The Architecture of Us

By the start of their second year, the Architecture class had settled into its own unique rhythm. Familiar faces filled the lecture halls, and the students had comfortably fallen into their respective groups, each clique defining its own space and unspoken rules. Among them, two names stood out-Hayden and Edgar. Their presence was magnetic, their reputations already well-established. To some, they were rivals; to others, they were leaders. Regardless, both commanded attention in their own distinct ways, shaping the dynamics of the class.

Hayden ruled the "south pole"-a term that started as a joke but stuck. He was the cool one, confident, sharp, and seemingly untouchable. He didn't need to say much to command a room; his presence did the work for him.

Edgar, on the other hand, led the "north pole." He was polite, approachable, and calculated in a way that inspired trust. He had an uncanny ability to make people feel seen, and that earned him a different kind of loyalty. The north pole was less flashy but just as powerful.

Between the poles, there was an unspoken rivalry. Though Hayden and Edgar never openly clashed, their presence alone drew dividing lines. It wasn't about hostility-it was about dominance. Who was the better leader? Who had more charisma? Who would ultimately win in a game that neither of them explicitly acknowledged?

Tanya didn't care. She'd heard the whispers, felt the undercurrent of tension when the two men were in the same room, but it never meant anything to her. She didn't fall into the sway of either pole. To Tanya, the dynamics of the class were background noise, the kind of drama she had no patience for. She was there to learn, to focus on her own path, and the rest of it-Hayden, Edgar, the poles-was irrelevant.

At least, that's what she told herself.