The cursor blinked on the screen like it was growing impatient.
Amelia stared at the week's project, but her mind was still at the bar. At the dance. At the line she didn't want to repeat: "You still know."
She clicked on a random clip, just to look busy. But the video played without sound, without meaning. As if the world had lost its soundtrack.
Her body still remembered. And that irritated her more than anything.
It was always like this — when things slipped out of control, problems started to surface. And in those moments, Luna's gray tones began to bleed into Amelia.
Rafa wasn't supposed to exist outside his parallel universe. But yesterday, he did. And that made her body remember him at a time when she was just Amelia — the ordinary girl, the student, the version trying to stay invisible.
Her body was one. It didn't care about the defenses she built, or the excuses she used. And that was everything she didn't want to think about.
Shit.
The cursor kept blinking, stubborn. Amelia didn't blink back.
She was there, but not really. Her body present, her mind in flight.
Until her phone buzzed.
She looked at it with hesitation — like someone expecting the worst. But it was Thomas.
Thomas: "I passed by a café that looked less sad than average. Thought of you."
Amelia bit her lip, holding back a smile. He always showed up like that — never invading, just touching.
She typed slowly.
Amelia: "Less sad than average is a great standard. Do they have muffins?"
The reply came quickly.
Thomas: "Two. One with chocolate. One with guilt. Your pick."
She laughed to herself, the sound muffled by the empty room.
Amelia: "Guilt is my favorite flavor."
Thomas: "Then let's repeat the dose? Tomorrow, after class?"
She hesitated for a second. But only for a second.
Amelia: "Deal. But this time, no muffin casualties."
Thomas: "No promises. I'm more chaos than coordination."
She locked the screen, but the smile lingered.
Rafa was muscle memory. Thomas was pause. And right now, she needed to breathe.
Amelia was still at the computer, trying to reorganize her thoughts, when the editing room door burst open — the kind of entrance only Clara could pull off.
"Look who's alive," Clara said, walking in with Bruno right behind her and a third guy Amelia had never seen.
Bruno flashed his usual easy grin.
"The most mysterious nerd on campus. I thought you only existed in JPEG."
Amelia turned her chair slightly, keeping her defensive posture.
"And I thought you guys only showed up when there's free food."
Clara laughed and pointed to the third guy.
"This is Caio. Also an athlete. Official boyfriend, not just a background character."
Caio gave a calm wave, body built from training, but eyes gentler than Bruno's.
"Nice to meet you, Amelia. I've heard about you. Clara says you're like a disguised genius."
Amelia smiled, unsure whether to thank him or run.
"Disguise is my main skill."
Bruno dropped into an empty chair, already fiddling with cables like a sound tech.
"We were thinking of doing something tonight. Dinner, maybe. Or a bar. Or anywhere without spreadsheets and stressed-out people."
Clara sat beside Amelia, excited.
"Come with us. It'll be chill. No script. Just good people and decent food."
Amelia hesitated. Her heart sped up — not because of the invite, but because of Thomas's message.
"I... already have plans."
Bruno raised an eyebrow.
"With who? The book?"
Clara looked at her, curious.
"Plans like... actual plans? Or a classy excuse?"
Amelia glanced at her phone, still face down.
"Real plans. A date, actually."
Clara's eyes widened, surprised and thrilled.
"A date? With who?"
Amelia smiled, subtle.
"Thomas."
It was a white lie, but still a lie. She just wasn't in the mood for their 'fun' — not after yesterday's disaster.
Bruno made a theatrical grimace.
"The guy from 'you still know'? That's Rafa."
Amelia rolled her eyes, then glanced at Clara with a smirk. "Your fault," she said. "Such a gossip, you."
Clara burst into laughter, trying and failing to look innocent.
"No," Amelia said firmly. "This is the other one. The one who doesn't need a scene to see me."
Clara looked at her with a mix of surprise and admiration.
"Oh okay. The message guy... I'm proud."
Caio laughed, raising his hands.
"Then it's settled. The nerd has plans. We're going without her."
Bruno stood up, pretending to be dramatic.
"Abandoned by the protagonist. This is going in my diary."
Amelia laughed, lighter now.
"Good luck with dinner. And with his ego, Clara."
Clara winked.
"I've already tamed the ego. Now you just need to let yourself go a little."
Amelia looked at the screen, then at her phone.
Maybe she was starting to let go. But this time, for someone who didn't need her to be someone else.
The editing room was nearly empty, except for the hum of computers and the cursor blinking on Amelia's screen. She tried to focus on the project, but her mind kept drifting — between memories, between bodies, between lines that shouldn't have been said.
The door opened slowly. Professor Henrique walked in with his usual style: rolled-up sleeves, glasses hanging from his collar, and that gaze that always seemed to analyze more than observe.
"You live here," he said, leaning against the doorframe with a half-smile. "Is that dedication or escape?"
Amelia didn't look away from the screen.
"Depends on the day."
Henrique stepped closer, watching the video in silence for a few seconds.
"Psychology explains a lot about this. Avoidance behavior. The search for control through routine. Editing as a metaphor for the mind."
She stopped typing, but didn't respond.
"Have you ever thought about applying that to your work?" he continued. "The way you build your videos says a lot about how you build yourself."
Amelia crossed her arms, wary.
"Is this a lecture or an analysis?"
Henrique smiled, slow.
"Just curiosity. Or maybe admiration. You have an interesting mind. And a presence that... challenges silence."
She frowned.
"That sounds less academic than it should."
"Psychology is about people. And you're one of the most complex I've had in my class."
Amelia looked away, uncomfortable with the compliment.
"I have plans tonight."
Henrique nodded, unfazed.
"Of course. But if you ever want to talk about the project — or what it doesn't show — my door is open. If you want extra lessons... I have time for you."
"You have rare talent," he said, stopping behind her. "But talent without direction is waste."
He left with the same calm he entered.
She hadn't expected that.
Amelia sat there, feeling like something had been touched — but she didn't know if it had a name.