Strategic Management class felt more tense than usual that day. Professor Wirawan asked each group to present the early progress of their case study project, and Isabella's group was up first.
Isabella was usually never nervous in front of the class, but this time she felt a little uneasy. It wasn't because she hadn't prepared the material—she had organized the slides as neatly as always—but because she knew Professor Wirawan was notoriously sharp and never hesitated to embarrass students in front of the class if he found any part of their work weak.
The presentation went smoothly at first. Reno explained the background of the problem, Dita presented their research method, and Fikri showed the initial data they had collected from Bu Marni's shop. Then it was Isabella's turn to explain the analysis, and that's where everything began to fall apart.
"This sales data you're showing," Professor Wirawan interrupted in the middle of the presentation, pointing to one of the graphs on the slide. "Where did it come from? I don't see a clear data-collection methodology here."
Isabella fell silent for a moment. The graph had indeed been created using data Christian had collected through a direct interview with Bu Marni, but because of time constraints, they hadn't had a chance to formally lay out the methodology on the slide.
"We collected this data through a direct interview with the business owner, Professor," Isabella answered, trying to stay calm.
"A direct interview without a clear, structured set of questions is not a valid methodology for academic analysis," Professor Wirawan said, his tone growing sharper. "This is a major weakness. As the group leader, you should have made sure the methodological foundation was solid before moving on to the analysis."
The classroom fell silent. Isabella felt her face grow hot, not only because of the criticism, but because it had been directed at her personally as the group leader, as if the mistake were entirely her responsibility.
"I'll fix the methodology, Professor," she said, trying to keep her voice steady even though her heart was pounding.
"It should have been fixed before the presentation, not after you were criticized," Professor Wirawan shot back. "This shows a lack of preparation from the group, especially its leader."
Before Isabella could answer again, another voice came from the side of the room.
"Sorry, Professor, but I don't think that's fair," Christian said, rising from his seat.
The entire class turned toward him, including Professor Wirawan, who raised an eyebrow, seeming unaccustomed to being challenged by a student in the middle of his criticism.
"We haven't formally written the interview questions on the slide yet, but that doesn't mean they don't exist," Christian continued, his voice calm but firm. "I handled the field data collection, and I put together the list of questions. If there's something missing here, that's my responsibility, not Isabella's."
"Christian," Professor Wirawan said, "as co-leaders, the responsibility is still shared."
"That's true, Professor, and I don't mind being criticized," Christian replied, "but the criticism should be directed at the group, not just one person as if she were the one most at fault. Isabella worked incredibly hard putting together the analysis from the data we collected together."
Professor Wirawan was silent for a moment, staring at Christian before finally nodding slowly, his expression softening slightly. "All right. Fix the methodology before the final presentation. That's a note for the group, not an individual."
Christian sat back down, and Isabella continued the rest of the presentation with a slightly steadier voice, even though her heart was still pounding—this time not from nerves, but because of what Christian had just done for her in front of the entire class.
After class ended, Isabella hurried to catch up with Christian, who was walking toward the exit with the rest of their friends.
"You didn't have to defend me back there," she said once she managed to fall into step beside him, though her voice came out gentler than she'd intended.
"I defended you because it wasn't fair," Christian answered simply. "Professor Wirawan blamed you as if you'd been working alone. That wasn't true."
"But you could get in trouble too for arguing with a professor in front of the class."
Christian shrugged, looking unconcerned. "I couldn't stand watching you get singled out for something that wasn't only your fault."
Isabella fell silent, absorbing his words. She had always been used to facing pressure alone, used to defending herself without expecting anyone else to step in. But today, for the first time, someone had stood up, at his own risk, simply to make sure she didn't have to carry something alone.
"Thank you," she said at last, her voice quieter than usual.
"You're welcome." Christian smiled, and this time his smile looked sincere, without the teasing edge he usually carried. "Besides, if you got in trouble over the methodology, our group's grade could drop. I'm just protecting our shared interests."
Isabella let out a small laugh, realizing Christian was deliberately lightening a mood that had begun to feel too serious. "Oh, so this is just about our grade?"
"Partly," Christian replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. "The rest... well, I'll tell you later."
Before Isabella could ask anything else, Christian had already quickened his pace to catch up with his friends, leaving Isabella standing in the school hallway with her curiosity growing stronger and something warm spreading through her chest—something that was becoming harder to deny as mere gratitude.
That afternoon, on her way home, Isabella realized something that made her stop in the middle of the sidewalk. For eight semesters, she had always stood on her own, facing every criticism, every pressure, every minor failure that came her way. She was used to being the strong one, the person who didn't need anyone to defend her.
But today, someone had done it without being asked, without thinking twice, as if defending her were simply the natural thing for him to do.
And for the first time, Isabella didn't see it as a sign of weakness. She saw it as something that, for some reason, made her chest feel full in a way she had never experienced before.
That night, before going to bed, she opened her blue planner again and reread the brief note she'd written about Christian a few days earlier. She added a new line beneath it, her handwriting a little neater than usual, as if she wanted to make sure the sentence was recorded properly.
Today Christian defended me in front of the class. No one has ever done that for me before.
She stared at the sentence for a long time, thinking about how one simple act could change the way she saw someone she had considered a threat to her position only a few weeks ago. Now, without Isabella fully realizing when it had happened, Christian was no longer just a name on the announcement board disturbing her peace. He was becoming someone who had quietly taken up far more space in her heart than she had ever imagined possible.