Enamor - Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader (WLW)

17 - Happy Progress Day!

Caitlyn had left early that morning, her schedule packed. It was Progress Day, after all—the one day a year Piltover came together to celebrate its journey from humble beginnings to a thriving beacon of innovation. Today marked Piltover's 200th anniversary, a milestone in its storied history.

The city buzzed with excitement, not least because the rising star, Jayce Talis—the new "Man of Progress"—was set to deliver a speech in just a few hours. His address wouldn't just honor Progress Day but also unveil developments in his highly secretive project.

Speculation ran wild about what it could be. Even Caitlyn didn't know; the project was shrouded in mystery. Rumor had it that even most council members were in the dark, leaving you to wonder just how revolutionary—or dangerous—it might be.

As the day wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Usually, things went smoothly, but not today. Your toast had burnt that morning, the milk spoiled a day earlier than expected, and you'd even torn a shirt you really liked.

Being a firm believer in omens, gut feelings, and maybe even the supernatural, none of this helped quell the unease gnawing at the back of your mind. The voices whispering doubts and warnings seemed louder than usual. Maybe something really was wrong.

The worst part was the waiting—the agonizing uncertainty, stranded in a rising tide of paranoia and anxiety. You tried to steady yourself, taking a slow breath as the cup of coffee in front of you cooled, untouched. If something wasn't right about today, there was only one thing you could do.

Wait.

Time would tell.

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Caitlyn stood stationed in front of her mother's tent at the Progress Day fair, a post she found more irritating than fulfilling. She would have much preferred to patrol the bustling streets, soaking in the lively atmosphere, but her mother seemed to enjoy keeping her daughter close at hand on such occasions.

With a quiet sigh, Caitlyn adjusted her stance, realizing her posture had slipped. She clasped one hand over her wrist behind her back, shifting into a more composed stance as she surveyed the surrounding festivities.

Her vigilance was interrupted by a light tap on the brim of her hat. Instinctively, she whirled around, seizing the culprit's wrist in a firm grip. Her tense expression melted into a smile when she saw Jayce standing there, his wrist caught awkwardly in her hold.

"Ow, ow, ow, Cait." Jayce said with a strained chuckle, trying and failing to free himself.

She grinned, loosening her grip slightly but still not letting go.

"Serves you right," Caitlyn quipped, her smirk fading as her eyes flicked upward to meet her mother's disapproving glare from across the way. Her shoulders stiffened, and she quickly released Jayce's wrist, turning to walk a few paces away.

"Still avoiding her?" Jayce asked, his gaze shifting between Cassandra and Caitlyn as he rubbed his wrist. He straightened his posture with a slight wince.

"I'm working," Caitlyn replied curtly, resuming her stance at rest and casting her gaze around the fairgrounds, as though searching for anything to occupy her attention.

Jayce chuckled, a coy smile tugging at his lips. Despite his efforts, Caitlyn's expression remained tense, her irritation unmoved by his teasing.

"I can only imagine the strings she pulled to have me posted here," Caitlyn muttered, her brows slightly furrowed, her usually gentle voice edged with bitterness.