The morning of the pitch day arrived faster than any of them had anticipated.
Velaris Tech Valley sky was unusually gray, heavy with low-hanging clouds that mirrored the tension building inside Aruna's chest.
Inside the small event hall, startup teams bustled around, checking their equipment, rehearsing last-minute lines, adjusting suits and ties. Some looked painfully professional; others, like Aruna's team, wore their nervousness like an obvious badge.
"Okay, okay," Naya muttered under her breath, flipping through the printed slides again. "We got this. We prepared. We sacrificed sleep. We have coffee in our veins."
Aruna, clutching her lucky pen tightly, looked at her and grimaced. "And if we don't got this?"
Reza straightened his simple blazer and forced a smile. "Then we cry, eat fried chicken afterward, and figure out Plan B."
Naya and Aruna laughed a little, and for a second, the tension eased.
They were the third team scheduled to present.
Standing backstage, Aruna tried to steady his breathing. He could hear the applause for the team before them. Soon, it would be their turn.
He turned to Naya and Reza. "No matter what happens out there, thank you. For believing in this stupid dream with me."
Reza punched his arm lightly. "Shut up, you sap. Save the drama for after we win."
Naya gave a small nod. "Let's just tell our story."
Their team name flashed across the projector screen.
Their turn.
They walked onto the stage, the spotlight blinding for a moment. The judges — five of them, stone-faced and professional — stared back, unreadable.
Aruna's mouth felt dry as he stepped to the microphone.
"Good morning. We are the founders of Veloria, a platform built by small business survivors, for small business survivors."
At first, everything went according to plan.
The story, the emotional hook, the carefully crafted narrative. The judges seemed attentive. Some even leaned forward, interested.
But halfway through, disaster struck.
Naya's laptop — the one synced to the projector — suddenly froze.
Dead screen.
The pitch slides vanished.
For a few horrifying seconds, the entire room was silent.
Aruna's heart stopped. Naya's fingers flew over the keyboard in panic. Reza froze, eyes wide.
The judges exchanged glances.
Aruna took a deep breath.
And then — he stepped forward.
"Technology sometimes fails," he said, voice louder, steadying. "But dreams don't."
Some people in the audience chuckled.
He launched into the rest of the pitch without slides, speaking from memory, telling the story from the heart — about struggling businesses, about late nights and broken dreams, about the desperate need for a second chance that Veloria was trying to offer.
Naya and Reza quickly picked up the energy. Naya delivered the numbers confidently. Aruna described the product's unique selling points passionately.
By the end of their five-minute window, there was a spark in the room.
Not perfect.
Not clean.
But real.
As they exited the stage, none of them dared to speak. Their hearts hammered wildly, unsure whether they had just bombed everything or somehow pulled off a miracle.
When the winners were announced, Veloria wasn't first place.
They weren't even second.
They received a Special Mention — "Most Promising Early-Stage Startup."
No cash prize.
No investor deal.
But they did win free mentorship sessions with a prominent accelerator in Velaris Tech Valley.
When their name was called, the three of them sat frozen for a moment.
Then Reza screamed.
Naya hugged Aruna so hard he almost fell backward.
It wasn't the victory they had imagined.
But it was a start.
And sometimes, a small victory was all you needed to keep going.