"We are going to the computer lab for the whole session," the professor announced, her voice carrying across the lecture hall. "Make sure you have your login credentials ready."

Bella was focused. Her eyes were fixed on the professor, her notebook open, her pen in hand. After two days of leave, she was finally back on campus. The break had been necessary because of the stalker, the gift, the note, and the fear. But she couldn’t hide forever.

This time, she came prepared.

Guards were stationed at every entrance of the building. More guards patrolled the campus grounds. A few were even disguised as students, blending in with the crowd, their eyes scanning constantly.

But her best defense was in her bag.

A small CCTV camera, no bigger than a button, was attached to the inside of her bag. It was so small that it didn’t look like a camera at all. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. Zeke had sent it to her after hearing about her situation.

She had thanked him profusely.

Zeke was busy these days. His family business was facing an intense battle between heirs. His cousins were qualified, ambitious, and backed by powerful allies. One cousin had married into a powerful family, and that family was now pressuring the board to support him instead of Zeke.

Zeke had known such days would come. He was a genius in tech and hacking. Years ago, he had secretly established another company, one that operated in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of his family. Most people didn’t know about it, only his closest friends.

Bella felt bad seeing him so stressed. She had been helping him where she could, offering advice, sharing insights, even buying shares in his secret company. It made her one of the silent partners, a stakeholder in something that could one day rival his family’s empire.

But the business battles weren’t the only thing weighing on Zeke. His family was pressuring him to marry.

It was unbearable. His parents had arranged marriages for power and connections, and Zeke hated it. He loved his parents, he couldn’t help it, but he hated watching them fight. Every dinner, every gathering, every holiday ended in arguments about money, about influence, about whose family had more power.

The trauma had shaped him. He didn’t want to marry. He didn’t want to date casually. He had seen what marriage did to his parents: the resentment, the cold silences, the way they stayed together not because they loved each other but because it was convenient.

He longed for someone who understood him. Someone who would take care of him, not because of his money or his name, but because they actually cared. It was a simple dream, but he hadn’t found that person yet.

And the family pressure was making everything worse.

"Bella. Bella!"

Bella blinked. Mira was looking at her, her eyebrows raised.

"Let’s go to the lab," Mira said.

Bella shook her head, coming back to the present. "Sorry. I was lost in thought."

"I noticed." Mira smiled. "Come on. Karl’s already there."

Bella gathered her notebook and pen, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She followed Mira out of the lecture hall, her guards falling into step behind her at a distance.

After classes, Bella, Mira, and Karl walked to a small cafe tucked away on a quiet street near campus. It wasn’t crowded, only a few customers scattered across the tables, speaking in low voices. The lighting was warm, the chairs comfortable, and the smell of fresh coffee hung in the air.

Bella sighed and sank into her seat. After just two days of leave, she had already missed college and her friends terribly.

Mira was already looking at the menu, her glasses slipping down her nose. Karl sat across from them.

A waitress approached their table.

She was young, maybe a few years older than them, with a kind face and a bright smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, with strands escaping everywhere. Her apron was slightly crooked, and she had a small smudge of flour on her cheek.

But what caught Bella’s attention were her eyes.

One was deep brown, warm like honey in sunlight. The other was a pale, striking blue, like ice on a winter morning. Mismatched, unusual, and beautiful.

"What can I get for you?" the waitress asked, her voice cheerful. She had a notepad in her hand, but it was upside down.

Bella ordered a cold coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Mira ordered tea and a croissant. Karl ordered black coffee, nothing else.

The waitress scribbled on her notepad sideways, smiled brightly, and turned to leave. She walked straight into a chair.

"Oops," she said, rubbing her hip. "Sorry, chair."

The chair, of course, didn’t respond.

She laughed at herself and continued to the counter, this time avoiding the furniture.

Mira stared after her. "Is she okay?"

"I think so," Bella said.

Karl picked up a menu. "She’s just enthusiastic."

The waitress disappeared behind the counter, and they could hear her knocking something over. A clatter. A soft "oh no." Then a crash.

Bella winced.

A few moments later, the waitress emerged from the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, carrying a tray laden with their orders. She walked carefully, slowly, her lips tightened in a straight line in concentration.

She set the cold coffee in front of Bella, the tea in front of Mira, the black coffee in front of Karl. Then she placed a slice of chocolate cake in the center of the table.

"Here," she said, her mismatched eyes bright. "I didn’t drop anything this time."

Bella smiled. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome. Ma’am. Sirs." She nodded at Karl, then at Mira, then back at Bella. Her gaze lingered on Bella’s face.

"You have really pretty hair," the waitress blurted out.

Bella blinked. "Thank you."

"Like, really pretty. Is it natural?"

"Yes."

"That’s amazing. Mine is natural too. Well, most of it. The front parts are natural. The back is..." She paused, frowning. "Actually, all of it is natural. I think."

Mira exchanged a glance with Karl. Is this waitress mentally not okay?

The waitress tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, missed, and tucked again. "Anyway. Enjoy your food. If you need anything, just wave. Or call out. Or throw something. I’ll hear it. Probably."

She turned to leave, walked two steps, then turned back. "Oh! I forgot to give you napkins." She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a handful of napkins. Some were folded. Some were crumpled. One had a small doodle of a cat on it.

She set them on the table. "There. Now you have napkins."

"Thank you," Bella said again.

"You’re welcome. Again." The waitress smiled, then hurried back to the counter, nearly tripping over her own feet.