Monday morning arrived with clear blue skies, but Ariana couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something was about to go wrong.
It wasn’t the kind of feeling she could explain.
Nothing obvious had happened.
No bad news had arrived.
No one had called her in the middle of the night.
The campus looked normal from her dorm window—students crossing the courtyard with backpacks slung over their shoulders, sunlight glinting off the glass buildings, a few birds hopping along the stone path near the fountain.
And yet, Ariana had woken up with a knot in her stomach.
She stood in front of the mirror in her dorm room, tying her hair into a loose ponytail, then undoing it, then tying it again.
“You’ve been staring at yourself for five minutes,” Maya said, looking up from her laptop.
“I have not.”
“You’ve tied your hair three different ways.”
Ariana sighed and let her hands fall to her sides.
“I’m just nervous.”
Maya tilted her head.
“About the Innovation Festival?”
Ariana nodded.
Professor Hayes had announced that every team would present their first working prototype in just two weeks.
It wasn’t the final competition, but it was important enough that faculty members, senior engineering students, and even a few outside sponsors would attend.
It was the kind of event that could make a project look promising—or expose every flaw in it.
Failure wasn’t an option.
Especially not for Team Seven.
Maya closed her laptop and sat up straighter.
“You’ve been doing great, you know.”
Ariana gave her a doubtful look.
“I’m serious,” Maya said.
“You helped design the interface, fixed the sensor feedback loop, and somehow managed to keep Ethan from turning into a robot himself.”
Ariana laughed despite herself.
“That last part is not true.”
“It is absolutely true.”
Ariana looked back at the mirror, but her reflection didn’t make her feel any calmer.
“I just don’t want to mess this up.”
Maya’s expression softened.
“You won’t.”
Ariana nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced.
The engineering workshop was already alive with activity when Ariana arrived.
The room smelled faintly of metal, solder, and coffee.
Tools were scattered across the main workbench.
A half-disassembled prototype sat in the center like a patient on an operating table.
Whiteboards lined the walls, covered in diagrams, arrows, equations, and notes written in different handwriting styles.
Noah was balancing a screwdriver between his fingers like it was a magic trick.
Claire was reviewing notes with perfect posture, her expression calm and focused, every page in her binder neatly aligned.
Ethan stood near the main workbench, sleeves rolled up, carefully checking the robot’s arm joints with the kind of concentration that made him look even more serious than usual.
When Ariana stepped inside, Ethan looked up almost immediately.
“You’re early,” he said.
Ariana blinked.
“So are you.”
He gave a small shrug.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
That surprised her.
Ethan always looked so composed, so steady, as if nothing could ever disturb him.
Hearing that he had been restless too made him seem a little more human, a little less untouchable.
Noah noticed the exchange and grinned.
“Wow,” he said loudly.
“This is getting suspiciously domestic.”
Claire didn’t even look up from her notes.
“Can you ever speak normally?”
“No.”
Ariana tried not to laugh.
Ethan, however, gave Noah a flat look.
“If you have time to make jokes, you have time to check the battery housing.”
Noah saluted lazily.
“Yes, boss.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Yes, boss.”
Ariana shook her head, smiling despite herself.
For a moment, the workshop felt almost peaceful.
Then Professor Hayes entered, carrying a stack of folders.
“Good.
Everyone’s here.”
She placed the folders on the table and looked around the room with the sharp, assessing gaze of someone who expected excellence and usually got it.
“I’ve reviewed your progress reports.
Your concept is strong, but the prototype still needs refinement.
The festival committee will expect something functional, polished, and innovative.”
Noah raised a hand.
“So basically, no pressure.”
Professor Hayes gave him a flat look.
“Exactly.”
A few students chuckled.
Then her expression softened slightly.
“I know this team has had a rocky start.
But you’ve already shown that you can work well together.
Keep that momentum.”
Her gaze lingered briefly on Ariana and Ethan before she turned to leave.
“Presentation rehearsal is Friday.
I expect to see real progress by then.”
The door closed behind her.
For a moment, the room was quiet.
Then Noah groaned and dropped into a chair.
“Friday?
That’s practically tomorrow in engineering time.”
Claire flipped a page in her notebook.
“Then we should stop wasting time.”
Ethan nodded.
“Agreed.”
Ariana moved toward the workbench and opened her laptop.
“Let’s review the sensor calibration first.”
The morning passed in a blur of measurements, code adjustments, and mechanical testing.
Ariana worked on the software interface while Ethan fine-tuned the robot’s movement.
Noah handled the battery system, muttering to himself as he checked voltage levels and replaced a loose connector.
Claire organized the presentation outline with ruthless efficiency, making sure every point had a purpose and every slide had a clear structure.
At first, everything went smoothly.
The robot responded to commands.
The arm lifted.
The wheels turned.
The screen displayed the correct readings.
Ariana even allowed herself a small breath of relief when the voice-assistance module activated without delay.
“See?” Noah said, leaning back with a grin.
“We’re basically geniuses.”
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Claire replied.
“Why not?”
“Because every time you celebrate too early, something breaks.”
Noah placed a hand over his heart.
“That is deeply offensive.”
Ethan didn’t look up from the robot.
“She’s not wrong.”
Noah pointed at him.
“Traitor.”
Ariana smiled faintly as she typed a few lines of code into her laptop.
Then, during one test run, the robot suddenly jerked sideways and crashed into the edge of the table.
Ariana gasped.
“Ethan—”
He was already there, catching the machine before it fell completely.
His hands were steady, but his jaw tightened as he set it upright again.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he muttered.
Noah frowned and leaned closer.
“The motor output looked normal.”
Claire stepped toward the screen.
“Maybe the command sequence glitched.”
Ariana quickly checked the code, scrolling through the lines with growing confusion.
“No…
the software is fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Positive.”
He didn’t say anything, but something in his expression tightened.
Ariana noticed it immediately.
“Do you think I made a mistake?”
Ethan blinked.
“What?
No.”
“You looked like you did.”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated.
“Nothing important.”
That answer stung more than it should have.
Ariana turned back to the laptop, pretending not to care, though her fingers had gone stiff on the keyboard.
Noah, sensing the tension, cleared his throat.
“Okay, great, so the robot is haunted.
Can we move on before it starts speaking Latin?”
Claire ignored him.
“We need to inspect the wiring.”
Ethan nodded once, but Ariana could feel the shift in the room.
The easy rhythm they had built over the past few days had cracked, just slightly.
And she hated how quickly she noticed.
By lunchtime, the team had split into smaller tasks.
Noah went to fetch replacement parts from the storage room and, according to him, “possibly also snacks if the universe was kind.”
Claire left for a Student Council meeting, promising to return with updated presentation guidelines and a list of faculty expectations.
Ethan stayed behind to examine the robot’s internal frame.
Ariana remained at the computer, reviewing the logs again and again.
Something about the crash bothered her.
The code had been correct.
The battery levels were stable.
The sensors had responded normally.
The robot had been functioning perfectly right up until the moment it jerked sideways.
So why had it happened?
She scrolled through the system records one more time.
Then she noticed it.
A tiny gap in the timestamp.
One file had been accessed at 7:42 a.m., before anyone else had arrived.
Ariana frowned.
That was strange.
She clicked the log open, but the file had already been overwritten by the next update.
Someone had changed something.
Her stomach tightened.
“Ethan,” she called quietly.
He looked up from the robot’s frame.
“What is it?”
She turned the laptop toward him.
“Look at this.”
He stepped closer and studied the screen, his brows drawing together as he read the timestamp.
“Someone accessed the system before we got here.”
“Exactly.”
His expression darkened.
“Could it have been a maintenance check?”
“No.
The access code was from our team folder.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“Then someone on the team touched it.”
Ariana nodded slowly.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
The workshop suddenly felt colder.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Somewhere in the hallway, a door slammed shut.
The ordinary sounds of campus life continued outside, but inside the workshop, everything seemed to narrow to that one screen and the ugly possibility it suggested.
Someone had been in their system.
Someone had hidden it.
And someone had wanted them to miss it.
When Noah returned, carrying a box of spare components and a paper bag that definitely contained snacks, Ariana immediately showed him the log.
He whistled softly.
“Well, that’s not creepy at all.”
Claire came back a few minutes later and found them gathered around the laptop.
“What’s going on?”
Ethan explained the issue in a calm, clipped voice.
Claire’s face remained unreadable as she listened.
“Are you accusing someone of tampering with the prototype?” she asked.
“I’m saying the logs were altered,” Ariana replied carefully.
Claire folded her arms.
“That doesn’t prove sabotage.”
“No,” Ariana said, “but it proves someone accessed the system without telling us.”
Noah looked between them.
“Okay, let’s not start a courtroom drama.
Maybe we should just check the backup drive.”
Ethan nodded.
“Good idea.”
He reached for the external drive connected to the workstation and opened the folder.
His face changed almost immediately.
The backup files were missing.
Ariana stared.
“What?”
Ethan checked again, clicking through the directory with increasing urgency.
“They’re gone.”
Noah blinked.
“Gone how?”
“Deleted.”
Silence.
Then Claire spoke, her voice sharp.
“That means someone intentionally removed them.”
Ariana’s pulse quickened.
“Why would anyone do that?”
No one answered.
Because the answer was obvious.
Someone wanted the prototype to fail.
Or worse—someone wanted one of them to take the blame.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a tense haze.
They searched the workshop, checked the storage cabinets, and reviewed the security camera schedule.
Ariana even crouched behind the supply shelves, half expecting to find a hidden flash drive or a note tucked behind a box of cables.
Nothing.
The building’s hallway camera had been offline for maintenance since the weekend.
Too convenient.
Too perfect.
Noah muttered darkly that the universe clearly had a personal grudge against engineering students.
Claire, for once, didn’t argue with him.
By the time evening came, everyone was frustrated.
Noah slumped in a chair and dragged both hands down his face.
“I hate mysteries.
They’re exhausting.”
Claire rubbed her temples.
“We need to rebuild the backup manually.”
Ethan nodded, though his jaw was tight.
Ariana could feel the distance growing between them.
He wasn’t looking at her the way he had before.
Not with warmth.
Not with trust.
Just suspicion.
It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
She told herself she was imagining it.
She told herself he was just stressed.
But the silence between them felt heavier than any argument.
Finally, Ethan spoke.
“Ariana, can I talk to you outside?”
Her heart skipped.
“Sure.” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
They stepped into the hallway, where the fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead and the polished floor reflected their shadows in pale strips of white.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
The corridor was empty except for a janitor pushing a cart at the far end and the distant sound of students laughing somewhere down the hall.
Then Ethan asked, “Did you touch the system this morning?”
Ariana stared at him.
“What?”
“The logs show the access came from your terminal.”
Her mouth fell open.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I know the file was altered, but the access code was linked to your login.”
Ariana felt her face grow hot.
“So now you think I deleted the backup?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Ethan exhaled slowly, clearly trying to stay calm.
“Ariana, I’m just trying to understand what happened.”
“So am I.”
Her voice shook despite her effort to keep it steady.
“I came in early to review the code.
That’s all.”
“Then why was your terminal the one used?”
“I don’t know!”
The words echoed down the hallway.
Ariana immediately regretted raising her voice, but the hurt had already surfaced, sharp and humiliating.
Ethan looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said quietly, “I believe you.”
She blinked.
He continued, “But someone is trying to make it look like you made a mistake.”
That should have comforted her.
Instead, it made everything worse.
Because if someone was framing her, then the situation was bigger than she thought.
And if Ethan had even briefly suspected her…
She didn’t know how to fix that.
She looked away first.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she couldn’t bear to see what might be in his expression.
Later that night, Ariana stayed behind in the workshop after everyone else left.
Noah had gone to basketball practice.
Claire had left with a stack of notes and a promise to “look into the camera maintenance schedule.” Ethan had said he needed to check the hardware inventory, though Ariana suspected he had also needed a reason to leave before the tension between them got worse.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the occasional click of Ariana’s keyboard.
She sat at the computer, staring at the corrupted files.
Her mind kept replaying Ethan’s expression.
Not anger.
Not exactly.
Something more complicated.
Disappointment, maybe.
Or fear.
She hated that she couldn’t tell the difference.
She hated even more that she cared.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
She turned.
Ethan stood in the doorway, holding two paper cups of coffee.
“I figured you might still be here.”
Ariana looked away.
“You were right.”
He stepped inside and set one cup beside her.
“I shouldn’t have sounded accusatory.”
She gave a small, bitter laugh.
“You only asked a question.”
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
That made her look up.
He was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his expression unusually serious.
“I know you wouldn’t sabotage the project,” he said.
“I just…
I don’t like not knowing who did.”
Ariana swallowed.
“Neither do I.”
He nodded once.
Then, after a pause, he said, “We’ll figure it out.”
The certainty in his voice steadied her a little.
“Together?”
He met her eyes.
“Together.”
For a brief moment, the tension between them eased.
The workshop felt less cold.
The silence felt less empty.
Ariana even managed a small breath that didn’t hurt as much as the last few had.
But then she noticed something near the edge of the desk.
A folded piece of paper.
She frowned and picked it up.
It was a printed note, torn from a larger sheet.
Only one sentence was visible:
Trust the wrong person, and everything falls apart.
Ariana’s breath caught.
“Ethan…”
He stepped closer and read the note over her shoulder.
His face hardened instantly.
“This was here before?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Neither of them spoke.
The workshop suddenly felt far too quiet.
The coffee in Ariana’s hand had gone cold.
The overhead lights buzzed faintly.
Somewhere outside, a door opened and shut, but the sound seemed impossibly distant.
Someone had been here.
Someone had left a warning.
And whoever it was, they were watching them very closely.
Ethan took the note from her hand and studied it again, his expression unreadable.
Ariana could feel her pulse in her throat.
“Do you think it’s from whoever tampered with the files?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
His answer was immediate, but not reassuring.
He looked toward the darkened windows, then back at the note.
“This isn’t just about the prototype anymore.”
Ariana hugged her arms around herself.
“No,” she whispered.
It wasn’t.
And for the first time since joining Team Seven, she felt something colder than stress or embarrassment settle deep in her chest.
Fear.
Not of failing the festival.
Not of disappointing Professor Hayes.
Fear that someone was deliberately trying to turn them against each other.
Fear that it was already working.
Ethan folded the note carefully and slipped it into his pocket.
“We’re not leaving this alone,” he said.
Ariana nodded, though her throat felt tight.
“No.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and something in his expression softened just enough to make her chest ache.
“We’ll find out who did this.”
She wanted to believe him.
She did believe him.
That was the worst part.
Because trust, once shaken, didn’t disappear all at once.
It cracked.
It splintered.
And even when you tried to hold it together, you could still feel the break.
Outside, the campus lights glowed against the darkening sky.
Inside the workshop, Ariana and Ethan stood side by side in the silence, both of them staring at the same note, both of them realizing that someone had just declared war on their team.
And neither of them knew yet how close the next blow would be.