A world where uncertainty doesn't exist.
The silence folded in on itself.
Neto frowned. He didn't understand it—not fully.
The idea sounded stupid.
And somehow, it made sense.
"That…" he said after a pause. "That sounds impossible."
Neo rolled his spoon between his fingers.
"Certainty isn't priceless."
There was a heaviness at the table.
Zuri smiled anyway.
"Wouldn't that be… boring?"
The smile was small. It didn't reach her eyes.
"If everything's certain, there's nothing to hope for."
Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper.
"And hope is kinda all some people have left."
"It sounds exhausting," Danso said.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
"Keeping things perfect sounds like work that never ends."
No one argued.
The table went quiet.
Not awkward. Not tense.
Final.
Aniyah reached into her pocket and paid the bill—precise, exact.
No hesitation.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she muttered.
She stood and left.
Zuri rose a moment later, clapping her hands once.
"Well, at least we know one thing."
She smiled.
"We're still meeting tomorrow."
She didn't wait for a reply.
"Get some sleep, guys," Danso said as he headed out.
Neo lingered.
He held out a fist to Neto.
"See you tomorrow, bro."
The bump was quick. Familiar.
Then he turned and left.
Neto was last.
He sat there for a moment longer, staring at the empty table.
At the space where they had been.
Uncertainty didn't feel like a flaw.
It felt like an open wound.
Confusing.
Later, Neto walked back to his room, a calm song playing through his headphones.
Students passed by on either side.
This time, he didn't run.
He just walked, breathing in the night air.
Zuri waved at people as she passed, smiling easily.
Behind it, her eyes stayed distant.
Danso yawned his way back to his room and fell asleep the moment he lay down.
Neo sat alone in the dark, fingers brushing the scar at his neck.
Aniyah curled into her bed, hugging her pillow.
The white sheets were damp.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Again.
And again.
Neto lay awake, staring at the light above him.
He wondered what a world without uncertainty would look like.
And which version of himself was better—
the one who knew everything and hated it,
or the one who knew nothing
and was lost inside it.