I told myself I was calm.
I said it in my head like a prayer I had practiced for years. Calm meant control. Calm meant I could breathe. Calm meant I would not embarrass myself in front of the whole university, in front of sponsors and cameras and those smiling strangers who acted like they were here for "youth" and "talent" when really they were here to decide who was worth turning into an advertisement.
Calm meant I would not look around and search for one person's eyes like I was desperate.
But my heart betrayed me the moment the announcer said Queen Selection would begin shortly.
It was not the stage lights. It was not the crowd. It was not even the music fading down into that polite, suspenseful hush. It was the fact that the list was closed. No more late registrations. No more changes. No more "maybe."
This was the version of reality that could not be undone.
Behind the staging curtain, the air felt warmer than it should have. Too many bodies, too much perfume, too much hairspray, too many nerves disguised as laughter. Girls clustered in small circles like islands. Some fixed each other's hair, some practiced smiles in phone cameras, some pretended not to care while checking their reflections every two minutes.
I kept my hands busy because if my hands were still, my mind would run.
I smoothed my dress near my waist, checked the clasp of my bracelet, adjusted the edge of my hair that kept slipping forward. Small tasks. Tiny anchors.
Someone laughed too loudly behind me and my shoulders tightened.
I hated how easy it was for this kind of room to turn people into versions of themselves they did not recognize.
A staff member walked past, holding a clipboard, eyes scanning like a strict teacher. "Candidates, please line up according to number."
Numbers.
Even here, they wanted us to be ordered.
I moved automatically, stepping into place, heels clicking softly against the floor. I felt the weight of other girls near me, their presence like heat. Somewhere behind us, the muffled roar of the ballroom crowd rolled through the curtain like distant waves.
I did not look out yet.
If I looked too early, I would start measuring the room. I would start guessing where the cameras were aimed. I would start wondering who was watching.
And I would start wondering if he was watching.
I felt Kitty before I saw her.
That sounds ridiculous, but it is true. Kitty had a way of entering spaces without forcing it. She did not burst into a room. She arrived like soft light, like the moment you realize the sun has been out for a while and you did not notice because you were too busy thinking.
She stepped into line a few spots away from me, posture composed, chin slightly lifted, hair settled perfectly. She looked like she belonged on a billboard without trying.
People called her the uncrowned queen of Campus 2 long before this festival existed.
I used to laugh when I heard it.
Now, it tasted bitter.
Kitty caught my eye and gave me a small smile. Not smug. Not cruel. Just gentle. Like she was saying, we are in this together.
And for a second, my chest softened.
Because she was my friend. Because she had been there when I was tired. Because she listened when other people only talked. Because she knew how to be warm without being loud.
And because of that, I hated myself for the jealousy that still lived inside me.
Not hatred for her. Not resentment. Something worse.
Fear.
Fear that she could take what I wanted without even meaning to.
A whisper stirred near the front of the line.
"HTN is here."
Of course she was.
HTN stepped behind the curtain with two other girls, Thoon and SRM trailing like they owned the hallway. They were not from our track. They were from the majors that always acted like they were older, richer, louder. Engineering, business, whatever the labels were, they wore them like crowns on normal days.
HTN looked at the line and smirked as if she was judging a menu.
Thoon spoke first, eyes bright with mean amusement. "So this is the Health Track parade."
SRM laughed softly. "Cute."
I kept my face neutral. I did not react. I would not give them the satisfaction.
But Thoon's gaze slid past me, landed on Kitty, lingered, then returned to me again.
"You really think you can win," she said, like she was tasting the words.
I did not answer.
She leaned closer, voice low enough that only a few could hear. "You all chase one guy for months and still can't claim him."
My throat tightened.
Thoon continued, smiling wider. "I can make guys wrap around my finger in one week."
HTN tilted her head, lazy and cruel. "Three days for me."
SRM looked at Kitty and clicked her tongue. "A shy kiss and that's it? Oh girl, you need lessons."
Kitty's expression did not change. Her eyes stayed calm, but her fingers curled slightly around the edge of her dress.
I felt my pulse rise, sharp and hot.
I turned my head toward Thoon. "I'm not like you," I said quietly.
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
I kept my voice even, but the words came out like a blade. "I'm not a slut like you, so I don't behave like that."
The air snapped.
For a moment, even the girls around us went silent. That kind of line was a grenade. Once thrown, it could not be returned to your hand.
Thoon's smile froze, then twisted.
HTN's eyes narrowed, amused rather than offended. Like she liked seeing someone finally show teeth.
SRM let out a low laugh. "Oh, she's brave."
My stomach flipped, but I did not take it back. I could not take it back. Pride is not always smart. Pride is sometimes survival.
Kitty shifted slightly, stepping closer without touching me. It was a silent support. A quiet alignment. Not a hug. Not a dramatic gesture. Just presence.
I exhaled through my nose, trying to steady the shaking inside my ribs.
A staff member's voice cut through. "Ten minutes."
Ten minutes until the stage.
Ten minutes until my smile would become public property.
Ten minutes until the crown became real.
I swallowed, and my mind betrayed me again.
Not with the stage.
With him.
XH.
I saw him standing near the side of the ballroom earlier, hands in his pockets, watching the room like he was trying to memorize it. Like he knew, somehow, that nights like this did not repeat exactly. That they only happened once, then turned into memories you could never correct.
He danced with me.
He danced with Kitty too, briefly, during the swap.
I told myself it did not mean anything. That it was just a festival game, a silly partner shuffle.
But I remembered the way his eyes had looked at her.
Not intense. Not dramatic.
Just… soft.
Like his guard lowered without him realizing.
And when I think of XH, I do not only think of romance. I think of the way he listens. The way he carries things without complaining. The way he can laugh hard with the boys and then go quiet alone by a window, like there is a second life inside him nobody fully sees.
I wanted that second life to include me.
That was the truth.
But love, for me, had never been a fairy tale. Love had always been a contract with reality.
Don't expect too much from someone.
That was my definition. It was not romantic, but it kept you alive.
If you expect too much, you break when they fail you.
If you expect too much, you become a begging person, always reaching, always disappointed.
So I taught myself to want quietly.
To feel privately.
To act like I was above it.
That was why I looked confident.
That was why people thought I was untouchable.
Because I was terrified of being the girl who wanted someone and was not chosen.
And tonight, under these lights, the idea of not being chosen felt like humiliation that could echo forever.
A curtain rustled. A gap opened for a second. I saw a slice of the ballroom.
The crowd was larger than I expected. Cameras pointed toward the stage. Students from all majors packed together, hungry for drama the way people get hungry for food when they have waited too long. The university had turned this into a spectacle because spectacles make people forget rumors.
Rumors like the ones that always chased private universities. Rumors about legitimacy. Rumors about scams. Rumors that floated around every year like bad weather that never fully cleared.
Tonight, they wanted shine.
Tonight, they wanted noise.
Tonight, they wanted a queen.
My eyes scanned the crowd without permission.
I saw NC near the front, holding her phone steady, smiling calmly. Jihye was beside her, bouncing slightly, excitement written across her face like she was watching an idol audition.
Anna sat nearby, whispering to someone, eyes bright.
Cherry was farther back, arms crossed, chin raised, expression unreadable. Even when she supported someone, she did it like she was doing you a favor.
Then my gaze found the Health Track boys.
TZ and HS stood close, talking in low tones. Andrew held a notebook under one arm like he belonged in a coach's corner even though this was not a game.
JP was animated, waving at someone, probably already trying to turn tonight into a story he could exaggerate later.
NS stood straighter than everyone else. King sash gone, but the energy remained. Like he had been marked by the title even if he refused to wear it.
And then I saw XH.
He was not in the center of the crowd.
But the crowd still bent around him.
He looked up, and for one second, our eyes met.
My breath stalled.
He did not smile widely. He did not wave. He just looked at me as if he was saying, I'm here. I see you. Do what you need to do.
That look hit me harder than applause.
Because it was quiet.
Because it was not ownership.
Because it was support without promise.
And that was exactly why I wanted more.
I hated that I wanted more.
The staff member spoke again. "Five minutes."
My palms were damp. I wiped them discreetly against my dress, then immediately regretted it, checking for any sign of stain.
Kitty glanced at me. "You okay?" she whispered.
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah."
She did not look convinced. Her eyes softened.
For a second, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to confess that I felt like I was standing on a thin bridge between pride and heartbreak. That I was afraid of losing, not because losing a crown mattered, but because losing would make people believe I was not worth choosing.
But I could not say it.
Because if I said it out loud, it would become real.
So instead I said the safest thing.
"Don't worry about me," I whispered. "Just… do your best."
Kitty's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to respond with something deeper.
But the curtain moved.
And the stage lights brightened.
We were called forward in order.
My number.
My feet moved without my permission.
As I stepped toward the curtain opening, I felt the air change.
It was colder out there.
Or maybe it was just the fear.
I crossed the threshold, and the ballroom sound rushed into me like a wave.
Applause hit my ears. Cameras flashed. The crowd's faces blurred together into one shifting mass of expectation.
I walked toward the center of the stage, smile practiced, posture straight.
Inside, my mind screamed: Don't trip. Don't blink too long. Don't look nervous. Don't look desperate.
I stood under the spotlight.
The emcee asked a question.
A simple one.
"What does love mean to you?"
For a second, my throat went tight.
Because love was the thing I had been trying to control all year.
Because love was the thing that made every decision dangerous.
Because love was the thing that made me feel both powerful and pathetic.
I inhaled.
And I answered the truth I had been living by.
"Love," I said, voice steady, "is not expecting too much from someone. It's knowing people are human. It's choosing to stay anyway, even when you're disappointed."
The room murmured, impressed by the maturity. Phones recorded. Sponsors nodded like they liked the word "realistic."
But inside me, another truth rose like a shadow.
Love is the thing I expect too much from, even when I say I don't.
The applause came.
I bowed slightly.
As I stepped back, the spotlight moved on.
Other girls took their turns. HTN delivered confidence like it was a product she had perfected. Thoon performed charm like a weapon. SRM smiled like she had already won.
Then Kitty stepped onto the stage.
The room changed again.
People leaned forward.
Because Kitty did not chase attention.
Attention chased her.
She stood under the spotlight, calm, and for a moment she looked less like a student and more like someone the world had already decided to admire.
And I felt the crown become real.
Not because it was near.
But because I could suddenly imagine it not being mine.
I watched Kitty speak, and my chest tightened with something I could not name without shame.
Friendship. Rivalry. Fear. Love.
All tangled together like wires.
Applause rose.
Kitty bowed.
And as she stepped back toward the line, our eyes met again.
She smiled at me.
Like she did not realize she had just shaken the ground beneath my feet.
Or maybe she did.
Maybe she felt it too.
Behind the applause, behind the lights, behind the cheers, I sensed that silent figure near the back of the room again.
My mother.
Watching.
Measuring.
And somewhere in that pressure, the future felt like it was already pulling me forward, even if I tried to stay in the present.
For a strange second, I thought of rain.
Not the gentle kind.
The kind that starts slow and then turns heavy without warning.
The kind that changes the shape of a night.
I swallowed hard.
Because I suddenly understood something I did not want to admit.
Tonight was not just a festival.
It was a door.
And once it opened, I would not get to choose what walked through it.
Not fully.
Not forever.
The spotlight moved again.
The emcee's voice rose.
"Next candidate."
The stage kept turning.
But my heart did not.
It stayed stuck between two truths.
One that I could say out loud.
And one that I would carry quietly until it hurt.
Until it broke.
Until it became a memory I could not fix.
And somewhere out there, in the crowd, XH kept watching.
Not like he was cheering for my crown.
Like he was watching to see if I would survive the moment the crown became real.