The next morning began too clean.
Birds chirped on cue, students laughed on cue, and the sunlight hit the courtyard exactly like it always did—like someone pressed play on a perfect scene.
Luca and Marc walked side by side through the crowd. To anyone else they looked like normal students, but both of them felt the rhythm under the surface: the world trying too hard.
Marc muttered, "It's repeating again, isn't it?"
Luca nodded. "Different order, same lines."
The "Romantic Scene" assignment from yesterday was due today. Marc and Aria had met after school to brainstorm, but half their notes had mysteriously disappeared from his bag overnight. The only remaining page contained one sentence written in a handwriting that wasn't either of theirs:
'Confession scene. Sunset. Do not deviate.'
Marc stared at it while the teacher collected homework.
Aria's voice was soft. "It's written like an instruction."
Marc looked at her. "Do you remember writing that?"
She shook her head. "I remember… thinking about it, but not actually doing it." Her eyes flickered with confusion. "Maybe the world filled in what it wanted."
The bell rang before they could say more.
Between periods, Marc noticed students whispering near the lockers.
"Did you hear? Aria's going to confess to someone today.""Really? Who?""Probably Marc, right?"
Every voice sounded rehearsed—same tone, same pacing. When he turned, the students smiled politely and continued walking as if nothing strange had been said.
Marc sighed. "This place is starting to feel like a script that doesn't need actors."
Luca joined him, hands in pockets. "Then we rewrite the lines."
At sunset the classroom emptied. Marc stayed behind with Aria, pretending to organize papers. The last orange light fell across the desks exactly like the note had described.
Aria leaned against the window. "It's happening, isn't it?"
Marc nodded slowly. "The scene."
For a moment, neither spoke. The air itself felt rehearsed—every breath measured.
Then Aria looked at him with a sad smile. "If I say the lines the world expects, does it make them mine?"
Marc stepped closer. "Say what you want, not what it writes."
Her hands trembled. "What if it erases me for that?"
"Then I'll remember you," he said. Simple, steady.
She laughed quietly, the sound fragile but real. "You always sound so sure."
"I have to be. Somebody has to anchor you."
Aria opened her mouth—but the door slid open before she could speak.
Aiden stood there, breathless. "Sorry to interrupt, but the teacher said—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting between them. "Oh."
The pause lasted too long. Too scripted.
Marc recognized the setup instantly. Forced misunderstanding flag.
Aiden's jaw tightened. "I didn't know you two were—never mind."
He turned to leave. Aria reached out. "Wait, it's not—"
But the door had already closed.
Silence pressed in.
Aria exhaled shakily. "The world did that, didn't it?"
Marc nodded. "Yeah. It wants drama."
She looked down at her hands. "It wants me to play the same mistakes again."
Later, Marc found Luca leaning against the dorm railing, watching the lights of the city.
"How bad?" Luca asked.
"Textbook misunderstanding," Marc said. "Triggered right on schedule."
Luca chuckled dryly. "The system's predictable."
Marc leaned beside him. "I hate how it uses people. Aiden probably thinks I stole her route."
"Then make him see you didn't."
Marc glanced sideways. "You sound confident."
"Because it's us," Luca said. He held up a fist halfway, then turned it into a dap instead. Marc met it wordlessly.
The small contact grounded them—something real in a world made of scripts.
Across campus, Aria sat on a bench under the vending machine light, listening to the quiet hum of the world.
She whispered, "Every time I follow the lines, it resets. Every time I don't, it hurts someone."
She closed her eyes. "I don't know which one is worse."
The light above her flicked—not glitching, just dimming the way cheap bulbs do before turning off. A simple, human imperfection. It made her smile.
Somewhere inside that perfect world, something still faltered naturally.
Maybe that was hope.