After Bryan left, the factory felt... dead. Like someone dimmed the lights on my personal stage. No snide remarks. No eye-roll-worthy comebacks. No dramatic face-offs in the hallway that left everyone holding their breath. Just silence.
The kind that crawls under your skin.
Whispers buzzed like mosquitoes. Everyone had something to say.
"Pearl and Bryan? Those two really tore into each other."
"They must've been in love and didn't even know it."
"She looks so lost now… maybe she misses him."
*Miss him?* Me? That arrogant, ego-on-legs human disaster?
Okay… maybe I did glance at the door more often than usual. And maybe I walked past the old spot we used to argue. *Maybe.*
The entrance exam was creeping up fast, and I was juggling factory shifts with late-night study sessions. My brain felt like a blender—whirring, full, noisy. I was barely holding it together. Then it happened.
A message. Unknown number.
*"Don't stress yourself too much, you'll surely pass well. I'm rooting for you."*
I stared at the screen, my heart beat pursed mid-beat.
That anonymous message lingered in my head long after I read it. Sweet. Encouraging. Familiar. I tried tracking the number, fingers trembling slightly as I clicked through my limited phone settings. But nothing. No trace.
*Who sent it?*
*Why now?*
Could it be… him?
Was I special ? Did he miss me ? Or was I just delusional ?
Shaking it off, I returned to the factory after two days of battling fever and stress. But peace wasn't what I walked into.
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
Apparently, while I was out, the factory supervisor had dropped her resignation like a bombshell and vanished. No notice. No explanation. Just… gone. The worst part? She was also our quality control personnel — the only one trained to verify production batches before packaging.
Now, with a huge order due by sunset and piles of unchecked goods stacking up, everyone looked like headless chickens. Panic buzzed through the building.
"We're doomed!" one person yelled.
Another said, "We can't package anything without analysis — it'll get us sued!"
In the middle of the tension, someone muttered thoughtfully, "Wait… wasn't she training Pearl how to run the checks the other day?"
The room stilled. All eyes turned to me.
My mind raced. Yes — the late calls to the lab, the strange diagrams she scribbled and handed to me. She even gave me a note... one I had shoved in my bag and never really opened.
My chest tightened. *What if that note is the key?*
Without saying a word, I bolted to the lab. My boots echoed in the hallway like gunshots. Heart pounding, I dug through my bag, fingers finally brushing against the crumpled note.
Unfolding it, my eyes scanned quickly. Step-by-step breakdowns. Handwritten formulas. Lab techniques simplified in her elegant handwriting.
It hit me like a slap: she'd been preparing me. She saw something in me long before I even considered myself capable.
I inhaled sharply and looked around the lab.
It all made sense now.
She'd been preparing for this all along. The subtle questions about my chemistry knowledge, the late lab sessions, the scribbled notes she handed me with that strange half-smile—it wasn't just random. It was a calculated handover.
I had been her backup plan.
I scoffed inwardly, both impressed and slightly offended. *Couldn't she have just told me?*
"Pearl," the manager called, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Can you handle the quality check? We need the report before packaging begins. The goods are shipping out tomorrow morning."
Everyone stared. No pressure, right?
No pressure I muttered under my breath.
I swallowed hard but nodded. "I'll try."
I pulled out the note she gave me, now smudged from being crumpled for days. Each step was neatly written, with her own annotations in the margins. I took a deep breath, followed the procedures carefully, and just like that… *bang.*
Exact result. Again. And again.
Every test I ran aligned with her usual numbers. My heart raced—not with fear this time, but pride.
A slow clap echoed from the back of the lab. Then another. And suddenly, the entire factory erupted in applause.
"our little miss Einstein is a genius"
I just smiled proudly with hands on my waist.
The day of the college entrance exam arrived much faster than I'd anticipated — almost like it was sprinting toward me while I was crawling in panic. And as if that wasn't nerve-wracking enough, it coincided with the interview for the factory's new supervisor position.
My stomach twisted itself into knots as I got dressed. I couldn't tell which event I was more nervous about. My hands were clammy. My brain foggy. I was pacing when my phone buzzed unexpectedly.
*Ding!*
A message.
I hesitated before unlocking it, and when I finally read the content, I froze.
*"Don't be nervous, you'll do well."*
My breath caught in my throat. *Again?* This was the second time I'd gotten a message like that from the same anonymous number. Same calm tone. Same strange comfort.
*Who are you? And how do you know exactly when I need to hear this?*
There was no time to dwell on it. I had to go.
In a whirlwind of nerves, I dashed out, hopped on the first bus that looked right — and of course, it was wrong. Completely wrong. By the time I realized, I was already heading in the opposite direction.
Panic hit.
I practically jumped off the bus, heart pounding, running like a madwoman toward the exam center. My legs burned. My lungs screamed. I could feel eyes on me, but I didn't care.
Finally — breathless and disoriented — I arrived just as the invigilator was about to shut the doors.
Talk about a dramatic entrance.
Collapsing into my seat, I looked around. Everyone else looked so composed, so calm. I was still trying to catch my breath when they handed me the paper.
And then… I read the first question.
My brows lifted.
The second. The third.
A slow smile crept onto my face.
*This exam? I've got this.*
A strange sense of peace settled in my chest — almost like whoever sent that message wasn't just rooting for me… but had somehow helped me prepare without even being seen.
As I stepped out of the exam hall, relief washed over me like a wave. The sky was clearer, the air lighter — or maybe that was just how it felt after a mental battle. I had done well. I *knew* it.
I was halfway down the stairs when my phone buzzed again.
*Ding.*
Another message.
Heart thumping, I opened it without hesitation.
*"Told you you'd ace it. Congrats, Pearl."*
I froze.
My name.
They knew my name.
Up until now, the messages had been comforting, mysterious — anonymous. But this? This felt personal. Intimate. Almost… calculated.
I looked around quickly, half-expecting someone to step out from the shadows, clapping slowly like some dramatic movie scene. But no one was there.
Just then, another message came in.
*"See you soon."*
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
See me soon?
Where? When? *Who the hell was this?!*
Before I could react, a black car slowly pulled up to the curb beside me. The tinted window rolled down halfway… and a familiar voice said, "Need a ride, genius?"
My blood ran cold.
Bryan.