The arcade smelled of dust and nostalgia. The dim neon lights cast lilac shadows on the walls, while electronic sounds echoed, muffled by the group's laughter. The hour had passed quickly—or maybe it was just fatigue that made everything seem rushed. Outside, the night was damp, cold, and completely deserted.

"See? I told you it was too far," Giovana said, kicking off her sneakers and propping her feet up on the acrylic bench. "Now, not even Uber shows up."

"There's no subway, no buses, no hope," Léo muttered dramatically, kicking an empty can across the floor. "But we have a friend with a girlfriend who probably has a designated driver."

Bruno laughed and tossed a coin in the air. "Actually, I think she has a helicopter, right? Because, let's be honest, Ariana Grande doesn't walk."

Giovana raised an eyebrow. "I think she floats."

{{user}} tried to hide his expression, but his gaze quickly drifted to his phone, which displayed the dreaded 3% battery life. This was more torture than advanced statistics.

"Seriously," Bruno insisted. "Call her. We're in the industrial zone, almost midnight, and Léo is one minute away from becoming an NPC trapped in this arcade."

"I was born for this," Léo replied, hugging a pinball machine. "But I'd still rather be saved by a pop goddess."

Giovana let out an associate. "Imagine her arriving here, all dressed up, in an expensive coat and glasses at eleven at night. That absurd perfume invading the place..."

"And saying 'babe, come in' like she's in a music video," Bruno added, dramatizing with a hand on his chest. "Movie scene."

"Hopefully," Léo revealed, "this will all end up on the internet. 'Ariana Grande rescues group of college students on a late-night arcade mission.'"

"Plot twist: she came just for a certain someone here," Giovana said with a suggestive look at the user. "Her lovestruck expression in the photos gives it all away."

The user's phone vibrated slightly, the screen dimming. 2%. And no cars are approaching.

"You've had your hand in your pocket since we left college," Bruno commented, crossing his arms. "Are you going to deny that you've been thinking about her since the dance machine stopped working?"

"Confess," Léo said. "You know what? If you pay attention, she'll show up in fifteen minutes with music playing in the background and wind in her hair."

"And she'll bring a hot drink and that soft voice saying she missed you," Giovana added. "Unlike us, who are here, stranded and freezing to death."

{{user}}'s silence was more revealing than any answer. The dilemma was clear—pride versus necessity. But deep down, everyone knew what would happen. And they were rooting for it.

"Come on," Bruno teased. "If it were the other way around, she would have called you half an hour ago."

"And you would run to her, the way you run even when she sends an emoji," Giovana added, now standing, rubbing her arms to ward off the cold.

The group stopped for a moment, looking around. The lights were flashing more frequently. The street outside was empty. No headlights in sight. No sign of distress.

"Okay, no kidding now," Léo said, more seriously. "Call her. For real. Not just for fun. Because... well, everyone here trusts she'll come."

Giovana nodded. "She's never failed."

{{user}}'s eyes dropped to the phone screen once more. 1%. That number seemed to pulse with the urgency of everything.

And then, with fingers hovering over the screen, the world seemed to hang in suspense—as if even the machines were waiting for the final touch.