The atmosphere on the stone stairs began to shift as the garden lights dimmed automatically, signaling the late hour of the night.
Kayla and Alaric remained sitting side by side, but their conversation had settled into a comfortable silence. Until the sound of footsteps came from behind them.
"Well, look who we have here!"
That familiar energetic voice belonged to Niel Greg, Alaric's father, followed by Tante Marissa's gentle laugh and her husband's baritone voice.
Alaric quickly turned, reflexively standing up from his seat, while Kayla also rose, though hesitantly. Influenced by her instincts and the man's movement beside her.
"Wow, you two seem really close, chatting until you forget the time," Tante Marissa teased, nudging her husband's arm, her smile widening toward Kayla and Alaric.
"You guys are so friendly, talking away like old times."
Alaric scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "Ah… just chatting," he said, even though his ears reddened. Kayla looked down slightly, a smile appearing briefly before she hid it—though not completely.
"Just chatting? You used to hide Kayla's doll until she cried. Now here you are, talking on the hotel garden stairs like teenagers," Niel Greg laughed, lightly patting Alaric's shoulder. Their laughter mingled together.
"Mom…" Kayla murmured softly, as if asking for protection. But Marissa only found her daughter's little pleading expression even more amusing.
"It's late, Kay, time to go home. You have early classes tomorrow, right?" Marissa finally said in a softer tone.
Kayla glanced at Alaric. "I'm leaving first," she said politely, her eyes briefly lifting to meet his face.
"Yeah, be careful on your way," Alaric replied quickly, watching her walk slowly toward the parking lot. Her steps matched those of her parents guiding her from both sides.
For a moment, Kayla looked back, then quickly averted her gaze when their eyes met briefly. Alaric stood still, watching her figure disappear behind the rows of cars.
"Come on Ric, let's head home too. Otherwise, you'll end up ordering an online ride after us," Niel Greg joked again as he headed toward their parked car nearby. Alaric let out a quiet sigh but followed his father nonetheless.
Once inside the car and the engine started, silence filled the space briefly. Streetlights reflected faintly on the windows as the vehicle slowly left the hotel grounds.
"What did you talk about with Kayla?" Niel asked while keeping his eyes on the road, his tone probing.
"Uh… just light stuff. College, childhood memories," Alaric answered casually, staring at the quieting streets.
"Oh, childhood memories, huh," Niel teased with a chuckle, "Have you turned over a new leaf, Ric? You used to be so mischievous with her. Remember when you threw her toys on the roof?"
Alaric sighed and rubbed his face, then laughed softly. "Oh man… don't bring that up, Dad. That was a long time ago… I was just a kid… didn't know any better."
"Not that you didn't know," his father cut in, shaking his head slowly, "You were just naturally mischievous. Even Peter, the gardener, you used to prank. When he was watering the plants, you'd sneak up and soak him with the hose. Luckily, he was patient."
"Oh gosh… all my childhood embarrassments brought up tonight," Alaric said, rubbing his face with both hands.
"Not embarrassments, Ric," his father said, "Those are memories. Sometimes small things like that are what make us laugh again after being tired. Especially now, seeing you grown up, thoughtful, composed, and able to make others comfortable to talk to like just now."
Alaric fell silent. His father's words were brief but hit home. He glanced sideways to look at his dad's face.
"That's why you have to take care, Ric. Whether friendships, work, or… who knows, maybe a new relationship growing unexpectedly."
The car continued moving slowly, leaving the hotel farther behind. Inside, two men shared laughter, memories, and a quiet pause unfilled by complications. Just a piece of old stories framed with smiles.
..
That night after arriving home, Alaric barely resisted the pull of his soft bed. After an evening full of laughter and nostalgia with his father.
Plus an unexpected meeting with Kayla, his body felt heavy. Not from walking too much, but because his mind was crowded again. Business ideas flowed through his chest, and again… about feelings he hadn't named yet.
He briefly opened his laptop on his desk, staring at the blank screen of an untouched design app since that morning. But instead of typing or drawing, his eyes just fixed on the blinking cursor…
Until his eyelids finally gave in to gravity. He took a long breath, closed his eyes, and let the digital world wait a little longer.
"I'll just wake up earlier," he told himself before pulling the blanket over his chest and sinking into a deep sleep.
And sure enough.
The next morning, around 3:17 AM, a soft alarm went off on his phone. Not a sharp piercing sound but a gentle vibration with a light melody, like a small whisper reminding him. That now was the time to create.
The room air was still cold. And the whole house remained asleep. Silence was only broken by the fan and the ticking of the wall clock.
Alaric rose slowly from his bed, pushing the blanket aside, then sat quietly on the edge for a few seconds. Letting himself soak in the stillness.
His hair was still messy, and he hadn't washed his face yet, but one thing immediately set his hands in motion. Reflexively, he opened the laptop that was still in sleep mode on his desk.
As the screen lit up, its bluish glow reflected on his face. His eyes weren't fully awake yet, but something inside started to spark. Like a fuse catching fire.
Alaric reopened his project design files. Several sheets of digital blueprints, visual elements, and business strategy frameworks appeared on the screen. He studied them closely, then smiled faintly.
"Why didn't I think of this yesterday?" he muttered softly, starting to type something on the right side of the screen.
His fingers moved quickly. He added new elements to the presentation. Not just design additions but an interactive concept that would let clients directly experience what he was selling.
Alaric combined lightweight technology accessible via regular gadgets with a demonstration system that didn't require heavy networks. Everything could run smoothly on just a stable connection or even offline.
Then he added a surprise element: "Live User Perspective Simulation." A part of the presentation that would show user experience firsthand from two sides — the client as the user, and the customer as the beneficiary.
"Most presentations just explain. But I'll make them feel it, as if they're the ones using it and benefiting. So they don't just see graphs, but actually step inside."
His hands moved faster. Ideas flowed like a river. Every keystroke seemed to lift the dark veil blocking his mind last night.
But suddenly he paused.
His eyes fixed on a part of the screen he just created, a simple integration of personal user stories with product output.
Then a phrase flashed in his mind.
A phrase that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than creativity alone,
"People don't buy because they need the product. They buy because they feel seen."
He stared at that sentence for a long moment.
And with a slow breath warming the cold morning, Alaric rewrote that section of his concept with a new direction.
One big idea.
One angle no competitor had ever offered.
One thing, if presented right… impossible to be refused by the big clients who had always been tough to sway.
He sat upright.
A small smile blossomed on his pale face still worn down by sleep.
But before he could save the presentation file, a sound came from his system.
An unknown notification.
"External Intervention Mode – Code G.7.1.TA – Unauthorized Access Detected in Your Network."
Alaric tensed.
His eyes narrowed.
His fingers, which had been dancing on the keyboard, slowly lowered… then stopped.
In his mind, one question echoed.
"Is someone watching all this before I could even show it?"
The notification, once a cold line of text in the corner, now turned into a silence that filled the early morning with dread.
"External Intervention Mode – Unauthorized Access Detected"
Source: Unknown ID – Intrusion Status: ACTIVE.
Alaric squinted. His hands stopped typing. He leaned closer to the screen, rereading every system parameter.
And sure enough. Someone, somewhere, had broken in. Quietly copying parts of the, Draft\_Project\_Vision file. The intrusion had lasted almost twenty minutes. He barely noticed, too absorbed in his own thoughts.
Alaric clenched his jaw softly. His face remained calm, but his fingers began typing a bypass script that immediately blocked the backdoor access. He didn't send a virus or reply. This time, he chose the quiet path.
Let them think they won.
Because one thing the intruder didn't realize — everything they copied was just the surface.
He hadn't yet written the most important part. The core. The diamond idea that could change the face of digital education and creative industries in developing countries.
His fingers clicked and closed the old file, then opened a new document labeled:
"Digital Education Reform: Core Proposal"