*February 15th - Thesis Defense Day*
Haruki woke to the sound of Noa moving quietly around her room at six in the morning, two hours before her alarm was set to go off. Through the thin dorm walls, he could hear her making coffee and shuffling papers—the restless energy of someone who'd been awake for hours, running through presentation points and potential questions.
He knocked softly on her door. "Noa? You okay?"
"Come in," she called, and he found her sitting at her desk in pajamas, surrounded by note cards and looking like she'd been awake all night.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"A few hours. I kept thinking of things I should clarify in my presentation." She gestured to a pile of freshly written notes. "What if they ask about the limitations of my sample size? What if they want more detail about my coding methodology?"
"Then you'll answer their questions. You know this material better than anyone."
"Do I? Sometimes I feel like I've been staring at it so long I can't see it clearly anymore."
Haruki sat down beside her, taking in her anxious energy and the evidence of early morning preparation scattered across her desk.
"What if we went through your main points one more time? Not the whole presentation, just the key findings you want to make sure you communicate clearly."
"Would you? I know you've heard this a million times, but—"
"I want to help. Tell me the three most important things you discovered in this research."
Noa took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. "First, that childhood attachment patterns significantly predict therapeutic outcomes, but not in the ways most literature suggests."
"Good. What's different about your findings?"
"Previous research assumed secure attachment led to better therapy outcomes across all interventions. But I found that anxiously attached individuals actually respond better to certain types of therapy, while securely attached people benefit more from others."
"That's a significant discovery."
"Second, that attachment patterns aren't fixed. People can develop more secure patterns through therapeutic intervention, but the process looks different depending on their starting point."
"And third?"
"That traditional therapy assessment tools don't adequately measure attachment flexibility—the ability to develop healthier patterns over time."
"Those are three substantial contributions to the field, Noa. Any one of them would be significant for a thesis."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And more importantly, your committee knows so. They wouldn't have approved your defense if they didn't think your work was valuable."
---
At nine o'clock, they met in the dining hall for what Noa called "last meal before execution," though she was too nervous to eat much of her breakfast. Other students moved through their normal morning routines while Noa sat in her professional clothes, rehearsing answers to potential questions.
"What time do you need to be there?" Haruki asked, watching her push eggs around her plate without actually eating them.
"Ten-thirty for setup. Defense starts at eleven."
"And you're sure you want me there?"
"Absolutely. Dr. Yamamoto said I could invite a few people, and I want you there. You've been part of this process from the beginning."
"I'm honored to be included."
"You're not just included—you're essential. This whole experience has been easier because I had someone who believed in the work even when I was doubting it."
Professor Akizuki appeared at their table, looking pleased and slightly formal in her best academic attire.
"Good morning, Noa. Ready for your big day?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, Professor Akizuki."
"Please, call me Nyx today. We're colleagues now, not just teacher and student."
"That's terrifying and wonderful at the same time."
"It should be both. Haruki, are you planning to attend?"
"If it's appropriate. I don't want to intrude on academic proceedings."
"It's completely appropriate. Noa's research has implications for the kind of work you're doing too. You might find the questions and discussion useful for your own graduate school planning."
---
The conference room where Noa's defense was being held looked more formal than Haruki had expected, with a long table where the committee members sat and a podium where Noa would present her work. Dr. Yamamoto introduced the other committee members—Dr. Chen from clinical psychology, Professor Martinez from research methodology, and Dr. Kim from developmental psychology.
"This is an open defense," Dr. Yamamoto explained to the small audience that included Haruki, Professor Akizuki, and several graduate students. "You're welcome to observe, but please hold questions until the committee has finished their evaluation."
Noa took her place at the podium, and Haruki watched her transform from nervous student into confident researcher. Her voice was clear and professional as she began her presentation.
"Good morning. I'm here to defend my thesis examining the relationship between childhood attachment patterns and therapeutic outcomes in young adult populations."
She moved through her introduction with the confidence that came from months of preparation, explaining her research questions, methodology, and the significance of her findings. Haruki had heard versions of this presentation dozens of times, but watching her deliver it to an academic committee felt momentous.
"The central finding of this research is that attachment patterns predict therapeutic outcomes, but not in the uniform way that current literature suggests," she continued, clicking to a slide showing her data analysis. "Anxiously attached individuals show better responses to structured, directive interventions, while securely attached participants benefit more from exploratory, client-centered approaches."
Dr. Chen leaned forward with obvious interest. "Can you elaborate on the implications for clinical practice?"
"This research suggests that therapeutic interventions should be matched not just to presenting symptoms, but to underlying attachment patterns. A one-size-fits-all approach may be less effective than tailored interventions based on how clients form and maintain relationships."
The questions continued for forty-five minutes, ranging from methodology details to theoretical implications to suggestions for future research. Haruki watched Noa handle each inquiry with thoughtfulness and expertise, clearly demonstrating her deep understanding of the work.
"What do you see as the limitations of your current study?" Professor Martinez asked.
"The sample size was limited to one university population, which may not be generalizable to other demographics. Additionally, the follow-up period was relatively short—longer-term studies would be needed to assess the durability of attachment pattern changes."
"How would you address those limitations in future research?"
"I'd like to pursue multi-site studies with more diverse populations, and implement longitudinal designs that track participants over several years to assess lasting changes in both attachment patterns and therapeutic outcomes."
Dr. Kim smiled. "It sounds like you're already planning your dissertation research."
"I am. This thesis has raised as many questions as it's answered, and I'm excited to continue investigating these patterns in graduate school."
---
After Noa finished her presentation, the committee asked the observers to step outside while they deliberated. Haruki, Professor Akizuki, and the graduate students gathered in the hallway, where nervous energy mixed with excitement about what they'd just witnessed.
"She was brilliant," Professor Akizuki said immediately. "Confident, knowledgeable, and able to engage with complex questions without getting defensive."
"Do you think they'll approve it?" Haruki asked.
"I think they'll do more than approve it. I think they're going to recommend it for honors."
"Really?"
"Her findings are genuinely innovative, and she demonstrated real expertise in defending her methodology and interpreting her results."
They waited for twenty minutes before Dr. Yamamoto opened the door and invited them back in. Noa stood beside her committee, looking anxious but hopeful.
"Noa," Dr. Yamamoto began formally, "your committee has reviewed your thesis defense and reached a unanimous decision."
Haruki held his breath.
"Your research demonstrates significant contribution to the field, methodological rigor, and clear implications for clinical practice. We're pleased to approve your thesis with distinction."
"With distinction?" Noa's voice was barely a whisper.
"Your work merits recognition for its innovation and potential impact. Congratulations, you've successfully completed your undergraduate thesis requirements."
The room erupted in applause, and Haruki watched Noa's face transform from anxiety to disbelief to pure joy. Professor Akizuki was beaming, the graduate students were cheering, and the committee members were shaking Noa's hand with genuine enthusiasm.
"Dr. Chen," Noa said, still looking stunned, "what does 'with distinction' mean for graduate school applications?"
"It means you've demonstrated exceptional research ability as an undergraduate. Combined with strong GRE scores and letters of recommendation, I think you'll have your choice of graduate programs."
"Really?"
"Really. In fact, I'd like to discuss the possibility of your applying to our program here. We have funding available for students with your qualifications."
---
Outside the conference room, Haruki pulled Noa into a hug that lasted longer than was probably appropriate for an academic building.
"You did it," he said against her hair. "You defended brilliantly, they approved with distinction, and Dr. Chen wants to recruit you for graduate school."
"I can't believe it's over. Eight months of work, and it's actually finished."
"How does it feel?"
"Surreal. Wonderful. Overwhelming." She pulled back to look at him. "Like I actually might be good at this academic research thing."
"You are good at this. You're more than good—you're exceptional."
Professor Akizuki approached them with a smile that suggested she had something important to say.
"Noa, I have a proposition for you."
"What kind of proposition?"
"Haruki and I are writing up his research for journal publication. Your thesis findings would complement his work beautifully. Would you be interested in co-authoring a paper on attachment patterns and relationship development?"
"You want me to co-author a paper with you?"
"We want you to co-author a paper with us. Your research deserves publication, and combining our findings would create a more comprehensive picture of attachment pattern development and intervention."
Noa looked between Professor Akizuki and Haruki, her expression moving from surprise to excitement.
"Yes," she said quickly. "Absolutely yes. I would love to co-author a paper with you."
"Excellent. Let's meet next week to discuss how to integrate our findings and plan our submission strategy."
---
That evening, they celebrated at the small restaurant off-campus where they'd had their first official date. Noa had changed out of her professional clothes into jeans and a sweater, but she still carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd just successfully defended significant academic work.
"So," Haruki said, raising his glass of wine, "to Dr. Noa, successful thesis defender and future co-author."
"I'm not a doctor yet. That requires a PhD."
"To future Dr. Noa, then."
"To us," she countered. "To supporting each other through academic challenges and celebrating each other's successes."
They clinked glasses, both processing the significance of the day and what it meant for their individual futures and shared goals.
"Can I tell you something?" Noa said after they'd ordered dinner.
"Always."
"This morning, I was terrified that I'd discover I wasn't actually good at research, that my thesis was fundamentally flawed, that I'd been fooling myself about my academic abilities."
"And now?"
"Now I know I can do this work. Not just complete assignments, but contribute something meaningful to the field. It feels like discovering a part of myself I didn't know existed."
"That part of yourself was always there. Today just made it official."
"What about you? How did it feel to watch me defend research that's related to the work you're doing?"
"Inspiring. And intimidating, honestly. You set a very high bar for academic excellence."
"Good thing you're planning to co-author papers with me instead of competing against me."
"The best thing. I can't think of anyone I'd rather work with—academically or personally."
Outside the restaurant window, February snow continued to fall over their small college town. But inside, surrounded by the warmth of celebration and shared accomplishment, two people who'd learned to support each other's individual growth sat planning the academic work they'd continue together.
It was exactly the kind of partnership that made everything else possible.
---
*End of Chapter 31*