Aina steps away from her stall, finally catching a breath between waves of visitors. Her nerves are still buzzing, but her lips hurt from smiling.
That's when she spots Sarah, standing a few tables away, adjusting something on her board.
Aina makes her way over.
"Hey," she says softly.
Sarah turns, and her face instantly brightens. "Aina! Girl, you're killing it."
Aina laughs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."
Sarah holds up a cold bottle of water like a prize. "You look like you need this more."
Aina accepts it with gratitude. "Lifesaver. I swear my throat's going dry from all the talking."
Sarah grins. "You sound like a pro, though. I passed by earlier. People are just glued."
Aina unscrews the cap and takes a long sip. "They're curious. Also skeptical."
"They'll come around," Sarah says. "You're showing them something real."
Aina leans against the wall, her shoulders easing a little. "What about you? How's your project going?"
Sarah's eyes sparkle. "Mine's not translating cats, but… It's a smart waste separator. Using AI and camera input to detect and sort plastics, organics, and metals."
Aina raises her brows, impressed. "That's huge. You're fixing the planet, and I'm decoding meows."
They both laugh.
Sarah bumps her shoulder gently. "You're giving pets a voice. That's beautiful."
Aina smiles. "Thanks, Sarah."
Just then, someone calls from a few steps away.
"Aina!"
It's Murat, one of her classmates from the machine learning class. He jogs over, slightly breathless, pointing behind him.
"There's someone at your stall. He says he's been waiting."
Aina frowns. "Who?"
Murat shrugs. "I don't know. Tall guy. Dark jacket. Didn't say much. Just… intense vibe."
Aina's eyes dart toward her stall.
And there he is.
The same man.
The one who has been in the crowd earlier, watching. Not the app. Not the setup. Watching her.
He stands by the table now, hands in his coat pockets, calm yet unreadable. His eyes sweep slowly over the waveform screen, the colorful cards, and the soft blinking interface. But when Aina's gaze meets his, he doesn't look away.
A strange chill runs through her. Not fear. Not recognition either. Something in between.
"Aina?" Sarah's voice brings her back.
"I… I should go," Aina says, already stepping away.
Aina returns to her stall, sipping the last of the water Sarah has handed her. The hall buzzes, yet one presence cuts through the noise.
Him.
The same guy silently watching her earlier is standing right at her stall, examining the poster like he's reading between the lines.
He is striking — tall, effortlessly put-together in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, sharp jaw, sharper gaze. But it's the look in his eyes that catches her off guard.
Not curiosity.
Not awe.
Challenge.
"Hello," Aina greets, voice polite but cautious. "Interested in the project?"
"Hmm," he tilts his head slightly. "It says your app translates cat emotions?"
"Yes," she answers, folding her arms. "It uses ML to classify feline vocalizations into emotional states."
He nods slowly, then asks casually, "But... what's the point of that? Isn't it just guessing?"
She blinks. "It's trained on labeled data. It's not guessing — it's prediction based on patterns."
"Right. But humans barely understand cat behavior. You think a machine can do better?"
A few students nearby turn their heads. Aina feels it — the shift. His voice isn't loud, but the confidence in it draws attention.
She stands a little straighter. "I think machines can help us understand what we often ignore. Patterns in sound, frequency, tone — things we dismiss, but are real."
The guy looks almost amused. "So you're saying this is more accurate than a vet's instinct?"
"No," she snaps. "But it can support it. It's an assistant, not a replacement."
He smiles faintly at her fire. "Interesting."
He walks around to the other side of the stall, eyes still locked on her.
"So... all this effort just for cats?"
Aina clenches her jaw, then says, voice clear, "I'm a cat owner. I know what it feels like not to understand what your pet needs. And I know others feel the same. So yes — for cats, for their humans, for peace of mind. That's the point."
For a second, silence.
Then, a slow nod.
"Good," he murmurs.
"Good?" she echoes, still annoyed.
He chuckles. "You've got fight. That's what I wanted to see."
Her brows knit. "What?"
"I wasn't here for the app," he says calmly. "I was here for you. To see how you defend what you've built. Not with slides. With conviction."
She stares, completely thrown.
"Who are you?" she asks, baffled.
He smiles, starts to turn away, then says over his shoulder, "Someone who believes creators are more important than their creations."
And then he disappears into the crowd.
Leaving Aina furious, flustered, and unexpectedly intrigued.
Aina stares at the empty space where the guy has just been, her heart still racing with a mix of confusion and irritation.
"Ugh, what was that even supposed to mean?" she mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.
Just then, her classmate — a tall, easygoing guy from her department named Mehmet — walks up to her stall with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Whoa… what just happened here?" he asks, glancing between Aina and the curious faces still lingering around her table.
"Some random guy just walks in, asks a bunch of questions like he's a panelist or something — and then says he's here to watch me, not the project."
"Wait… tall, black shirt, confident like he owns the room?" Mehmet says, raising his eyebrows.
Aina nods slowly. "You know him?"
Mehmet chuckles. "Not a fan. Just… I know his reputation. Rayyan Demir. Currently doing his Master's in AI at Boğaziçi University. Top of his class. Brilliant mind, quiet, observant. People say he reads situations better than he writes code — and trust me, he's damn good at coding."
Aina's eyebrows lift despite herself. "He's here for his project, too?"
"Yeah," Mehmet says, pointing toward a corner booth surrounded by a small crowd. "That's his stall. I think he built an emotion recognition AI for deaf-blind communication. You should check it out — it's insane."
Aina looks in the direction Mehmet points. The stall is sleek, minimalist, but clearly buzzing with interest.
She crosses her arms tightly. "Well, good for him. Doesn't mean he gets to test people like that."
Mehmet laughs. "Yeah… but I think he sees something in you."
She narrows her eyes at him.
"In a good way!" he adds quickly. "He doesn't talk much, let alone go up to random stalls. I've never seen him do that."
Aina glances back at her screen, then toward Rayyan's booth. She hates that she's even a little curious.
But she is.
Rayyan's stall is the center of attention.
He stands tall behind the table, surrounded by a curious crowd — judges leaning in with questions, students hanging on to every word. His tone is calm, his gestures calculated, confident. Like, this isn't his first time stealing the spotlight.
Aina stands by her own stall, arms folded across her chest, pretending to check her setup — but her eyes have a mind of their own.
They keep drifting to him.
Now and then, she glances over… then looks away quickly, lips pressed together, brows furrowed in that signature "do n't-you-dare" expression.
But this time, Rayyan notices.
He doesn't look immediately. No. He waits until her gaze lingers just a little too long.
Then, without turning his head, his eyes shift straight to her.
Aina freezes.
Their eyes lock.
Her expression is still sharp, laced with unspoken questions and that stormy frustration he has stirred earlier.
And that's when it happens.
A slow, devilish smile tugs at the corner of Rayyan's lips. Not smug — but knowing. Teasing. Like he has just confirmed something.
She's watching him.
Aina quickly looks away, but it's too late — he's seen everything.
Rayyan turns back to his visitors, but the smirk doesn't leave his face. If anything, it grows deeper… like the game has just begun.