Evan barely slept, but adrenaline smoothed the edges of fatigue as the morning crept over campus. He scrubbed his face awake, brushed the rumpled shirt until it looked almost professional, and packed his battered laptop in the clean tote Mira insisted he use. The apartment, for once, was hushed—Nora dozed after a rough night, Mira drowned in a mug of coffee, eyes tracking his every movement between sips.
"Don't stress," she murmured, voice hoarse from reading Nora lullabies until dawn. "You're the most prepared person I know."
He grinned, a lopsided thing that tried to be reassured. "You say that because you haven't seen my code today."
She set her mug aside and gave him a fierce hug. "Whatever happens in that room, remember—you've already made us proud." A soft pride radiated from her, as if trust could be fitted like a jacket.
Sam appeared, hair still damp from the world's fastest shower, and tossed a protein bar into Evan's bag. "Fuel up. If they say no, we egg the Dean's car."
"Nora would object on ethical grounds," Evan retorted, not sure which of them was more nervous as they swapped awkward high-fives.
He left with half a plan in his pocket and the full weight of expectation resting on his shoulders. Spring sunlight broke through gray, illuminating uneven sidewalks and knots of students yawning their way to early labs.
Professor Calver waited outside the lecture hall, tablet in hand, eyes sharp behind her glasses. "Board's inside. Take a breath. You only need to be better than Lucas—he's first."
Lucas's name sent a flicker down Evan's spine, but he nodded, swallowing nerves.
Inside, the grant committee assembled along a U-shaped table—four members, a pair of industry guests, and a staff notetaker pecking away. PowerPoint logo glowed on the far wall, a countdown timer glowing silently in one corner. Across the aisle, Lucas finished rearranging his tie and offered Evan a brief, measured nod—more respect than rivalry in the gesture today.
Lucas was called first. His presentation skewed technical, elegant slides just dense enough to hint at brilliance, but the panel's faces stayed passive. Professor Calver frowned twice; the industry guests whispered to each other during a pricing slide. Evan tracked it all, cataloguing what worked and—importantly—what didn't.
His turn came. He breathed in, channeling Mira's quiet confidence. "Thank you for your time. I want to start with what matters most—why power reliability isn't just a citywide number, but a promise to keep families safe and warm." A photo of River Loft, baby blanket in the foreground, opened the deck.
He told stories: of cold nights, of families worrying when the lights would stay on, of algorithms filtered through that human urgency. Student volunteers, test beds, Nora's birth (carefully anonymized) as inspiration for resilience. He wove numbers through images but never let them overpower the people behind them.
When questions came—a barrage—he didn't hedge. One board member pressed on scaling. Evan outlined modular upgrades. A guest raised funding efficiency; he mapped out the phases, careful to highlight how emergency subsidies could be integrated for families in crisis.
At the end, Professor Calver angled her head—approval in the smallest of smiles.
"Thank you, Evan. We'll discuss and let you know shortly."
In the hallway, Lucas lounged on a radiator. "Good pitch," he said, voice almost genuine, then added, "You know they'll keep us waiting just to enjoy the agony."
Evan cracked a laugh he didn't feel. "Agony is my native language."
Minutes passed. Sam texted a string of food emojis and update ASAP as if he could will news to break faster.
Finally, Professor Calver emerged, beckoning to both finalists. Evan's pulse threatened escape. The committee chair smiled, a rare eruption in her stern features. "Both proposals were exceptional. However—after much deliberation, the board is pleased to offer the full research grant to Mr. Wood." She shook Evan's hand, then Lucas's, and swept away with the rest of the committee.
Evan's knees buckled as relief and disbelief crashed together. Lucas, to his credit, offered a handshake, grip deliberate, eyes already analyzing the next moves. "Well played, Wood. No hard feelings—just more incentive next time."
Evan smiled. "Next time, we'll do it with coffee instead of stress."
He left the hall in a daze, the phone halfway to his ear before he remembered he still needed to breathe. He called Mira.
"Hey, it's me," he said. "We got it. The funds. The project. Everything."
On the other end, Mira's voice broke with delight. "Of course you did. Nora's going to have the safest crib and the warmest lights in three counties."
Back at River Loft, Sam waited with two large sodas and a bag of discount cookies. The three crowded around the tiny table, lab celebration squeezed between baby bottles and grant paperwork. Evan felt the exhaustion melt away, replaced by a fierce, bone-deep hope.
That night, between fever checks and feeding, Evan updated the whiteboard: a down payment for a better apartment, a list of local daycare options, a menu for a celebratory meal they'd cook together. Mira scrawled thank you in the margins; Sam doodled a superhero cape on a stick-figure Dad.
The Super Dad System, quiet until then, flickered back to life:
[Main Quest Progress: Grant Secured, Next Objective: Relocate family to safe housing within 7 days.]
[Reward Unlocked: Apartment Selection Fund, Tier 1. New feature: Home Safety Scan available.]
As the glow faded and the apartment settled into the hush of a well-earned night, Evan brushed a fingertip over Nora's cheek, his hand trembling not from uncertainty or fatigue, but from the overwhelming certainty that the next step—no matter how hard—was theirs to take, together.
Morning would bring contracts, packing tape, and the search for a new home. But for now, the battered walls of 12-B glowed warmer than any campus lab, wrapped around a family drawing its first confident breath.
And just outside the window, hidden by curtain shadows, a figure leaned by the alley, phone camera aimed and waiting—an old problem threading its way into this new, hard-won beginning.