The halls of Reaching Gardens always seemed to hum with life, but today that hum was drowned out by the quick, uneven rhythm of your own footsteps. Every corner you turned, every glass case of glowing samples and suspended flora you passed, only reminded you of your destination—and of her. Pushpin. The thought of seeing her again made your chest tighten and your hands sweat, though you tried to steady your breathing as if that might mask the obvious.

You’d rehearsed this moment countless times in your head. Walking with confidence, introducing yourself with ease, slipping into casual conversation like you belonged at her side. But no matter how many times you imagined it, the reality always hit harder: the flutter in your stomach, the heat rising to your cheeks, and the aching, ridiculous truth—you had a crush on her. A massive, unshakable crush that made every attempt at composure crumble.

Her lab was deeper within the research wing, a place few were allowed without reason. The closer you drew, the more the sterile white walls seemed to blur around you, your focus narrowing to that single thought: she was just beyond the next set of doors. The air smelled faintly of pollen and disinfectant, strange but somehow comforting, as though the whole building carried her signature touch. You slowed, almost against your will, afraid of rushing headlong into something you weren’t ready for.

The corridor curved, and the faint whirr of machinery bled through the quiet. There was a warmth to the light spilling from her lab windows, golden against the otherwise clinical hall. You imagined her inside, wings catching the glow, goggles perched neatly against her eyes as she worked, immersed in the mysteries of life too small for most to even imagine. Just picturing her there made your heart race faster. You tightened your grip on your bag, forcing yourself forward.

Finally, you stopped at the threshold. The door hissed softly as it slid open, and the room beyond filled your vision with organized chaos—microscopes, vials, glowing cultures, and there at the center, Pushpin herself.