The cafeteria hummed with life. The clatter of trays, the low murmur of students deep in conversation, the occasional burst of laughter—it was a familiar rhythm, one Liana had long grown used to. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries lingered in the air, mixing with the sharper notes of fried food from the serving counters.
She sat at her usual spot by the window, absentmindedly poking at the food on her tray. Sunlight streamed in, casting a golden hue over the table, making the steam from her coffee dance in the air.
"Did you hear? I got the contract!" Mira slid into the seat across from her, nearly knocking over Liana's coffee in her excitement. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, eyes bright with the kind of joy that made it impossible not to smile along. "I'm producing an actual ad campaign for an actual brand. Do you know what this means?"
Sophie arrived a second later, balancing a tray with the grace of someone who had mastered the art of avoiding cafeteria disasters. She sat down with a grin. "It means we won't hear the end of it for at least a month."
Mira ignored the jab, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "It means that my genius has finally been recognized. The world is about to witness the birth of an era."
Sophie snorted. "The Mira Era?"
"Exactly."
Liana chuckled, shaking her head as Mira continued basking in her self-made glory.
Sophie unwrapped her sandwich and turned to Liana. "Anyway, enough about her impending world domination. How was your weekend?"
Liana twirled the edge of her napkin between her fingers, offering a small shrug. "Same old, same old."
Mira groaned, throwing her head back. "Liana, come on. You're nineteen. Life is just starting. You need to do something exciting. Live a little!"
Sophie pointed at Mira with a fry. "Says the girl who spent her entire weekend editing a commercial for toothpaste."
"First of all, it was premium toothpaste," Mira shot back. "And second, it's called building a portfolio. Some of us are out here thriving, Sophie."
Sophie rolled her eyes, laughing. "Well, some of us actually have a life. And by some of us, I mean me." She leaned forward, a spark of excitement in her expression. "Katie and I finally shot the music video this weekend."
Mira's eyes widened. "No way! The one with the neon lights and the choreography?"
Sophie nodded proudly. "Yep. And let me tell you, it was chaos. At one point, Katie almost set her hair on fire with a sparkler. And I might have fallen off a speaker while trying to do a dramatic turn."
Liana arched a brow. "You might have?"
Sophie sighed. "Okay, fine. I did. But in my defense, it looked cool before the landing."
Mira burst into laughter. "I need to see this footage."
Liana smiled, watching them go back and forth. The energy they brought—light, effortless, and full of life—was something she envied in quiet moments.
"Seriously, Liana, you should come with us next time," Sophie said, nudging her arm. "I know you say you're fine, but wouldn't it be fun to do something new for once?"
Liana took a sip of her coffee, the warmth spreading through her, grounding her for a moment. She appreciated their concern, truly. But she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. That she wanted to feel excited about something? That she sometimes wondered if she was missing out on some grand purpose everyone else seemed to have?
So instead, she laughed lightly, shaking her head. "I think I'm fine as I am."
Mira groaned but let it go, turning the conversation back to her project. Sophie jumped in, debating color palettes and camera angles. Liana listened, nodding at the right moments, but the words blurred together. The world outside the window seemed more interesting—the passing cars, the shifting clouds, the faint reflection of her own face in the glass.
For now, this was enough.
Or at least, that's what she told herself.
---
Liana was mid-laugh when the first scream tore through the air. It wasn't the usual city noise, nor the sharp cry of an argument—it was raw, panicked.
The cafeteria buzz faded as students turned toward the windows. Liana followed their gazes, her breath catching.
Outside, a flood of people surged through the streets, shoving past one another, terror twisting their faces. Not a protest—no one was yelling demands, no banners waved in the air. This was something else.
Then—sirens. Police cars screamed down the road, blue and red flashing wildly. Helicopters hovered in the distance, moving toward the chaos.
The cafeteria, moments ago filled with light chatter, now stood in silence, dozens of students pressed against the glass. Someone muttered, "What's going on?"
Then came the first gunshots. A sharp crack, then another. Then a storm—a rain of bullets, deafening and relentless.
Liana's stomach dropped. This wasn't a containment. This was like war.