REKINDLED || Completed

41

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Forty One
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Shirt-signing was a tradition at CollU for students finishing their finals.

Every year, after the defense, you’d step outside to find a crowd—people you barely knew or didn’t know at all, eager to scribble their names on your shirt. Some even filmed videos and captioned them “Recreating this soon.” Photos were taken, laughter echoed, and it became one of those moments you’d look back on with nostalgia.

When Asher stepped out, the sea of people made her claustrophobic.

“Don’t let them get too close,” Everest murmured as a group of bubbly girls approached with markers in hand.

Asher considered ducking out—but when they started writing, she just… let them.

“Congratulations!” Raquel hugged her tightly before pulling back to sign her shirt.

That’s when Asher noticed. “Wait, you're not wearing a final-year shirt?”

“Nope,” Raquel chuckled, “but I will be in approximately 265 days.”

Everest laughed, and she nudged him playfully.

Wow.

“Yellow!” Harry called out, walking up with a bouquet of deep burgundy orchids.

Asher gasped and took them with delight, inhaling their fresh scent.

“Congratulations,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Thank you… but how did you know what flowers to get me?”

“A wise man never reveals his secrets.” He winked, and they all laughed.

Harry was halfway through signing when Anya appeared, slightly out of breath. Harry grinned, almost reflexively.

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere. Great job, Asher, Everest. Your defense was so clean.”

Asher smiled. Her shoulders finally dropped.

Laramie asked for group photos—which, honestly, Asher couldn’t turn down.

Something felt different. She needed to be held in photos, needed to be seen. As laughter filled the courtyard and the wind swept her hair, Lara took candid shots of her from all angles. She felt like her feet left the ground.

Hard to explain—but maybe it was tied to this strange new feeling inside her.

A small commotion stirred behind them.

“What’s going on?” Lara asked.

“Oren,” Everest said knowingly. “He should be out in three, two…”

The crowd parted, and Oren slipped through, raking a hand through his golden blond hair.

Asher’s heart skipped.

There he was.

The breeze tossed his unbuttoned shirt, revealing a plain tee underneath. He lifted his sunglasses to rest on his head.

His eyes.

“The latest finals of 2017!” he called out, approaching with a party popper.

“Don’t move,” he warned. Then—pop!—confetti burst into the air.

Lara giggled as she picked bits from her hair. “It’s so nice to have you with us.”

Oren grinned, turning to Asher. “Congratulations.”