The Preparation

006

Mira spent the next thirty-six hours avoiding her phone.

It wasn't just Ethan's texts, there were seventeen of those, ranging from apologetic to accusatory, but also Jenna's voice mails, her mother's daily check-ins, and the campus gossip page, which had apparently decided she and Sebastian were either engaged or mortal enemies. There was no middle ground.

She dove into debate prep like a soldier into battle.

The Covington Scholarship required more than winning. It required a portfolio: recorded rounds, recommendation letters, a personal statement, and a final public debate against the other finalists. The committee didn't just want skill, they wanted a story. Someone who would represent the university's values.

Mira's story was supposed to be perfection. Hard work and discipline. The immigrant daughter who earned everything.

But now her story was the girl who fake-dated her rival for revenge.

She needed to win. Not just for the money, but for the narrative.

***

At 7:58pm, she stood outside the debate hall.

The building was old, gothic arches, stained glass, the kind of architecture that made you feel small and ambitious at the same time. Mira had spent more hours inside than her own dorm. She knew every drafty corner, every creaky floorboard, every angle of the podium that made her look taller.

Tonight, it felt like a stage.

She pushed open the door.

Sebastian was already there... Of course he was. He sat on the edge of the debate stage, legs dangling, two coffee cups beside him. The overhead lights were off; only the emergency bulbs glowed, casting long shadows across the empty seats.

"You're early," he said.

"You're earlier."

"I live here now." He picked up both coffees, stood up and walked toward her. Handed her one. Black, no sugar. "I've decided to become a debate hall ghost. Haunting anyone who can't construct a logical syllogism."

"That's half the team."

"Exactly." He sat down in the front row of the seats and patted the chair beside him. "Sit. We need to talk strategy before we actually debate."

Mira sat. Their shoulders didn't touch this time. There was a careful six inches of space between them and she pretended not to notice.

"Strategy," she repeated. "Fine. The scholarship committee values three things: technical skill, original argumentation, and personal narrative. I have the first two. My narrative is... complicated now."

"Because of me?"

"Because of us." She took a sip of coffee. It was perfect. She hated how well he knew her order. "The gossip page thinks we're together. If we make the finals, which we will... the committee will ask about our relationship. They'll want to know if it affects our judgment."

Sebastian leaned back. His arm stretched along the back of her chair, not touching her shoulders but close enough that she could feel the warmth.

"Then we tell them the truth," he said.

Mira turned to stare at him. "We can't tell them the truth."

"Not the fake-dating truth. The other truth." He met her eyes. "We tell them that we started as rivals. That we pushed each other to be better. That somewhere along the way, respect turned into something else. And that we're professional enough to compete without letting personal feelings interfere."

"That's a lie."

"Is it?" His voice was quiet and dangerous. "Do you have personal feelings for me, Chen?"

Mira's heart stopped. Then started again, too fast.

"I have a contract with you," she said carefully. "Rule number three."

"Rule number three says no real feelings. It doesn't say no feelings at all." He tilted his head. "I'm asking if you feel anything. Maybe annoyance, respect or even the urge to push me off this chair."

"The urge to push you off this chair is very real."

"Good. That's authentic." He grinned. "See? We're naturals."

Mira wanted to hit him. She also wanted to kiss him. Both desires were equally strong and equally forbidden. She settled for taking another sip of coffee.

"Let's practice," she said. "The final round topic hasn't been announced, but past years have focused on ethics, honesty and integrity in competition. We should prepare for something along those lines."

Sebastian stood up, walked to the podium and turned to face her.

"Then let's debate. Right now. No preparation. Topic: Is winning worth losing yourself?"

Mira's throat tightened. That was the question she had been avoiding since she signed the contract.

She stood up, walked to the other podium, facing him across the stage.

"Affirmative," she said. "Winning is worth the sacrifice because losing means being forgotten, and being forgotten means you never mattered."

Sebastian's expression didn't change. But something flickered in his eyes.

"Negative," he replied. "Winning at the cost of yourself means you don't exist anymore anyway. You've just built a trophy where your heart used to be."

"Then you've never wanted anything badly enough."

"Or I've wanted something badly enough to know that losing it would destroy me." He stepped away from the podium. Walked toward her, Slowly. "You think winning the scholarship will fix you, Mira. It won't. You'll just be a winner who's still alone."

Mira's hands gripped the podium edges. "And you think losing yourself in someone else is better?"

"I think losing yourself for someone else is different." He stopped in front of her. Close... too close. "I think there's a version of winning that includes someone standing next to you. And I think you're so afraid of needing anyone that you've convinced yourself needing is losing."

The air between them was electric. Mira could feel her pulse in her throat.

"This is a debate," she whispered. "Not therapy."

"Debate is therapy for people who can't afford real feelings." He raised his hand. Touched her chin. Just one finger, tilting her face up. "You asked if the scholarship committee will believe our story. I'm telling you... they'll believe it because it's already true."

"Nothing is true between us."

"Then why are you still here?" His thumb brushed her lower lip. Feather-light. "The contract doesn't require us to practice together at 8pm on a Monday. You could be anywhere. But you're here. With me."

Mira couldn't breathe or think. She tried remembering why she had made rule number three.

"Sebastian..."

His phone rang.

The sound shattered the moment like glass. Sebastian stepped back, pulled out his phone, and glanced at the screen. At that moment his face went pale.

"I have to take this," he said. His voice was different, a bit of strain. "It's my father."

He walked to the corner of the room, answered in a low voice. Mira couldn't hear the words, but she could see his posture change... shoulders tightening, jaw clenching, the easy confidence draining away.

He hung up after thirty seconds. Came back. Didn't look at her.

"I have to go," he said. "Family thing."

"Sebastian..."

"He's coming to campus." Sebastian's voice was flat and felt empty. "Tomorrow. He wants to meet you."

Mira's blood went cold. "Meet me? Why?"

"Because he saw the gossip page. He thinks I'm dating the debate champion. And he wants to know if you're 'worthy of the Kessler name.'" Sebastian laughed bitterly. "As if I give a shit about the Kessler name."

He grabbed his stuffs and walked toward the door.

"Wait," Mira said. "What do I say to him?"

Sebastian paused at the door. Looked back at her. His gray eyes were dark, wounded, nothing like the arrogant boy who had fed her a muffin.

"Tell him the truth," he said. "That you're using me for revenge, and I'm using you for the scholarship. He'll respect that more than feelings."

Then he was gone.

Mira stood alone on the debate stage, the podium cold under her hands, Sebastian's coffee still warm on the seat beside hers.

She touched her lower lip where his thumb had been.

Nothing is true between us.

She had said that.

But she was already counting down until she could see him again.