The sharp ring of Ferdinand's alarm clock shattered the silence of his dorm room, pulling him out of the depths of an unnervingly deep sleep. He blinked groggily, disoriented, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of where and when he was. The sun streamed in through the small window, and he could tell from its position that it was late in the morning—much later than he ever allowed himself to wake.
Ferdinand sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the heavy weight of sleep that still clung to him. His head felt foggy, and his body ached from lying in one position for too long. He glanced at the clock, the numbers glaring back at him: 10:42 AM. Panic surged through him as he realized that not only had he overslept, but he had also slept through an entire day.
"Impossible," he muttered to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the cold floor, and the shock of it helped clear his head a little. He tried to piece together the events that had led to this moment. The last thing he remembered was sitting at his desk, scribbling notes in his journal and updating his spreadsheet about Daisy. He'd been exhausted, but the work had felt important, necessary. He had to document everything about her, to make sense of the feelings she stirred in him.
But now, over twenty-four hours had passed, and he had no memory of falling asleep, let alone sleeping through the entire day. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, scrolling through the missed messages and notifications. They only confirmed his worst fears: he had missed a whole day's worth of appointments, tasks, and deadlines. Most critically, he had neglected preparations for a significant business meeting with investors that was scheduled for tomorrow. The realization hit him hard, and he felt the pressure building in his chest, the kind that always came with the thought of failing at something important.
He forced himself to take deep breaths, to focus on the immediate task at hand. He couldn't afford to waste any more time in confusion or self-pity. He had to prepare for that meeting, to ensure that nothing went wrong. There would be time later to figure out what had happened, but right now, he needed to regain control.
Ferdinand stood up, ignoring the stiffness in his muscles, and walked over to his desk. The journal was still there, open to the last page he had written on. He scanned the notes, the detailed observations he had made about Daisy. Everything was exactly as he had left it, and seeing it in front of him brought a small measure of relief. She was real, and his time with her hadn't been a dream or a figment of his imagination. The entries in his planner corroborated this—the neat letters he had scribbled down, with each code corresponding to his growing feelings for her. The letters "K" and "N" stared back at him from the pages, a stark reminder of just how deeply she had affected him in such a short time.
But even with the evidence in front of him, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. How could someone like Daisy, who had seemed to slip so effortlessly into his life, have such a profound impact on him? And what kind of magic had caused him to lose an entire day after being with her?
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. There was no time for this. He had a business deal to prepare for. It was critical for his future, for everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Investors would be scrutinizing every detail of his proposal, and he couldn't afford to let his personal life interfere. He needed to compartmentalize, to push Daisy and the confusion of the past day into a corner of his mind, at least until after the meeting.
Ferdinand spent the rest of the morning and afternoon poring over documents, reviewing financial projections, and fine-tuning his presentation. He worked with a laser focus, shutting out everything else. The more he immersed himself in the work, the more he felt like himself again—calm, collected, in control.
But as the day wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across his desk, Ferdinand found his thoughts drifting back to Daisy. He wondered where she was, what she was doing. Had she gone to the library today, hoping to see him? The thought of her sitting alone, waiting for him, filled him with a pang of guilt. He had no way of contacting her, no way of explaining what had happened.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't just ignore what had happened. He had to see her again, to make sure she was real, to reassure himself that he hadn't imagined everything. Maybe seeing her would bring back the sense of clarity he needed.
As the evening approached, Ferdinand found himself drawn to the bench where they had spent time together, where she had listened to him so intently and where he had felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—a connection. He hadn't planned to go there, but before he knew it, he was standing up, grabbing his jacket, and heading out the door.
The campus was quiet, the fading light of the evening casting everything in a soft, golden hue. The air was cool and crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Ferdinand walked with purpose, his heart beating a little faster with each step. He wasn't sure what he would say to her when he saw her, but he knew he needed to see her.
When he reached the bench, he found it empty. His heart sank, disappointment washing over him. He had half-expected her to be there, waiting for him, but the bench was just an ordinary piece of wood and metal, offering no answers. He sat down anyway, letting out a deep breath as he looked around the campus. The place felt different now, quieter and more somber. Without Daisy's presence, it lacked the warmth and vibrancy he had come to associate with it.
He waited there for a long time, watching as the sky darkened and the first stars appeared overhead. But Daisy never showed up. Eventually, he had to accept that she wasn't coming. Maybe she was busy, or perhaps she had decided that she had better things to do than sit on a bench and wait for a man who had seemingly disappeared without a trace.
The thought troubled him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had to focus on the business deal, on securing his future. Daisy, as much as she occupied his thoughts, would have to wait.
The next morning, Ferdinand woke up early, feeling more rested and clear-headed than he had the day before. The strange fog that had clouded his mind seemed to have lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of determination. Today was the day of the investor meeting, and he needed to be at his best.
Ferdinand dressed with meticulous care, selecting a royal blue three-piece suit that exuded both confidence and sophistication. The suit fit him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his lean frame, and as he smoothed down the lapels, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The weight of the previous day's confusion had not entirely lifted, but he was determined to push through it. His future depended on his ability to focus, to compartmentalize his emotions, and present himself as the capable, assured man he had always been.
Ferdinand picked up his journal from the desk, flipping through the pages filled with notes and observations about her. Each line was a testament to her existence, proof that she was more than just a figment of his imagination. He had written these words, felt these emotions. She was real. She had to be.
Still, the doubt remained, a small, persistent voice whispering in the back of his mind. How could someone like Daisy have such a profound effect on him, altering the very fabric of his reality? It was as if she had cast a spell on him, one that had caused him to lose track of time, to lose control in a way he never had before.
Ferdinand closed the journal and set it back on the desk, taking a deep breath. He had to believe in what he had experienced, had to trust that Daisy was real. Otherwise, he would lose himself in the confusion, and he couldn't afford to do that—not today.
He picked up his backpack, ensuring that everything he needed was inside. The briefcase might have been more traditional, but the backpack was a symbol of his dual life—part business, part student. It grounded him, reminded him of where he had come from and where he was headed.
Taking a final look around his dorm room, Ferdinand drew in a deep breath. This room had seen him through many challenges, had witnessed his late-night struggles, his moments of doubt, and now it would be the starting point for one of the most important days of his life.
He walked to the door, his steps measured and deliberate. With one last glance back at the room that had been his sanctuary, he closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the stillness of the hallway. The chapter ended with that sound, the door sealing away the uncertainty and ushering him forward into whatever awaited him outside.