Setting: The quiet, dimly lit interior of Seth’s bedroom inside the male dormitory block during the early evening.
The cool air from the desk fan hums softly, and the room smells faintly of fresh soap and steam.
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Seth: (Steps into my quiet bedroom layout, wrapping a white towel loosely around my damp hair as the cool air from the desk fan hits my skin. I close the bathroom door behind me, letting out a long, slow breath as the refreshing water finally helps clear away the exhausting baseline heat of the day. But the moment my eyes cross the room to focus on my neatly structured bed, my entire system experiences a massive, instantaneous short-circuit. There, resting right on the dark blue blanket, is my smartphone screen—glowing brightly in the dim light because I completely forgot to lock the interface layout before heading into the shower.)
Seth: (Walks over to the edge of the mattress with slow, hesitant steps, my wet sneakers completely silent against the floor tiles. I look straight down at the bright display, my breath catching sharply in my throat. The interface is sitting exactly on the text messaging module, displaying a blank white field with a steady, rhythmically blinking cursor right beneath her name: Cara Mina. Staring at that completely empty text layout, a sudden, familiar wave of intense panic rushes straight up my chest, turning my ears a fierce, burning pink color all over again in the quiet room.)
Seth: (Collapses backward onto the edge of the bed, my wet towel sliding down to rest on my slouched shoulders as I carefully lift the heavy phone into my palm. I hold it right in front of my face, my thumb hovering entirely helplessly over the digital keyboard layout. My logical engineering mind completely breaks down as I run through an endless loop of calculation blocks. I don’t know what to message her. Should I even be the one to message her first, or am I supposed to wait for an incoming signal block from her residential gate? If I initiate the transmission line, what is the exact formula for a normal evening greeting that doesn’t sound completely robotic or disorganized?)
Seth: (Suddenly, a massive, horrifying realization hits my memory core like a violent system crash. My thumb completely freezes flat over the digital keys as my eyes widen in absolute, unfiltered terror. I frantically rewind my thoughts back to last night, replaying the exact sound of her soft voice right before she stepped through the dormitory security gate at midnight. My brain completely uncovers a critical data point that I had totally blanked out during my intense blushing episode: Cara had explicitly told me to message her the exact moment I safely made it back to my room block.)
Seth: (A fierce, blinding crimson blush rushes violently straight up my neck, my jaw dropping as a wave of pure humiliation takes over my system. I didn’t send a single signal line last night. I walked the brief hundred meters back down the western curve, collapsed onto my mattress in a total daze, and let the entire night pass without executing her direct instruction. To a neat, structured education major like Cara Mina, my complete silence for nearly twenty-four hours must look like a total lack of basic courtesy—or worse, an intentional error in our data path.)
Seth: (Types out a rapid string of text into the blank field with white knuckles: “Hi Cara, this is Seth. I just wanted to verify if you arrived safely at your block last night.” I stare at the words for three seconds, my jaw clenching tightly before I aggressively mash the delete key, wiping the data block back down to absolute zero.) “No… Read this novel at novelping dot com for the best experience. that sounds like a rigid automated security report. It’s way too formal. And it doesn’t explain why I forgot to report back last night.” (I mutter to myself in a low, frustrated whisper, pulling my hood up over my damp hair as the intense confusion deepens inside my brain.)
Seth: (Tries again, typing slowly: “Hello neighbor.
I am so sorry for the delay.
I completely forgot to text you last night because my brain was running an error trace…”) (I completely freeze flat on my mattress, my face turning a blazing, absolute crimson fire engine color as Lest’s words from earlier flash violently through my memory: “You are a ridiculously dense guy, Seth!
Seth: (Frantically deletes the entire message layout all over again, tossing the glowing phone face-down onto the soft blanket beside my leg as I place the backs of my hands over my burning eyes. For three full years, I have calibrated every single anomaly in my life with absolute technical precision. But sitting here entirely by myself in the quiet evening light, looking at a simple blank text box while carrying the heavy weight of my midnight mistake, the lone wolf of civil engineering is completely paralyzed, totally unable to compute whether sending a delayed signal will stabilize our parallel path or completely compromise my entire defensive system.)
Seth: (I close my eyes tightly, taking a deep, heavy breath to force my chaotic systems into absolute alignment. For three years, I have run away from every single unpredictable variable. But looking at the orange moon hanging safely from my backpack, and remembering the bright, radiant chuckle face she offered at noon, a brand-new wave of absolute, uncharacteristic courage overrides my defensive lone-wolf walls. I aggressively snatch the phone back into my palm, my fingers flying across the digital keyboard layout before my logical brain can execute another security block.)
Seth: (With a racing pulse and shaking fingertips, I type out a sincere, unfiltered message script directly into her box: “Hi Cara, it’s Seth. I’m really sorry I didn’t message you last night when I got back—my mind completely jammed and I lost track of the protocol. Also, I’m incredibly sorry about what happened at noon with the squad layout. They are completely chaotic and I didn’t mean for you to see me get dragged away like a little kid.”)
Seth: (Stares at the paragraphs on the screen, my face burning a blazing pink color as my thumb hovers over the upward arrow icon. I clench my jaw tight, closing my eyes completely as my thumb forcefully presses the screen, transmitting the data block into the network space before I can delete a single word. I instantly toss the phone onto the mattress, burying my face deep inside my pillow as I wait.)
Seth: (Minute after minute crawls past in agonizing, breathless silence. For ten long minutes, I completely lose my mind, panicking aggressively and rolling back and forth across my bed sheet template. I kick my legs, bury my face in the blankets, and groan loudly into the quiet air columns, completely terrified that I have permanently corrupted our entire interaction path. My technical brain runs a thousand worst-case scenarios, my face staying a hot, blazing crimson fire engine color as the waiting layout feels completely endless.)
Seth: (Suddenly, a sharp, incredibly loud notification ping echoes sharply through the quiet bedroom layout, followed by the violent vibration of my phone rattling against the wooden frame. I completely freeze flat on my stomach, my heart jumping straight into my throat. With trembling, frantic fingers, I snatch the device off the sheet and unlock the screen. My eyes instantly lock onto the flashing notification bar—Cara Mina has officially replied.)
[ END OF CHAPTER 20 ]