Adra's POV
By the time third year settled in, life had become a strange rhythm of contradictions.
At night, we were still Sudden Music—lights, crowds, and thunderous applause. But by morning, we were just college students in wrinkled uniforms, cramming notes and rushing to class.
It was a balance none of us had ever expected to maintain, but somehow, we did.
Somehow, we had to.
The Classroom
The lecture hall was buzzing with chatter as the professor scribbled case study notes across the board. Gelo sat near the front, back straight, notebook open, eyes fixed like every word spoken was worth inheriting. He thrived here in a way that made sense—after all, business was in his blood. Watching him analyze financial structures and argue strategies during discussions was like watching him rehearse for his future.
Meanwhile, Mark sat two rows back, scrolling on his phone until the professor called on him. Then, without missing a beat, he'd launch into a flawless answer that left everyone both annoyed and impressed. He had a way of making laziness look like charm, though lately Clara had been scolding him enough to keep him slightly in line.
Steve? He was a different breed altogether. Law lectures were his battlefield. He thrived on sharp arguments, late-night readings, and the thrill of cornering someone in a debate. Half the time, he raised his hand before the professor even finished the question. The other half, he was scribbling potential student council proposals in the margins of his notes.
And Xiarya... she sat beside Gelo, her long hair brushing against the desk lamp as she flipped through advanced modules. She'd taken accelerated classes to match our track, and it showed. Her focus was sharp, her handwriting neat, her questions thoughtful. Professors praised her work constantly, unaware of the years she'd spent catching up in silence.
And me? I stayed at the back. General studies, electives, music theory when I could fit it in. I didn't chase attention here. My stage was elsewhere. But every now and then, when the professor asked for a perspective, I'd give it—and the room would fall quiet, not because I was famous, but because my silence made the words heavier.
This was our balance.
Lights at night. Books by day.
The Festival
Autumn brought the University Cultural Festival, a week of food stalls, music, theater, and club showcases. It was the kind of chaos that pulled everyone out of classrooms and into courtyards lined with lanterns and color.
Steve was everywhere—hosting debates, moderating panels, shaking hands with professors and alumni. His sharp suit and easy charisma made him look more like a young politician than a college student. Ariela shadowed him, rolling her eyes whenever he turned dramatic, but her smile betrayed how proud she was.
Mark, naturally, was on stage. Not singing—this time he was hosting the Business Org's fundraising night. With a mic in hand and a spotlight on him, he cracked jokes, teased professors, and somehow convinced people to donate more money than they'd planned. Clara worked backstage, managing logistics with a headset, though every time Mark glanced her way, he nearly lost his script.
Gelo? He carried most of the festival on his shoulders. As part of the student council's finance committee, he managed budgets, organized stalls, and made sure events didn't collapse. Xiarya was right there with him, running the arts committee, directing performances, and making the entire week shine brighter. Together, they were unstoppable—an anchor and a flame, balancing each other seamlessly.
And me? I was asked to compose a short anthem for the opening ceremony. Just a piece of music, played as the lanterns lit up. No words, no lyrics—just melody. I sat at the piano under strings of light, letting notes flow into the evening air as students cheered and couples walked hand in hand through the stalls.
For once, no one shouted my name. No one asked for autographs. They just listened. And somehow, that was enough.
Prom
Winter crept in, and with it came the university's annual formal. Not just a prom—this was a gala, complete with chandeliers, gowns, and tuxedos.
Gelo and Xiarya arrived first, hand in hand. She wore a midnight-blue dress that shimmered under the lights, her long hair cascading down her back. He wore a suit sharp enough to cut glass. Together, they drew stares the moment they stepped into the hall. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but none dared approach. They weren't just students anymore. They were something larger.
Steve walked in next with Ariela, her red gown matching the fire in her eyes. He looked proud beside her, like he'd won a battle no one else could fight. They danced like they were born for the floor—flawless, fierce, and entirely too dazzling for everyone else.
Mark and Clara followed, and jaws dropped. Clara, usually quiet with thick glasses and tied-back hair, stunned the room in an elegant ivory dress. Her hair framed her face, her glasses gone, her eyes bright. Mark couldn't stop smiling, one hand on her waist like he'd won the lottery.
And me? I walked in alone.
The crowd shifted when I entered, whispers following. I didn't need a partner to make the room notice. Fame carried its own weight. But the truth was simpler: the only one I wanted to bring couldn't be mine.
So I drifted to the side, watching, until Xiarya appeared before me.
"Cousin," she said with a soft smile. "Dance with me."
It was innocent, nothing more than family. But as the music swelled, I took her hand and led her onto the floor. For one song, we moved together—not as Adra and his replacement, not as shadow and mask, but as family rediscovered. Gelo watched from the edge, smiling faintly, no jealousy in his eyes.
When the song ended, I let go. She returned to him, where she belonged. And I stepped back into the shadows, content with my place.
The Council
By spring, the weight of leadership had settled on all of us.
Steve, after months of debates and showcases, was elected Vice President of the Student Council. He relished the title, though Ariela reminded him constantly not to let it get to his head. His confidence grew sharper, his presence heavier. Professors called him "future senator" half-jokingly, but everyone knew they weren't really joking.
Gelo became chair of the Business Org, guiding projects and leading conferences that drew corporate sponsors. He looked like his father more each day—not in appearance, but in the way responsibility curved his shoulders. Xiarya supported him every step, her arts committee thriving under her direction. Together, they blended business and creativity, making every event memorable.
Mark's charm turned useful for once—he hosted alumni dinners, emceed fundraisers, and networked so effortlessly that doors opened before he even knocked. Clara kept him grounded, reminding him that grades mattered too. With her by his side, his chaos found direction.
And me? Professors pulled me into the music department more often. I was asked to critique compositions, mentor younger students, even perform at academic symphonies. My fame could've overshadowed them, but I kept it low-key, preferring to let their talent shine.
College life wasn't just about grades anymore. It was about becoming who we were meant to be.
Closing
One evening, after a long day of classes and council work, we found ourselves walking across the campus quad together. The lanterns from another small festival still hung overhead, swaying in the evening breeze.
Steve was rambling about a council reform, Mark was teasing Clara about her "nerdy notes," Gelo and Xiarya walked side by side, fingers intertwined.
And me? I trailed a step behind, listening. Watching. Absorbing.
"This," I murmured softly, "is another kind of stage."
The others didn't hear me, but I didn't need them to.
Because I knew—the lights, the applause, the concerts... they weren't the only performances that mattered.
Life itself was the stage we were learning to master.
And the show was only just beginning.