After completing all our tasks and backups, I shut the system down with a sigh of relief. "Done," I said, stretching my arms.
"Finally," Nishanth agreed, pushing his chair back. "Let's go find sir and take that BTS photo?"
I nodded. We stepped out of the lab and made our way down the corridor, feeling the slow buzz of excitement building up. When we spotted computer sir near the staff room, we quickly caught up with him.
"Sir, just a minute," I said. "Can we take a picture with you? For the magazine credits… you know, behind-the-scenes team?"
He blinked for a moment, then smiled. "Of course. Let's go."
The three of us walked toward the stage. As we neared the auditorium, I noticed the transformation—stage décor was almost done. Streamers, fairy lights, backdrop banners with bright colours. There were no performers yet, just a few students with badges checking the mics, sound system, and adjusting cables. Everything was oddly peaceful—the kind of calm that comes right before a whirlwind.
We stood in front of the stage, right below the steps. It felt surreal. We had seen this spot in sketches and drafts when designing the magazine layout, and now we were standing right in front of it.
I turned around and spotted a junior volunteer holding a phone. "Hey, can you help us take a quick photo?"
She nodded enthusiastically. Nishanth stood on one side of sir, and I stood on the other. The three of us smiled, slightly awkward but proud. She clicked a few shots and showed them to me to confirm. One of them was just right—the stage behind us, lights half-glowing, a quiet moment captured before the noise of celebration began.
"Thank you, sir," I said.
He nodded, "You two have done well. Now go enjoy the rest of the evening."
As we walked away, I looked at the photo again on my phone. Maybe no one else would understand how much this meant—but for us, it was a memory we'd earned.
After the photo with computer sir, it was nearly lunchtime. The quiet hum of anticipation had started to thrum louder in the background, and students were trickling out of their duties for a quick break before the final rush began.
Me and Nishanth walked side by side towards the hostel blocks, cutting through the courtyard where a few volunteers were hanging last-minute posters.
"So," I started, keeping pace with him. "Program starts at 5 or 6?"
He shrugged. "They still haven't confirmed. Safe to assume 5:30 and be ready before that."
I nodded. "Either way, you'll need to get ready. You're performing, so change out of this traditional dress. Wear your dance costume."
"Hmm," he said, adjusting his dupatta-like stole dramatically. "I actually like this look."
I smirked. "Yes, but your dance team might not. Just bring this outfit along with you. After the performance, change and come backstage. We'll need your help there."
"I already talked to the backstage volunteers," he replied, a little proudly. "My performance is one of the first five. I'll be back before the crowd even settles."
"Perfect." I looked at him for a second and softened my tone. "Stop worrying about the magazine, okay? We've done what we could. All the interviews, design, first edits, photos—everything's ready. Now just enjoy your moment on stage."
He glanced at me and smiled. "So, what are you going to do?"
"Same," I said. "I'll go get changed, help my friends get ready for their performances—makeup, pinning costumes, fixing hair—and just… enjoy the freshers' day vibe before the program begins."
"You're not anxious about the magazine at all?" he asked, almost like he didn't believe me.
I stopped at the foot of the hostel stairs and looked at him. "You live only once. I'm not going to let stress ruin something I've been looking forward to. We've done the hard part. Now it's time to live the day we planned for."
He gave a thoughtful nod. "I'm gonna remember that."
"Good," I said, laughing. "Now go. If you trip on stage because your costume was rushed, it's not my fault."
He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm going, I'm going!"
We both reached the edge of the hostel block. From here, the paths split—one to the boys' hostel and the other to the girls'. We paused for a second.
"See you backstage?" he asked.
"See you backstage," I confirmed.
And with that, we split off into our respective corridors, the buzz of celebration already beginning to echo through the campus.
When I entered the dorm, the energy in the air was electric. The girls were still in their normal clothes, scattered across the room in different corners, going through their dance steps one final time. The music was playing low from a phone kept in a steel tumbler for extra volume, and their synchronization surprised me—they were nailing it.
I leaned against the doorway and watched for a few seconds before clapping lightly. "Girls, enough with the practice. Time for lunch."
Prerna stopped mid-spin, panting. "Lunch already?"
"Yes," I said, glancing at the wall clock. "And we don't want to be running on empty during the performance."
Without much protest, everyone put on their slippers, tied up their hair, and we all walked down together to the mess. The mood was lighter than the morning. A few of us giggled about how tightly the dupattas had to be pinned today and who would forget their steps first out of sheer excitement. We ate quickly, barely tasting the food, and rushed back to the dorm as if the few minutes gained would make a huge difference.
Once we entered, I stood near the center and raised my voice, "Okay, listen up! We have 3–4 hours before freshers begins. Anyone who wants to take a short nap, now is your time. But I'd say by 3:00, we should all start getting ready—hair, makeup, everything. It'll take longer than we expect."
A few nodded, some yawned. Mahathi stretched and said, "Even 30 minutes of sleep will help. I don't want to look like a panda in pictures."
Everyone laughed as the dorm slowly quieted down. Lights were dimmed, fans whirring gently. I didn't feel sleepy though. My mind was buzzing with everything we had to do—but it was a peaceful kind of buzz, not the panicky one.
So, I reached into the cupboard and pulled out the novel I had half-finished. I curled into my bed, the mirror-work canopy still folded and safely packed, and opened the book. I smiled as the familiar words pulled me in. Soon this quiet bubble would burst. Makeup, excitement, music, lights, nerves—and after that, the magazine. For now, the dorm was a rare moment of calm before the performance storm.
And I wanted to enjoy every second of it.