The afternoon passes in a soft, busy rhythm.
After her break, Aina returns to her stall and spends the next few hours entertaining more visitors, answering questions with a tired but genuine smile. The excitement of the morning has faded into a gentle buzz, steady and fulfilling.
As the clock nears 5 PM, the crowd thins. Students start packing up their projects, chatting and laughing over their tiredness.
Ms. Hannah, their mentor, gathers everyone near the center of the exhibition hall. Clapping her hands, she raises her voice above the noise.
"Everyone, listen up!" she says, beaming. "I just want to say — I am incredibly proud of each and every one of you. You've all done such wonderful work today, and it showed. Whether you won a prize or not, your efforts mattered. You made today special!"
The class cheers loudly, clapping and exchanging grins. A wave of happiness and relief washes over them.
"Now go home, get some rest — you deserve it!" Ms. Hannah finishes, laughing warmly.
Aina claps along with everyone else, feeling a small, proud spark light inside her.
As she packs her things — carefully folding her posters and gathering her bag — a thought tugs at her.
Rayyan.
Her eyes automatically scan the rows of stalls, searching for him. Maybe just to say goodbye. Maybe to say... something else.
But his stall is already empty.
No sign of him among the students laughing and clicking last-minute photos.
Aina's heart dips a little. She hugs her bag closer to her chest.
Just then, her phone buzzes in her hand.
It's a call from her brother.
"Hey, I'm outside," he says. "Come quickly, it's getting late."
Aina smiles softly, tucking her phone into her bag.
Maybe next time, she thinks.
With a deep breath, she joins the slow-moving crowd, stepping out into the golden, fading light of the evening.
Aina spots Berk Raza's sleek black car waiting just outside the school gate. She trudges over, exhaustion written all over her face, and slides into the passenger seat. Her bag hits the backseat with a soft thud.
"Someone's had a day," Berk says, glancing over with a smirk as he pulls away from the curb. His sleeves are rolled up neatly, his watch catching the golden light. "Do we need to call emergency services, or just a foot massage?"
"Don't even joke," Aina groans, stretching her legs out. "My feet feel like they ran a marathon. On fire."
"Science fair went well, though?" he asks, easing them into traffic.
She nods, her voice light despite the fatigue. "Yeah. It was actually really good. People liked my project. I didn't win anything, but Ms. Hannah gave this whole speech, and I don't know... it felt worth it."
Berk raises a brow. "Impressive. Look at you, the little innovator."
Aina shoots him a side-eye. "Don't start. You already sound like Mom."
He grins. "Hey, someone has to brag about you if you're not gonna do it yourself."
She chuckles, then leans her head against the window, watching the sun sink low over the trees.
A minute passes in easy silence before Berk speaks again.
"You know what this day needs?"
Aina blinks. "Sleep?"
"Ice cream."
She turns to him, a tired grin creeping across her face. "You serious?"
"Deadly," he says, already flicking the indicator to turn down a familiar street.
"Celebration tradition. One scoop for the effort, one for the genius, and one because you survived university humans all day."
Aina laughs, warm and genuine. "That's a lot of scoops."
"I'm a generous investor," he replies, eyes twinkling.
They pull up outside a cozy little corner shop they've been going to since she was in primary school. The kind with faded pastel chairs and an ancient jukebox in the back. As they step out, Aina's tiredness feels a little lighter, replaced with something softer.
Inside, Berk orders without asking — her usual. One scoop mango, one chocolate, and a tiny sprinkle of crushed pistachios on top.
"Still remember," she says, touched.
"Of course I do. I'm not that old yet."
They sit on the curb outside, the warm evening air wrapping around them. Aina takes a slow bite, savoring the cold sweetness, while Berk nudges her lightly with his elbow.
"You did good today, Aina."
She smiles down at her cup. "Thanks, Berk. You did too — best chauffeur-slash-ice-cream-sponsor ever."
He mock-bows. "My greatest role.
By the time Berk pulls up outside their house, the sky is deep blue, the last traces of daylight fading behind the rooftops. Aina leans back in her seat, ice cream cup empty in her lap, feeling a soft kind of tired — the good kind.
Berk shifts the car into park and glances over at her.
"You okay?"
She nods, smiling. "Yeah. Just… ready to be horizontal."
He chuckles. "Go rest. You did great today."
Aina looks at him for a moment, her voice softer. "Thanks for picking me up. And the ice cream."
"Anytime," he says, offering a small, proud smile.
She sticks her tongue out and waves him off as he drives away, then heads inside.
The scent of dinner lingers faintly in the air as she opens the front door. In the kitchen, her mother is wiping down the counter, humming under her breath. She looks up immediately.
"There's my scientist!" her mom says, smiling warmly.
"Hi, Mom," Aina says, kicking off her shoes and padding over for a quick hug. "The fair went well. People really liked my project. It was crazy busy, but fun. I'm tired in, like… every part of my body."
Her mom brushes a hand gently through her hair. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I'm glad it went well. Did you eat?"
"Berk took me for ice cream," Aina says, smiling at the memory. "Three scoops. I'm basically made of sugar now."
Her mom laughs. "Of course he did."
Aina yawns mid-step as she starts heading for the hallway. "Okay — announcement," she says, turning dramatically toward the living room. "Nobody disturb me. I am going to shower, change, and fall into a coma. Wake me in like... a year."
"You earned it," her mom calls after her.
Aina gives a lazy wave and disappears into her room. Everything is just where she left it — a little messy, a little hers. She peels off her clothes, grabs a towel, and takes a long, warm shower, letting the day melt off her shoulders.
Afterward, she pulls on her favorite pajamas — soft cotton, loose and familiar — then flops into bed without even bothering to check her phone. Her hair's still a little damp, her limbs loose with exhaustion.
She pulls the thin sheet up to her chest and smiles, the day still glowing somewhere inside her."
It really was a good day.
Within minutes, she's fast asleep.