Amelia's POV
I stepped into the university, the familiar buzz of activity surrounding me. Students rushed past, their faces a mix of determination and anxiety as they headed to their classes. I spotted France, Maya, and Rose waiting by the entrance, their excitement palpable as they chatted animatedly.
"Hey, guys," I called out, making my way over to them.
"Amelia!" Maya exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Can you believe the competition is finally here? We're so excited to show our project!"
France nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, we've been working so hard on our proposal. It's going to blow everyone away."
Rose turned to me, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "How are your preparations going, Amelia?"
Guilt gnawed at my heart, but I forced a smile. "Let's see how it goes," I said, trying to sound upbeat.
They all nodded, their excitement undimmed. We began to discuss our projects, their ideas, and our hopes for the competition. Despite the guilt lurking beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel a spark of anticipation for what lay ahead.
......
We were all in our new uniforms, crisp and pristine, ready for the big day. The grand hallway leading to the main auditorium was buzzing with energy. The usual chairs were replaced with desks, each adorned with detailed files of our business proposals, marked by group numbers. Ours was 19A: me and Aiden.
I hadn't seen Aiden yet, but as I arranged the final touches on our display, I suddenly felt a shift in the room's energy. Looking up, I saw him entering the hallway with that signature air of dominance, his friends trailing behind him. His hands were casually tucked in his pockets as he strode toward me. Wait. He was coming straight to me. And he was smiling. Aiden, smiling. This was surreal.
"You know, Amelia," he began, his voice calm but firm, "there have been a lot of complexities in our relationship. From the day you entered, we've been entangled in this mess of hatred, but here we are, making a project together. And I'm confident it's a great one. We will impress the judges."
Guilt twisted in my stomach, but I fought it down. Why should I feel guilty? He was the one who did all the bad things. I deserved to take at least one revenge for everything he put me through.
"I have to say something," Aiden continued, his tone suddenly serious. "Something very important. Something I've wanted to say for a long time."
I looked at him, puzzled. "What?"
"I'll tell you after the competition," he replied.
"No, wait," I almost shouted, my curiosity piqued. "I need to know now. Otherwise, my stomach is going to hurt from the suspense. So, don't make me wait."
He shook his head, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "After the competition, as I said."
I sighed, frustration bubbling up inside me. What I'm planning to do... he won't even want to see my face after that. So, whatever he has to say, I probably won't get to hear it.
Aiden was still smiling. Seeing him smile was like witnessing the moon and the sun together-an impossible rarity. I looked at him once more, bewildered. "Why are you smiling?"
He raised an eyebrow. "And now you have a problem with me smiling?"
I frowned, mimicking his expression. "I mean, it's not you. I feel like I'm standing with someone else because Aiden smiling are totally two different things."
He chuckled softly, a sound that was even more disconcerting. Oh my god, he was chuckling. He was either in a very good mood or had hit his head somewhere, and I was leaning toward the latter. Even if he were in a good mood, he'd probably still want to punch someone's face because that's what he loves to do.
"You're confident, aren't you?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer, more familiar ground.
He looked directly into my eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I am always confident, Amelia."
His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forgot about my plans, the competition, and everything else. There was something unsettling about seeing this side of Aiden, a side that didn't match the domineering persona I knew so well.
The competition started promptly at nine, the grand hallway now fully transformed into a space buzzing with anticipation and ambition. The room was filled with rows of desks, each meticulously arranged with business proposal files, laptops, and presentation boards. A large screen at the front displayed the event's agenda, while spotlights illuminated the judges' table, highlighting the gravity of the occasion.
The judges entered the room, each exuding an aura of authority and sophistication. They were impeccably dressed, their tailored suits and elegant dresses speaking volumes about their status and experience. The first judge, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, wore a charcoal suit paired with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie. His every movement was deliberate, exuding confidence.
The second judge, a woman with a sleek bob, donned a deep emerald dress that accentuated her poised demeanor. Her glasses perched on her nose gave her a look of intellectual sharpness. The third judge, a younger man, perhaps in his early forties, wore a tailored black suit with a maroon tie, his sharp eyes scanning the room with keen interest. Their presence alone commanded respect, and their demeanor suggested a wealth of knowledge in the business world.
As they took their seats, the room fell into a respectful silence. Their expressions were serious, their eyes focused, and their aura screamed "judge." I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration mixed with anxiety. Their first impression was undeniably powerful, setting a high bar for the competition.
Around me, other students were preparing their pitches. I overheard snippets of conversations about various business models, each more innovative than the last. One group had designed a sustainable fashion line that promised to reduce the carbon footprint of the industry by using recycled materials and eco-friendly dyes. Their presentation board was filled with swatches of fabric and detailed diagrams of their production process.
Another team was working on a tech startup aimed at improving mental health through an app that combined AI-driven therapy with community support groups. Their sleek presentation highlighted user interface designs, projected market growth, and testimonials from beta testers. The enthusiasm in their voices was palpable, and it was clear they had poured their hearts into this project.
The hallway itself was adorned with banners and posters showcasing the university's achievements in business and innovation. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed natural light to flood the space, creating a bright and energetic atmosphere. The desks were neatly arranged in rows, each equipped with a nameplate indicating the team number and names of the participants. Our desk, 19A, was situated near the front, close to the judges.
Aiden was still smiling, which was unnerving, but I tried to focus on the task at hand. Our project was solid; we had worked hard, and I was confident in the content, even if I was wrestling with my internal turmoil.
The judges started making their rounds, stopping at each desk to listen to the pitches and ask probing questions. Their professionalism was evident in the way they engaged with each team, offering insights and challenging assumptions. They were not just evaluating; they were pushing us to think deeper, to refine our ideas.
As they approached our desk, I took a deep breath. Aiden's smile had faded, replaced by a look of determined confidence. This was it. The moment we had prepared for. And despite everything, I felt a surge of determination. We could do this.
The judges approached our desk, their serious expressions adding weight to the moment. Aiden stepped forward with a confident smile, launching into our business proposal with the smooth delivery we had practiced countless times. He described our innovative approach, the market research we had conducted, and the potential for growth and impact. The judges listened intently, nodding in approval, their initial impressions clearly positive.
As Aiden continued, I watched the judges' reactions closely. They seemed impressed by our idea and the thoroughness of our model. Aiden's charisma was working its magic, and I could see the judges' interest piquing with each point he made. It was all going smoothly, just as we had hoped.
Then came the moment of truth. The blue file. The most important part of our presentation. The file that contained the detailed breakdown of our proposal-the official model that the competition was based on. This was my creation, the culmination of my hard work, and, more importantly, my meticulously planned revenge.
The lead judge reached for the file and began to flip through the pages. The other judges leaned in, their expressions turning from intrigue to confusion. As they turned more pages, their faces started to change. The satisfaction and interest began to melt away, replaced by something else. Disappointment? Or perhaps the feeling of being made a fool of?
They started turning the pages faster, their movements becoming more abrupt. Aiden's confident smile began to falter, replaced by a slight frown. I could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes. He glanced at me, his expression questioning. I met his gaze, my own face a mask of innocence, but inside, I was waiting, anticipating his reaction when he realized what was happening.
The lead judge finally closed the file with a sharp snap, looking up at us with a mixture of confusion and disapproval. He exchanged glances with the other judges, and they all turned their attention back to us. The air was thick with tension, and I could almost hear the collective breath holding in the room.
"What is the meaning of this?" the lead judge asked, his tone stern. Aiden's frown deepened, and he took a step closer to the desk, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.
"Could you clarify what seems to be the problem?" Aiden asked, his voice steady but with an edge of uncertainty.
The judge looked at him, then back at the file. "This... this content is not what we were expecting. It's... incomplete, and frankly, it seems like a mockery of the competition's standards."
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening. He reached out to take the file from the judge, his movements controlled and precise. He started to skim through the pages, his expression hardening with each turn. Confusion turned to realization, and then to anger.
"What...?" Aiden muttered under his breath. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with accusation. I could see the storm brewing in his mind, the understanding dawning that something had gone terribly wrong. But he didn't know the half of it. He didn't know that this was my doing, my revenge.
"Amelia, what is this?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. The judges watched us intently, their disapproval clear.
I met his gaze, my heart pounding but my face composed. I choose silence
The judges whispered among themselves, their voices too low to catch. Aiden looked back at the file, his hands clenching the edges so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The room seemed to close in around us, the suspense thickening every second.
The lead judge finally looked up, his eyes cold. "We need to discuss this further. Please step back and wait for our decision."
Aiden turned to me, his eyes filled with a mix of fury and disbelief, but he kept his composure. His stance remained strong, his demeanor unyielding. He was not one to show vulnerability, no matter the situation.
"Amelia, we need to talk. Now." His voice was steady, commanding.
I nodded, maintaining my composure, but inside, I felt a grim satisfaction. He wanted to play games? Well, I was done playing. Honestly there's a "but" in my feelings, I took my revenge but I am scared.
Aiden's grip on my wrist was firm as he dragged me out of the auditorium and into the deserted hallway. The silence was deafening, the absence of voices echoing the tension between us. My heart raced in my chest, the adrenaline of the moment sending a rush of nerves through my body.
Aiden released my wrist, but his presence still loomed over me, his demeanor composed despite the storm brewing beneath the surface. He spoke with a measured tone, his words cutting through the silence like a knife.
"We composed this file Amelia," he began, his voice steady and controlled. "I personally checked every detail to ensure it was picture-perfect. And yet, here we stand, with everything in disarray. Care to explain?"
His words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. I met his gaze, trying to match his composure with my own, despite the turmoil churning inside me.
Aiden's expression remained unreadable, his eyes searching mine for any hint of deception.
"How did it feel? I look directly into his eyes saying those words.
Aiden stops, his gaze locked onto me, his expression unreadable as he processes my words. I meet his gaze, my heart racing with a mix of guilt and satisfaction. I want him to feel the burn of his own medicine, to taste the bitterness of his actions.
I summon a smile, though I'm not sure if it's one of genuine satisfaction or a bitter emotion. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he knows I'm not backing down, that I'm owning my actions.
"How does it feel to taste the medicine you've been serving all along?" I ask, my voice laced with a hint of mockery. "You always tell me to forget what happened between us, to move on like we're some kind of good team. But, Aiden, it's not that easy to forget how you've always tried to humiliate me."
I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in before continuing. "Now that the tables have turned, let me tell you, I did this whole thing. From the beginning of the competition, I had a plan. It was the perfect time for revenge, to serve my dish."
I lean in closer, my eyes locking onto his, daring him to deny the truth of my words. "You want me to forget what you did to me? Fine. I'll forget, you forget what I did to you. Then, and only then, will it be fair. This competition was beloved to you so I destroyed it the way you tried to break something I love."