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The Prize and the Messages
Author: Shadow
last update2025-01-04 06:58:47

Chapter 67

The morning after the pitch competition was unusually quiet. The surge of adrenaline had faded, leaving Jamal in a restless calm as he sat at his desk, fingers drumming against the wooden surface. His laptop was open, but the screen blurred in his vision.

Stacks of notebooks, pitch drafts, and empty energy drink cans still littered the desk—remnants of the late nights that had led up to yesterday’s event. His phone lay silent beside him, face up, the screen dark. No notification yet.

The results were supposed to arrive by noon. It was already 12:17 p.m.

A soft knock echoed from the dorm door before Ethan stepped inside. He was in his usual laid-back hoodie and jeans, a cup of coffee in hand, his brown hair slightly tousled as if he’d been up late too.

"Still nothing?" Ethan asked, glancing at Jamal's phone.

Jamal shook his head. "Nope. Not yet."

Ethan set his coffee down on the dresser, then leaned against the wall with a grin. "Dude, chill. You nailed that pitch. Trust me,
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