Isn't February supposed to be the Monday of the year? Then why on earth was campus buzzing with energy? Usually, you'd find people sprawled on the grass, procrastinating and collectively hating the month. But this year, every corner and every nook was bursting with red—paper hearts, loud Valentine chatter, and an over-the-top kind of cheer. I had almost forgotten about the countdown, and now, trying to weave through the crowd without being swept away by the tide of bodies, I was reminded—loudly—that it was very much here.
Clutching my oversized backpack—now my shield—I maneuvered through the throng, mindful not to jostle anyone or knock down the school's facilities I was carrying. The equipment strapped to the front only added to my caution, forcing me to take careful.
"Look at that, this is even more hyped than Christmas." Tanya whistled, sidestepping a particularly eager group. "I heard there's even going to be a red-carpet event on the 13th welcoming the 14th."
"Is this now going to be an annual thing? Who even came up with this idea?" I adjusted the bag again, feeling the tricking of frustration as I scanned the buzzing crowd. We were on our way to meet up with Samantha, a student from the Journalism Faculty—if we make it through the chaos.
"You'd never guess—it was Silvia," Tanya said casually. "To think she called this even 'little' before," she continued unbeknownst to me who had stopped on my tracks. "Wait. Silvia?" she paused, turning around to face me.
"How do you know it was her?" I pressed, unease starting to gnaw at me.
"Samantha told me," Tanya said, adjusting her bag as we resumed walking. "Apparently, Silvia pitched the idea to the dean, saying it would benefit the students and boost the morale, not to forget the university's image."
I exhaled sharply, processing this revelation. I wanted to think maybe Tanya was wrong but if it was coming from Samantha, then it had to be right. She had an uncanny knack for being in the know—a walking newswire of campus affairs. What I thought of just a made up even from bored students, suddenly turned-out mystery. Silvia did nothing for the better of us, Silvia did everything for her, and Silvia knew how much I loathe Valentine.
One might misjudge Silvia as a hair head slay queen, but no. I knew her well enough to know how every move she made was calculated. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. Or was I overthinking it? I mean, the idea of her orchestrating an entire event just to get under my skin seemed rather... overreached… yet I couldn't shake it off.
My musings were cut short by a sudden, forceful collision. The impact nearly sent me sprawling, but I managed to steady myself at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the humiliation of a second public mishap in one day. Pain jolted through my shoulder, but I was glad my pride remained intact—barely.
"Watch where you're going!" the dush bag who just knocked me growled before vanishing into the crowd.
Tanya's voice sliced through the buzz of the hallway, laced with irritation. "Hey, are you okay?" Then, shooting a glare at the retreating figure, she muttered, "What a jerk."
Despite the lingering sting in my shoulder, I maned a chuckle. "I'm fine, really. Let's just hurry up and find Samantha before we get swallowed by this human stampede." Relief washed over me when we finally made it to our destination unscathed.
Oh, how much I wanted this month to be written off existence.
The imposing building loomed before us, proudly bearing the engraved words "ECONOMICS FACULTY." More students than usual bustled in and out, hurrying through the grand entrance as Tanya and I set up our equipment on the steps.
"Have you texted her?" I asked, adjusting the camera stands and reorganizing the gear. We were here to film an interview led by Samantha.
"There she is," she said, just as a striking woman stepped out of the building and made her way toward us, wearing the brightest smile I'd ever seen. Samantha was the embodiment of a Black Jessica Rabbit: sultry curves, hypnotic eyes, and a voice like slow-burning velvet. Heads turned as she walked, her mahogany skin glowing under the summer light. The floral dress she wore, modest by most standards, clung to her in a way that made it seem anything but.
"Hi, Tanya. Hello, Mandy," she chirped, waving cheerfully. The wind played with the hem of her dress, and her sleek bob framed her face with effortless grace. But beneath her charm and warmth, I knew to stay alert. Samantha's curiosity, while invaluable in journalism, had a way of toeing the line between probing and invasive.
"For a moment, I thought you two weren't going to make it!" she said with a laugh.
I gave a polite smile, rotating my shoulder where a dull ache had begun to settle in.
"Mandy and I were nearly trampled by the crowd," Tanya said with a giggle, handing Samantha a black microphone.
"Oh, you should see what it looks like inside," Samantha said, gesturing toward the building. I didn't need to go in to know. The place was teeming with students.
"Alright, let's dive in," she declared, clapping her hands together as she took her position.
"I've got five faculty members to interview within the hour before someone else scoops the story. Are we ready to roll?" she asked, gripping the petite mic with practiced ease.
"Ready when you are," I said, making a final adjustment to the lens.
With a steadying breath, Samantha launched into her report the moment I gave the cue.
"A beautiful day, today, isn't it?" she began, her voice crisp and engaging. " Samantha here, reporting from the University of Art with sensational news that's bound to captivate. As everyone knows, February has long been the month of love. A time for couples to revel in romance and exchange tokens of affection.
However, this year marks a delightful departure from tradition. Instead of a single day dedicated to Valentine's, the University of Art has introduced something entirely new..." She paused for dramatic effect. "...two whole weeks devoted to love and companionship!"
Her delivery was seamless, her confidence electrifying. "Yes, that's right! Fourteen Days of Valentine, just for you," Samantha affirmed, her enthusiasm unwavering. Meanwhile, I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Admittedly, I enjoyed my role behind the camera. But the relentless repetition of Valentine was starting to wear thin.
"And here's the best part," she continued, now moving around. "Everyone is welcome to participate, regardless of their major or relationship status. As you can see, we're stationed outside the Economics Department, where I have the honor of interviewing Paul, the head class representative for Economics."
I smoothly panned the camera to capture a new student 'Paul as he came into focus. Paul was an average Asian guy, dressed in black slacks and neatly tucked in blue shirt. He had that air of professionalism that made him appear more like a young professor than a student.
Meanwhile, Tanya skillfully positioned the condenser microphone overhead, ensuring every word would be captured with pristine clarity.
Samantha flashed a warm smile. "How are you today, Paul?"
"I'm well, thank you," he replied with a polite nod, his demeanor as measured as ever.
"Your faculty looks busy today than usual. Why is that?" Paul seemed to consider the question for two heartbeats before answering.
"The past few days, including today, have been hectic, to say the least." His tone remained composed, his face betraying little emotion.
"And would you say this sudden bustle is related to Valentine's? What's your take on the event? There seems to be a mix of excitement and—shall we say—annoyance among the students," Samantha pressed.
Paul nodded thoughtfully. "That's an accurate observation. When the dean first announced it as an official event, I thought it was a bit... presumptuous. Not everyone sees Valentine's Day as a significant occasion."
Finally! Someone who actually gets it. It was a rare, glorious moment of validation. Someone else shared my skepticism about the administration's over-the-top decision.
But then—
"But once the initiative got underway," Paul continued, "I started to understand the reasoning behind it."
Wait… what?
My fingers tightened instinctively around the camera.
"How so?" Samantha asked, her curiosity lighting up, and before I knew it, I was leaning in too.
"This project isn't just a fancy academic exercise. It's thrown us straight into the deep end! We've had a steady stream of clients and students from different faculties knocking on our door for help. Surveys, budget planning, and tackling complex economic trends and business strategies. You name it, we've handled it.
And get this—it's only been three days, but it feels like we've crammed in an entire internship's worth of experience."
As much as I wanted to roll my eyes at this whole operation, I had to admit there was something to it. Initially, I expected this event to be nothing more than an excuse for excessive PDA, but instead, it had people buzzing with energy for a February. No wonder the dean was eager to make it official.
Paul was soon whisked away to share his wisdom elsewhere, and with our interview wrapped up, we set off to explore other faculties. I gravitated toward the theatrical and fashion design departments, where two of my closest friends were stationed. They carried themselves with such effortless confidence that it was impossible not to be drawn in.
Then came the final stop. The one I would've gladly skipped: the Faculty of Computing and Information Technology.Silvia's territory.But professionalism won out, and I braced myself to keep things strictly business.
"And here she is—the brilliant mind behind it all," Samantha announced, her voice practically dripping with admiration. "Not only is she dazzling, but she's also the very definition of intellect! Silvia Wema, Vice President of Art University, looking as stunning as ever."
Summoning every ounce of self-control, I kept my expression neutral while Samantha showered Silvia with praise. Today, Silvia had traded her usual vibrant wardrobe for something more refined: a sleek sky-blue dress, cinched at the waist with a white belt, paired with crisp white heels. Even her makeup was minimal, yet polished—highlighting her natural elegance in a way that felt deliberate.
"You're too kind, Sam. And might I say, you're looking quite lovely yourself," Silvia replied, her compliment briefly interrupted as someone in the distance called her name.
"Let's keep this short so you can get back to being in high demand," Samantha joked, keeping the mood light.
Then she pivoted, her tone curious. "So, why extend Valentine's Day to a full fourteen days?"
A coy smile curled on Silvia's lips, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. "Mind if I answer that with a question of my own?"
Samantha gestured for her to go on.
"Why not dedicate fourteen days to spreading love around the world?" Silvia said, smoothly. "Heaven knows we could all use a little more of it."
It was too perfect and too natural to be rehearsed. I bit my lip to stop myself from scoffing.Spreading love? Please.
The only thing Silvia Wema knew how to spread was hate—quietly, strategically, and always with a smile. I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to look away from her. I need to focus and remain professional. But then, a strange prickling sensation crept down my spine followed by a shift in the air.
My eyes flickered past Silvia and I nearly blanked out.
No way.
There, standing just beyond the crowd, was someone I hadn't seen in years. Someone who wasn't supposed to be here. He couldn't be here. My breath came in ragged bursts, and my gaze snapped back to Silvia, who was already watching me with those calculating eyes. Alarm bells blared in my head. I knew it.
This wasn't some grand celebration of love. This fourteen-day spectacle? It was an elaborate setup. And Silvia's look—paired with his sudden reappearance—was all the proof I needed. Whatever game she was playing, I knew now: I was her favorite pawn.
I don't know how I left the faculty building. I don't even know where I was. All I knew was that I was struggling to breathe, desperately willing my legs not to give out. Not here. Not on campus. Not in front of everyone.
I couldn't handle any more public humiliation.
The sharp sound of a camera shutter cut through the haze, blinding my already blurry vision. I tried to swallow a sob that clawed its way up my throat.
Someone help me!
I screamed it internally, too scared to let it out loud. I knew what was happening. I was on the verge of a breakdown. A full-blown panic attack. And what terrified me most wasn't the loss of control.
It was having it here. In front of everyone. In a world where every phone has a camera and no moment is safe from being recorded.
I tried—really tried—but a sob broke free. My knees buckled, and I was going down.
But just before I hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught me and pulled me into a firm, steady hold.
"It's okay. I'm here," a calm, reassuring male voice said.