The night before, after most of the youth had drifted to sleep, the headlights of the missing bus finally appeared at the edge of the retreat center road. Ella and the rest of the group arrived safely, tired but grateful. The whole retreat center briefly came alive with relief and soft cheers before quieting down again.
Morning came with the golden wash of sun spilling through the trees around the retreat center. It was a new day, Youth Conference day, and the grounds were already buzzing with energy. The retreat center, nestled at Khare village just outside the city of Denver, had become a vibrant patchwork of youth groups from different churches. Some were finishing breakfast on picnic tables, others laughing and greeting new friends. Banners were hung, instruments were being tuned, and the open field was being prepared for the worship performances.
This retreat wasn't just a competition, it had a heart. ago, the churches of Denver and nearby towns had come together to build this retreat center in support of the elderly in Khare village. Many of them lived alone, with little support. So every year, this Youth Conference was held not only as a time for worship and fellowship, but also as a fundraising event. Believers throughout the year donated to the fund, and the youth groups would perform, volunteer, and help clean the retreat and the surrounding village. The group that won the worship performance earned the honour of presenting the prize fund to the elderly, as a gesture of both love and dignity.
Back in the present, Rowan scanned the crowd. His eyes moved quickly through the groups of chatting teens and volunteers, but one person was missing.
"Have you seen Lynette?" he asked Cressa as they crossed paths near the kitchen.
"Oh, her?" Cressa laughed. "Still sleeping, obviously. That girl's soul hasn't returned to her body yet."
Rowan shook his head with a small smirk.
Sure enough, later at around 10 a.m., Lynette emerged from her cabin. Her hair was a little wild, her steps were lazy, and still in her pyjamas as she yawned and dragged her feet toward the kitchen. She splashed her face with water earlier, but it hadn't done much. She looked like a half-awake cartoon.
When she got to the kitchen, all the breakfast was already gone. A few leftover crumbs on trays, a half-empty water cooler. With a long sigh, she grabbed a cup of water and mumbled something to herself. As she walked back toward the cabins, rubbing her eyes, she felt something gently poke her cheek.
She blinked up slowly.
Rowan was standing on the steps to the cabin, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. In his hands, a bottle of milk. And in his hoodie pockets, bread and eggs.
"Can you even see how you're walking right now?" he asked, fighting back a laugh. Lynette turned her head slowly, one eye still shut, the other just barely open. Her voice was a sleepy mumble. "You're…"
Rowan chuckled. "Do you always wake up this late?"
Lynette didn't answer, just gave him a lazy, crooked smile.
He sighed and handed her the milk and bread. "Here"
They sat on the stairs together. Lynette tore into the bread, sipping milk with her other hand. Rowan sat beside her, quietly cracking the eggs into a cup so she wouldn't have to juggle too many things at once.
"Mmm, where is everyone?" she asked, her cheeks puffed from the bread like a squirrel.
"Eat slowly. You're gonna choke," Rowan said dryly.
She took a big gulp of milk and wiped her mouth. "So? Where are they?"
"Everyone went on a hike early this morning. They'll probably be back in an hour."
She looked at him, chewing, then blinked. "Then why are you here alone?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Lynette tilted her head and guessed, "You must hate hiking."
Rowan just laughed, a low chuckle, not denying it. He glanced at her sideways.
And in that moment, as she held a boiled egg in one hand, milk in the other, crumbs on her pyjamas, Rowan thought, she looked like a little hamster. A sleepy, adorable hamster.
She was messy, chaotic, and clearly not a morning person.
But somehow, she made this whole place feel like home.
Everyone returned from the hike late in the morning, their faces flushed and bright with stories from the early trek. Shoes muddy, shirts damp with sweat, and hearts full of laughter, they came back ready for the main event. The youth conference would begin in just a few hours, and this was their last chance to rehearse.
Inside the hall, the team began gathering near the stage, tuning instruments, doing mic checks, and running last-minute lines. Rowan stood near the door, eyes drifting constantly.
She's late again.
And right as he glanced one more time toward the path from the cabins, there she was.
Lynette stepped into the room, sunlight streaming behind her. She wore a soft yellow ruffled dress that fluttered around her knees, her hair tied back with a matching ribbon. She looked like she had walked straight out of a summer painting, bright, soft, and somehow glowing.
Rowan looked away fast, pretending not to notice.
But his eyes... they betrayed him with every sideways glance.
She smiled briefly in his direction, and he had to look away again, this time biting his lips to stop the smile that was threatening to take over.
They began their final rehearsal, syncing harmonies and final cues. Lynette's voice soared naturally with the group's flow, and the others followed her lead. After a quick break, Aron gathered everyone and began introducing them to the youth from other churches. There were handshakes, exchanged names, and brief jesting before the real event began.
Then came the time.
Everyone gathered in the hall, their hearts beating with anticipation. After a powerful prayer, the Youth Worship Conference began. One by one, churches from different areas took the stage. Each performance was met with cheers, praise, and admiration. Lynette and her group waited their turn, clapping along, taking notes, cheering louder than anyone.
Then their name was called.
It was time.
They stood on stage, and a quiet inhale passed through the group.
"1... 2... 3..."
The music swelled and voices rose.
Hands lifted into the air, hearts united in worship, the performance lit up the stage, not with perfection, but with passion. Lynette stood in the center, voice crystal clear, eyes filled with light. But from his side of the stage, Rowan's eyes didn't leave her even for once. As his fingers strummed the guitar, as the music moved around him, his gaze rested on her, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.
Then it ended. Applause erupted, and they left the stage flushed with relief and joy.
While speeches were being delivered and final preparations were made for the winner announcement, the group settled toward the back of the hall. Rowan leaned casually near the wall, arms crossed, still relaxing in the afterglow of the performance.
Then he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.
He turned, and there she was again, grinning.
Lynette silently held out a helmet to him.
He raised a brow. "You're serious?"
She tilted her head with that mischievous smile.
Rowan didn't say a word. He just smiled back and followed.
They zipped through the streets on the scooter, wind in their hair. As soon as Rowan stopped near the market, Lynette jumped off like she had done this a hundred times. She waved to vendors, called out to old uncles and aunties like they were family. Rowan watched her in stunned silence.
First, she stopped by the old grandma's stall from the other night, handing her a small container. "This is for you, Grandma," Lynette said sweetly. "Homemade rice porridge. My thanks to you for yesterday."
The grandma beamed, touched and surprised.
Then she skipped to the egg seller. "This is for your daughter," she said, handing him a candy bar. "And thank you again."
Rowan followed her, carrying the little bags she collected, watching her light up every stall she passed.
"You really came here just to thank everyone?" he finally asked.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Of course. It's the least I could do."
He didn't say anything. Just followed her, quietly impressed.
She bought some souvenirs for her family carefully.
Eventually, she stopped at a small bracelet stall. She turned and held up a black and white pearl bracelet. "Here," she said, her voice playful.
Rowan blinked. "For me? Why?"
"Because," she said, grabbing his wrist, "you've been a good boy lately."
He laughed awkwardly but didn't stop her as she slipped the bracelet on.
And suddenly, something tightened in his chest.
She was unpredictable. Warm. Surprising.
And utterly unforgettable.
On the way back, she tapped his shoulder to stop. She hopped off the scooter again and entered a little bakery. A few minutes later, she returned with two slices of strawberry cake. They sat on a bench outside, her feet brushing the dusty path.
"This is my favourite," she mumbled between bites. "I could die for this."
Rowan just stared at her, then looked down at the bracelet on his wrist.
What kind of girl was she? He wondered, looking at the new version of Lynette.
When they returned to the conference hall, the final speech was wrapping up. They quietly slipped through the crowd.
But of course, they weren't unnoticed.
Aron stood in front of them, arms crossed, a look of practiced disapproval on his face.
"And where exactly have you two been?" he asked.
Lynette grinned, stepping forward, holding up the small cake box like a peace offering. "We went to get this. For you!"
Aron looked at her. Then at Rowan. Then back to the cake.
With a sigh, he shook his head, taking the box. "You're lucky I like cake."
Before he could say more, Lynette grabbed Rowan's hand and slipped back to their group, smiling like nothing had happened.
And behind her, Rowan followed, with the bracelet still on his wrist, the taste of strawberry still on his tongue, and the image of her laughing in the sun attached deep in his mind.
The atmosphere inside the hall grew tense as the final moments of the conference arrived. Excitement buzzed in the air, with everyone murmuring predictions, exchanging guesses, and nervously tapping their feet.
Then, finally, the host stepped up to the mic.
"Now… the moment you've all been waiting for. The winner of this year's Youth Worship Conference, who will represent all of us in handing over the support funds to the elders of Khare Village…"
A drumroll started, improvised by everyone slapping their laps in rhythm.
The host grinned and said, "From Denver Church… Aron and his group!"
The hall erupted in cheers.
Aron's team screamed in disbelief, hugging each other, half-laughing, half-tearing up. Aron grabbed Lynette by the arm and lifted it like she had just won a boxing match. Cressa squealed while jumping up and down, and even Rowan, quiet as ever, let out a wide smile that reached his eyes.
They were called up on stage as a group, still stunned, still glowing.
When Aron stepped forward to accept the symbolic prize envelope, representing the collected donation for Khare Village, he bowed deeply and spoke into the mic.
"Thank you… not just for this honour, but for believing in worship, in community, and in kindness. I hope this gift brings smiles to the elders of this village. They deserve so much more."
A loud cheer followed his words.
The group took photos with the other churches, the village elders, and the organizing committee. Arms around shoulders, faces sweaty and smiling, they stood in front of the stage backdrop with the golden banner: "Faith in Action: Serving with Joy."
Flash after flash captured the moment forever.
Then came the packing, the goodbyes, and the long walk back to the bus.
As the retreat center faded in the background, replaced by the trees and hills of Khare, the mood in the bus mellowed. The seats were filled with slumped heads and sleepy conversations.
Lynette sat by the window, her cheek pressed against the glass, eyes half-closed, her mind still floating in the sunlight of the market and the applause on the stage.
Behind her, Cressa was already asleep, head resting against the windows.
Rowan sat quietly across the aisle, earphones in, his eyes occasionally drifting toward Lynette.
She must've felt it, because she opened one eye and caught him looking.
He looked away, flustered.
She smiled to herself, then closed her eyes again.
And just like that, the bus rolled on through winding roads, carrying them all back home, with hearts full, spirits lifted, and the echo of worship and laughter still lingering like a summer breeze.