried with a casual confidence. Being paired with him was like being handed a golden ticket to success. Lareina was certain that with Yvo’s creativity, sharp instincts, and competitive drive, their project would not just meet expectations. It would surpass them.

She had to admit. It was a quality she admired in him. Unlike Sean, who rarely cared about recognition or winning, Yvo possessed a hunger for excellence that Lareina found both admirable and fascinating.

The professor’s voice cut through the chatter.

“For this project, you and your partner will compose and perform a duet. Since most of you are already fixated on the concepts of romance — thanks to your youth — the theme will be centered around love. The genre is up to you, as long as the message is clear.”

An excited murmur spread throughout the classroom. Love songs always sparked interest; after all, who didn’t have a secret playlist of their favorite ballads or heartbreak anthems?

“You have two weeks,” the professor added, eyeing the students over the rim of his glasses. “The live performance will be two Mondays from now. The pair with the highest score will represent the class during the Night Concert of our university’s foundation day celebration.”

At the mention of the Night Concert, nearly everyone straightened in their seats. It was the most prestigious event of the year, not just a performance, but a stage where reputations were made. Even alumni and guests from outside the university came to watch the performances. The foundation day was a two-day festival: the first day was reserved for sports competitions, and the second for arts, music, and design, ending with the Night Concert — the grand finale that everyone looked forward to.

When the professor dismissed them early, the classroom erupted into movement. Students excitedly turned to their assigned partners, eager to exchange ideas.

Lareina spun her chair toward Yvo, her eyes dancing with anticipation. “What genre should we try?”

Yvo leaned back in his seat, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “What’s the exact deadline again?”

“Two weeks from today. So next Monday.”

Yvo nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as his mind began calculating the time they had. Lareina watched him with quiet admiration, impressed by how he could immediately slip into a strategic mindset.

“Do you have any instruments at home?” Yvo asked abruptly.

“Just my guitar,” she replied. “Why?”

“I was thinking about where we could practice. I have a mini-studio set up at my house. We could work there. It’s fully equipped. It would help us figure out which instruments match the melody we’ll create.”

Lareina’s eyes widened. Once again, Yvo surprised her. Every time she thought she knew all there was to know about him, he revealed another layer.

“That sounds perfect,” she said, but then paused, her lips pressing into a small pout.

“But?”

Yvo raised an eyebrow, catching her hesitation.

“Well... is it alright if Sean comes too? I know he’ll freak out if I tell him I’m going to your house alone. He’ll probably scold me and tell me not to go.”

Yvo’s expression darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. That boy again, he thought bitterly.

“What is he, your dad?” Yvo muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with disdain.

Lareina laughed nervously, unsure how to smooth over the tension. No matter what she did, the animosity between Sean and Yvo never lessened. They remained two opposing forces that refused to coexist peacefully.

“He’s just protective, that’s all,” she tried to explain.

“Fine,” Yvo said, waving a hand dismissively. “He can come. But only if he knows how to behave. If he causes trouble, I’m kicking him out. No second chances.”

“Thank you! He’ll be good, I promise,” Lareina said with relief, her smile brightening again. Yvo sighed, already slightly regretting his decision, but he was not about to take it back.

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, in the quiet of the art room, Sean stood before his easel, brush in hand. He was engrossed in his painting, each stroke precise, the canvas slowly coming to life with every dab of color. The room smelled faintly of paint and wood polish, a familiar and comforting scent.

His focus broke when a soft knock sounded at the door. He turned to see Lucy, one of his clubmates, stepping inside with a bright smile.

“Oh, Lucy! Morning!” Sean greeted, his grin effortless and warm.

“Good morning, Sean. I was just stopping by to check if you’re joining the art exhibit,” she said, her eyes drifting curiously to his canvas.

Sean nodded proudly. “Yeah, I’m working on my piece now. Why?”

Lucy chuckled, sensing the brief flicker of worry in his expression. “No bad news! I just came to give you this.”

She handed him a form. “This is the registration form for the exhibit. The deadline is this Friday. So don’t forget, okay?”

Sean accepted it with a small bow of gratitude. “Thank you, Lucy.”

Lucy’s cheeks turned a soft pink, though she tried to hide it. She had liked Sean for a while now, ever since she caught him sketching alone in the library one rainy afternoon. But she had always been too shy to say anything. Still, thanks to Darren’s subtle help, she had at least gotten closer to Sean, even if only as a friend.

“Well, good luck! I’ll see you around,” she said cheerily before hurrying off.

Once she was gone, Sean stared at the registration form in his hands, a faint grin playing on his lips. But it was short-lived. His mind wandered back to the news he had already caught wind of — Lareina going to Yvo’s house for their project.

His grip on the form tightened, his knuckles pale.

“Focus on the painting,” he muttered to himself, turning back to his easel. “Forget it. Focus on the exhibit.”

But no matter how many colors he mixed or how carefully he brushed each stroke, his mind kept betraying him. The image of Yvo and Lareina together, laughing, creating music, sitting side by side, replayed in his thoughts like a persistent, haunting melody. The jealousy stained his heart, as if the paints on his palette were slowly darkening, no matter how vibrant they appeared.

And so, his canvas remained unfinished. Not just because of the layers of paint it lacked, but because of the storm of emotions that refused to leave his mind in peace.