The rest of the day slipped by normally… or at least it looked normal on the outside.
Inside my head?Tomorrow Afternoon...
Theodore didn't waste a second. The moment he saw me in the hallway, he walked straight toward me with that calm, unreadable expression he always had.
"Sabrina," he said, stopping in front of me. "Do you have time? We need to discuss the prom auditorium design."
My brain short-circuited a little.
But I nodded anyway. "Y-Yes. Let's go."
He turned and started walking ahead, and of course I followed him like an obedient puppy—except clumsier and far less graceful.
We headed straight to the Design Room, the place Principal Pendhore assigned for the planning. And as expected, the two shadows of my life—Anastasia and Fiona—were already waiting inside.
Anastasia was twirling a pen dramatically. "You're late."
Fiona crossed her arms. "We timed it. You took twelve years."
I squinted at them. "It was literally five minutes."
"Five minutes too long," Anastasia declared.
Both of them noticed Theodore behind me and straightened like guilty students.
"Oh. Good afternoon, President Vior," Fiona said politely.
"Good afternoon," Anastasia echoed, her voice suspiciously innocent.
Theodore nodded. "Thank you both for helping with the prom project."
He said it so formal, so elegant, like he was thanking ambassadors from another country.
I placed my bag down and opened the folder Principal Pendhore gave me—filled with last year's prom photos, auditorium measurements, and the assignment letter.
And yes, I still couldn't say his name without wanting to giggle.
Bonex Afertly Pendhore.
I swear his parents were either creative or chaotic.
"Okay!" I clapped my hands. "The principal wants a prom theme that is elegant, grand, and unforgettable—"
Anastasia snapped her fingers. "Royal Ballroom."
Fiona gasped. "YES. Lots of gold. Chandeliers. Big stage. Long curtains."
Theodore nodded approvingly. "That aligns with the school's traditional aesthetic."
I smiled. "So we're all agreeing to the Royal Ballroom theme?"
Everyone nodded.
Perfect. Step one: successful.
Step two: try not to embarrass myself.
We began planning the auditorium itself.
I spread the huge auditorium blueprint on the table.
"Here," I said, pointing at the stage. "We can make this area bigger for the opening dance."
Theodore leaned closer, his shoulder almost touching mine—but not quite. "And we can add a layered backdrop behind it. Something gold and white."
Anastasia scribbled notes.
Fiona began sketching sample décor.
Everything was going smoothly…
Until I stood up too fast, again, and my foot hooked on the corner of the carpet.
I tilted.
I wobbled.
I nearly kissed the floor.
But before disaster hit—
A hand caught my wrist.
Firm. Steady. Warm.
"Careful," Theodore said softly.
My face instantly caught fire. "S-Sorry. The carpet attacked me."
Anastasia burst out laughing.
Fiona nodded seriously. "That carpet has been plotting since Monday."
Theodore sighed—then surprisingly, he smiled a little. "Just stay still for a moment."
I didn't know how to function after that.
We continued planning
Center aisle lined with faux gold pillars
Hanging crystal chandeliers
Navy blue curtains with gold embroidery
Dance floor in the middle
Flower arrangements around the sides
A grand stage entrance
Anastasia and Fiona were unstoppable.
Theodore kept everything balanced and organized.
And I… tried not to fall again.
After an hour, we had almost a full draft.
"This is good," Theodore said, reviewing the sketches. "We can finalize the decoration layout tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Anastasia asked.
"Yes," he replied. "If everyone is available."
Fiona gave me a sneaky look.
Anastasia elbowed me.
I ignored both of them.
As we cleaned up, Theodore turned to me.
"Sabrina," he said, "you did well today."
My ears instantly turned into heaters.
"I-I just didn't fall on anything important."
He actually chuckled. "That, too."
We stepped out of the design room together, Anastasia and Fiona trailing behind us like two gossip-loving angels of chaos.
"You're walking beside him again," Anastasia whispered.
"Progress," Fiona whispered louder.
I wanted the floor to swallow me—but at the same time, a soft, unfamiliar warmth sat quietly in my chest.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
This project wouldn't be so bad after all.
As we walked down the hallway, the late morning sun filtered through the windows, casting long light patterns on the floor. The whole school was buzzing—students heading to their classes, clubs setting up posters, teachers rushing between rooms.
But somehow, everything felt quieter around us.
Theodore walked beside me with that calm, steady pace of his, hands in his pockets, eyes forward like nothing ever surprises him. Meanwhile, my brain was basically flipping tables inside my skull.
Anastasia and Fiona followed close behind, whispering at a volume they thought was subtle.
"He caught her," Anastasia whispered.
"He literally held her wrist," Fiona whispered back.
"That's basically romance in slow motion—"
"SHH." I hissed, glancing back.
They grinned like they'd been caught stealing cookies.
We reached the main hallway intersection, where everyone usually splits off to go to their different buildings. Theodore slowed down and faced me.
"I'll finalize the digital layout tonight," he said. "Can I send you the draft once it's ready?"
"M-Me?" I pointed at myself like he asked if I could run for president.
"Yes. You're the lead for the theme, right?"
Oh. Right.
"Yes. Yes, you can send it. Anytime. I mean—not past midnight. Or past three. Or—"
Anastasia quietly slapped her own forehead behind me.
Fiona sighed dramatically.
But Theodore… just nodded, unbothered.
"Understood. I'll message you before evening."
Before I could reply, a group of students passed by and called out to him:
"President Vior! Are we still having the council briefing later?"
"Yes. At three," he answered instantly.
"Copy, sir!"
He turned back to me with a gentler tone.
"See you tomorrow, Sabrina."
And just like that, he walked away—composed, elegant, unbothered, leaving me standing there like I just got hit by a flying textbook of emotions.
Anastasia slipped beside me. "Girl… did you breathe at all?"
Fiona nodded. "Your soul left your body at least twice."
"I'm fine," I insisted.
They exchanged a look that translated to: She is absolutely not fine.
We started heading to our next class, and my mind drifted again—this time not to panic, but to something warm.
Theodore's hand on my wrist.
His quiet chuckle.
His smile.
This prom project… might be the beginning of something unexpected.
Something I wasn't prepared for.
But maybe… I wanted to be.
Chaos. Actual chaos.
Classes were moving, teachers were talking, students were chatting, but all I could think about was the meeting earlier and how smoothly everything went. The sketches were already halfway done after just one session. Anastasia and Fiona were bursting with excitement because the theme was their dream aesthetic. Theodore handled everything with that calm, precise way of his.
And I—
I was trying not to fall again or draw unnecessary attention to myself.
To be fair, today wasn't bad. For once, I didn't slam into a wall, fall down stairs, or accidentally insult someone's shoe choice. That alone deserved a trophy.
When the final bell rang, I packed my bag quickly. I didn't see Theodore again the rest of the day—which made things feel strangely quiet. He'd said earlier in a very formal tone:
"I'll finalize the digital layout before evening"
Short. Precise. Like he was sending a message to a co-worker, not a classmate.
But I appreciated it.
It kept things from feeling too… complicated.
I walked home, went straight to my room, changed into something comfortable, and collapsed on my bed with a groan.
"All right," I mumbled into my pillow. "I survived. Good job, Sabrina. Well done."
A message pinged.
I sat up fast.
For one ridiculous second, I thought:
Is it him?
But no—it was only the group chat.
Anastasia:
SAB. Have you eaten?
Fiona:
She didn't. She forgets her life every time she gets busy.
I rolled my eyes and typed:
Me:
Guys. I am literally alive. Don't panic.
Anastasia:
We WILL panic.
Also… are you ready for the second session tomorrow?
Fiona:
You and PRESIDENT DIGNITY working together again~
I threw my pillow across the room.
Me:
NO. STOP. He's just being professional.
Both of them sent the same reply:
Sure. Professional. Definitely. 100%.
I was about to respond when another notification appeared.
This time, I froze.
Theodore Vior sent an attachment.
I clicked it.
A clean, organized layout of the auditorium design filled my screen—complete with color testing, angle positioning, and adjusted measurements. He even labeled every section neatly.
Then his message appeared below it:
Theodore:
These are the refinements we agreed on.
Please review and see if I missed anything.
I blinked.
Then I blinked again.
He submitted everything ahead of time, even though he promised he'd send it before evening. It was barely sunset.
Of course he was early.
Of course he was efficient.
I typed a reply carefully, trying not to sound like an excited squirrel.
Me:
This looks great. Thank you. I'll check it properly after dinner.
His reply came faster than I expected.
Theodore:
All right.
Good work today.
That subtle compliment… the quiet acknowledgement… it wasn't too warm, not too cold.
Just enough to make my stomach flutter slightly.
Not romantically—
Just… academically. Professionally.
'
That's what I told myself.'
Before I could think more, the group chat exploded again.
Anastasia:
SAB. SHOW US. WHAT DID HE SEND?
Fiona:
IS IT HIS FACE????
IS IT HIS SMILE???
DID HE SEND A SELFIE???
I covered my eyes with one hand.
Me:
IT'S THE PROJECT. JUST THE PROJECT.
Stop imagining weird things.
Anastasia:
Let us imagine in peace.
Fiona:
We support your future.
I nearly dropped my phone.
Me:
WHAT FUTURE?! HELLO?! THIS IS WORK.
They didn't answer.
Probably laughing on their end.
I sighed, set my phone aside, and lay back on my bed.
There was nothing romantic about any of this.
Nothing at all.
But…
I will admit one thing, just to myself.
When I saw his message notification earlier,
my heart…
did jump a little.
Just a tiny jump.
Barely noticeable.
I'm choosing to blame caffeine.
And stress.
Definitely not him.
I must have read Theodore's last message at least ten times.
"I'll send the final draft later this evening."
Calm. Formal. Very him.
But my brain? Oh no. My brain was not calm. My brain was doing embarrassing cartwheels.
Still, I pretended to be normal. I put my phone face down like it offended me and walked out of my room before I could overthink harder.
Dinner smelled like roasted chicken and garlic rice. Mom and Dad were already seated, plates prepared neatly like we were in some hotel dining room.
"Sit, Sab," Mom said with a soft smile.
I did. But the moment my butt touched the chair—
Mom casually dropped a bomb.
"So… the marriage will officially start this coming December break."
I froze.
Fork in hand. Souls leaving body. Brain exiting planet.
"It's November," Dad added, sipping his soup like he didn't just say something life-changing. "Barely four weeks left."
My internal reaction?
FOUR WEEKS?? EXCUSE ME??
Outwardly, I smiled like a dying plant.
"That soon?" I croaked.
Mom nodded. "Everything must be prepared. The lawyers will finalize the documents in two weeks. We need you to be emotionally ready."
Emotionally ready?
Ma'am… I trip over carpets.
I lose balance breathing.
I burn rice in a rice cooker.
How am I supposed to be emotionally ready for becoming a wife?
My thoughts spiraled so fast I felt dizzy.
Marriage. Marriage. Marriage.
With Theodore.
THEODORE.
The school president with the perfect posture, perfect voice, and perfect everything. And I'm… me. The girl who almost face-planted in front of him because of a carpet with a personal vendetta.
Mom continued, "This marriage is very important, Sabrina. For both families. For the company."
Dad nodded. "We trust you."
Me? I trusted myself to trip on the altar.
I mechanically chewed my chicken like a robot with feelings. Mostly panic.
"Don't worry," Mom added. "Theodore seems like a responsible young man."
Oh, he is.
Probably too responsible. Enough for both of us.
"He'll take good care of you," she finished.
I didn't know if that made me feel relieved or more anxious.
After dinner, I escaped to my room, closed the door, and dramatically collapsed onto my bed like a heroine in a sad telenovela.
I stared at the ceiling.
Four weeks.
Just four weeks before I become someone's wife.
I wasn't ready. I wasn't mentally, physically, or spiritually trained for this. I couldn't even keep my notebooks organized, how was I supposed to keep a marriage organized?
"Sabrina Vior…" I whispered to myself.
I almost gagged.
Nope. Too early. Too weird.
My brain then betrayed me with a horrible mental image—
Me walking down the aisle… tripping… rolling… hitting the pastor like a bowling ball.
I slapped my face with a pillow.
"STOP. THINKING."
But of course, I didn't stop. I kept imagining more unfortunate accidents:
me throwing the bouquet backwards and breaking a chandelier
me accidentally calling Theodore "President" during vows
me tripping down the stairs and him catching me like some K-drama
me falling again while he watches like "why is she like this"
I groaned into the pillow.
I was dying. Mentally. Emotionally. Socially.
And then—
I remembered something even worse.
The dream I had last night.
I dreamed of Theodore again.
But not in a romantic way.
In the dream, he was wearing a princely costume for the Royal Ballroom theme—and for some reason, I was dressed like a chicken. A literal chicken. Yellow feathers and everything.
I was doing the chicken dance onstage while Anastasia and Fiona cried laughing.
I covered my face with both hands.
Why is my brain like this?
I rolled around the bed until I got tired and stared at the ceiling again. My room was quiet. Peaceful. Completely normal. Meanwhile, my life was anything but normal.
No messages from anyone tonight. Not even Theodore.
He sent the draft earlier and nothing more after that.
Good.
If he messaged again, I might panic and reply something weird like:
"yes i agree with the design thank you okay bye I will go hide under my bed."
I sighed and stood up to prepare my things for tomorrow's meeting. I practiced my lines in front of the mirror.
"Hello, everyone. Today we will finalize the draft—"
I cringed.
"Too formal," I muttered.
I tried again.
"Good morning! Um, I have the decorations list and—"
Nope. I sounded like I was presenting a project in kindergarten.
I placed both hands on my cheeks.
"Sab… calm down… just act normal…"
I inhaled deeply.
"Hi—"
And my pen fell off the table.
I glared at it.
"Traitor."
I picked it up, repeated my greeting lines, then stopped.
I wasn't improving.
I was embarrassing myself alone in my room.
A notification suddenly popped up.
The group chat.
"GIRLYYYYYYYYYYYY" – Anastasia
"WE ALMOST FORGOT" – Fiona
Oh no.
I braced myself.
Anastasia: "ARE YOU READY TO SEE PRESIDENT VIOR TOMORROW???"
Fiona: "sab answer honestly be honest or I'll come to your house NOW"
Anastasia: "she's blushing I KNOW SHE IS"
Fiona: "SHE IS SHE TOTALLY IS"
I threw my phone on the bed, face red.
"I AM NOT BLUSHING—"
I definitely was.
My phone buzzed again.
Anastasia: "Goodnight future Mrs. Vior 😏💕"
Fiona: "PRESIDENT'S WIFE ERA LET'S GOOOOOOO"
I covered myself with a pillow and screamed silently.
Why are my friends like this?
I replied:
"STO P."
My fingers were shaking. I corrected it.
"STOP."
They sent fifty laughing emojis.
I gave up and ignored them.
I slid under the covers, hugging my pillow like a comfort item. My room lights glowed softly, and everything felt warm and safe—but my thoughts? A chaotic circus.
Tomorrow's meeting…
The final design…
And the marriage…
Four weeks.
Just four more weeks.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everything and yet… a weird flutter in my chest at the same time.
I didn't know what that meant.
I didn't want to think too hard.
So I closed my eyes, still blushing from my friends' teasing, mind replaying Theodore's calm voice and the reality waiting for me in December.
The last thing I remembered before sleep stole me was whispering:
"…I hope I don't trip tomorrow…"
And just like that, I drifted off, mid-thought—
the quiet before whatever tomorrow will bring.