Chereads / Just the Two of Us! / Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: A Calculated Life

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: A Calculated Life

The dorm room was a study in organized chaos, a space where intellect and creativity coexisted in a delicate balance. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books that ranged from classic literature to dense economic theory, their spines worn from frequent use. His desk, positioned near the large window that overlooked the campus, was cluttered with notebooks, pens, and the occasional stray paper, yet everything seemed to have its place. The light from a vintage desk lamp cast a warm glow over the room, highlighting the subtle details—an Omega watch resting on a leather tray, a small collection of coffee mugs with faint rings staining their bottoms, and a framed photograph of a distant mountain range, a quiet nod to the adventures he often dreamed of but rarely pursued. The room was tidy yet lived-in, a reflection of Ferdinand's meticulous yet introspective nature, where every item held meaning and every corner told a story.

Ferdinand stood at 5 feet 9 inches, his build slender but subtly athletic, suggesting someone who took care of himself without being overtly concerned about appearances. His skin was light, with hints of golden undertones that seemed to catch the light in just the right way, giving him a warm, almost sun-kissed glow. It was the kind of complexion that hinted at time spent outdoors, though not excessively so—a balance between the quiet of the library and the occasional venture into the open air.

His hair was a rich brunette, naturally wavy and often tousled in a way that made it seem like he'd just run his fingers through it—a habit of his when deep in thought. It framed his face with an effortless charm, not too long to be unruly, yet not so short as to be overly neat. There was an unstudied ease to it, as though he'd found the perfect middle ground between caring and not caring about his appearance.

Ferdinand's eyes were a deep, intense brown, their color deepened by the occasional flash of gold that appeared when the light hit them just right. They were eyes that spoke of a mind always at work, analyzing, calculating, but also eyes that held a quiet kindness, an understanding of the world's complexities. These were eyes that often lingered on the pages of books, reflecting the depths of the stories he immersed himself in, yet they also had a way of subtly observing the people around him, taking in details others might miss.

He often wore a simple pair of black-framed glasses, more functional than fashionable, but they suited him. The glasses gave him an air of intellect, as if they were a natural extension of the thoughtful person he was. They were less a barrier and more a lens through which he viewed the world—a filter that added clarity to his already sharp mind.

On his wrist, Ferdinand wore an Omega watch, a piece he had chosen for himself, a small indulgence that symbolized his appreciation for craftsmanship and precision. The watch was understated but elegant, with a classic design that matched his personality—timeless, reliable, and quietly confident. It wasn't something he flaunted, but it was always there, a reminder of the careful decisions he made in every aspect of his life.

His wardrobe was equally unpretentious. Ferdinand favored a mix of casual and smart-casual clothing, often seen in well-fitted jeans or chinos paired with button-down shirts in muted tones. He appreciated quality over quantity, opting for pieces that could stand the test of time, much like the watch on his wrist. His clothes were comfortable but carried a certain sophistication, a reflection of his personality—grounded, thoughtful, and unassuming.

Despite his carefully considered appearance, Ferdinand had an effortless charm that drew people in, though he often remained oblivious to the attention he garnered. He wasn't one to seek the spotlight, preferring instead to blend into his surroundings, whether it be the quiet corner of a library or the subtle anonymity of a crowd. Yet, there was no denying the quiet strength and allure that seemed to radiate from him, a presence that was hard to ignore even when he tried his best to remain unnoticed.

Ferdinand's day began with the harsh blare of his alarm, jolting him out of a restless sleep. He groggily reached out to silence it, knocking over a few scattered papers in the process. A half-finished assignment, his to-do list, and the draft of a research paper all slid off the edge of the nightstand. He stared at the mess for a moment, feeling a familiar pang of anxiety gnaw at him—another day, another mountain of tasks to conquer.

He quickly dressed, opting for his usual combination of a crisp shirt and dark jeans. Glancing at the clock, he realized he had less than ten minutes to get to his first class. Breakfast was out of the question, as usual. Grabbing his backpack, he rushed out the door, his mind already ticking through the day's agenda—classes, meetings, study sessions, and somehow, finding time to work on his latest research project.

The campus was alive with the early morning rush, but Ferdinand barely noticed as he weaved through the crowd. He arrived at the lecture hall just as the professor began speaking, sliding into a seat at the back. The lecture was on a topic he normally enjoyed, but today, his mind kept drifting to the other responsibilities waiting for him.

Once the class ended, Ferdinand quickly gathered his things and headed to the library. His group project meeting was up next, and the pressure was mounting. The project was due in a few days, and there was still so much left to do. He joined his group in a study room, where the conversation quickly turned to heated debates over methodology and data interpretation. Everyone was on edge, and it wasn't long before the discussion became more tense than productive.

Ferdinand tried to keep the group focused, but his own energy was waning. The previous night's lack of sleep and skipped breakfast were catching up to him, making it hard to concentrate. His stomach growled, but he pushed the discomfort aside, telling himself he'd eat later—after the meeting, after his library shift, after everything else that needed his attention.

The meeting finally wrapped up, and Ferdinand hurried off to his part-time job at the library. The tasks there were routine but numerous—reshelving books, helping students find resources, and managing the circulation desk. Normally, the quiet environment of the library was a welcome respite, but today it felt like just another layer of responsibility. He moved through his duties on autopilot, his thoughts clouded by fatigue.

In the midst of his shift, Ferdinand remembered a trade he had placed earlier that morning. The market had been volatile, and he had spotted an opportunity—a stock that was showing all the signs of a quick rebound. He had made the decision swiftly, calculating the risks in his mind before executing the trade. As he checked his phone during a brief lull, a notification flashed across the screen: a profit of 885 euros. It was a small victory in a day that felt otherwise overwhelming, but there was no time to dwell on it. There was still work to be done.

Hours passed, and the day blurred into a continuous stream of activity. There was no time for a proper lunch, just a quick snack grabbed between helping students and updating the library's database. By the time his shift ended, he was running on fumes, yet he still had more work to do. There were readings to catch up on, assignments to complete, and a looming deadline for a paper that he hadn't even started.

Ferdinand found a quiet corner in the library and pulled out his laptop, determined to make some progress. But as he stared at the screen, the words seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He rubbed his temples, trying to push through the fog of exhaustion, but the day's strain had left him drained.

It wasn't until he glanced at his watch that he realized he had missed dinner entirely. The campus dining hall was closed by now, and the thought of going back to his dorm to scrounge up something to eat felt like more effort than it was worth. His stomach protested, but Ferdinand ignored it, telling himself he'd eat later—there was too much to do right now.

Finally, at 11 p.m., the library's closing time, Ferdinand packed up his things. He was the last to leave, stepping out into the cool, dark night. The campus, once bustling with activity, was now eerily quiet, the only sounds being the distant hum of the streetlights and the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel path. The loneliness of the night pressed in on him as he made his way back to his dorm, the path lit only by the occasional lamp post.

The walk was long and solitary, and the shadows cast by the trees seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness. The weight of the day's tasks still clung to him, but there was also a small sense of accomplishment—the 885 euros from his trade, the progress made on his assignments, and the simple fact that he had made it through another day.

As he finally reached his dorm, Ferdinand felt the exhaustion settle deep into his bones. Tomorrow would bring another round of challenges, another day of pushing himself to the limit. But for now, all he could think about was collapsing into bed and letting the world fade away, if only for a few hours.