An awkward, heavy ten minutes pass like that—Julian flipping aimlessly through slides, Grace hammering out her invisible defenses on the keyboard—until the door swings open once more with a burst of energy.
A group of girls rush into the hall, their chatter and laughter breaking the tense stillness like sunlight cracking through heavy clouds.
"Good morning, Prof!"
"Good morning, Professor Julian!"
Their voices are bright, cheerful, and a little too loud for the previously silent room.
Julian lifts his head from the laptop, blinking once to reset himself, then offers them a soft, welcoming smile—the kind that effortlessly fits his usual composed demeanor.
"Good morning," he replies, his voice low, smooth, and kind, the gentle tone he naturally slips into whenever he addresses his students.
Grace, behind her laptop, peeks up just slightly, watching how easily he shifts back into the role of Professor Julian—poised, calm, and perfectly at ease with the crowd.
So different from the weird awkwardness between just the two of us, she thinks, a strange flutter crossing her chest.
The corner of her own lips lifts instinctively, but she quickly ducks her head back down, pretending to be engrossed in her journal.
And, for a few moments, she really is focused. Her fingers move swiftly, pouring her stray thoughts and observations into the open document, cocooning herself once again in her private little world.
Her concentration, however, shatters in an instant when she hears one of the girls call out brightly, "So, Professor Lenter, we are trying to hold a dinner to celebrate the start of this course. Will you come?"
The girl's voice is sweet—bordering on pleading—and it rings clear across the lecture hall.
Grace keeps her eyes pinned to her laptop, but her ears are fully alert now, quietly tuning into the conversation happening up front.
At the podium, Julian blinks, caught completely off guard.
He sneaks a quick glance toward the back—toward Grace—as if checking to see whether she's paying attention.
"Wow, I never knew that classes have opening celebration dinners…" he says, genuine surprise in his voice.
He shifts awkwardly, his hand brushing the edge of the podium, clearly unprepared for this kind of invitation.
In front of him, the group of girls look up with shining, eager eyes, all smiles and hopeful anticipation.
"We already voted on a time, and it's next Tuesday for dinner!" another girl chimes in brightly. "What do you think, Professor?"
Julian hesitates, the weight of the decision hanging strangely heavy.
Almost involuntarily, his eyes dart back toward the back of the room—toward Grace.
But she appears utterly absorbed in her laptop, eyes glued to the screen, fingers tapping steadily.
Not a single reaction. No flicker of acknowledgment. Nothing.
Did she vote too? Julian wonders, a strange, unreasonable curiosity sparking inside him.
Julian thinks for a brief second, wondering if Grace had also voted for this dinner.
By the way she looks now—calm, detached, her attention seemingly locked onto her laptop—she couldn't appear more disinterested.
"Well, I guess that time will work," Julian finally replies, turning his gaze back toward the group of eager students.
"Great!"
"Awesome!!!"
The girls light up with excitement, exchanging quick smiles among themselves.
More students begin trickling into the lecture hall, and soon the theater-like space starts to buzz with quiet chatter and the shuffling of bags and laptops.
By exactly 8:30 a.m., the room is full. All twenty students are seated, ready—or at least pretending to be.
Julian steps toward the podium and taps the touchscreen, preparing to bring up today's lecture notes on the big projector screen.
"Hey, so you're coming to the celebration dinner?" Harry asks in a low voice, glancing sideways at Grace.
Grace tilts her head thoughtfully, her hair brushing over one shoulder, and shrugs.
"I don't know. Probably not," she says lightly.
"Why? You got something else going on?" Harry asks, a little surprised.
Grace chuckles, a soft sound that floats up through the rows.
"Nah. I'm just feeling lazy, honestly. Hanging out with a bunch of classmates I don't even know yet... it's awkward."
Harry laughs, nudging her playfully with his elbow.
"But you have me—you know me! Come on, just come with me."
Grace offers a small, nonchalant smile.
"I'll think about it."
From the podium, Julian steals one last glance toward the back of the hall, his eyes catching the easy, casual exchange between Grace and Harry—the way their small smiles flicker, the comfortable way they talk.
A faint tightness presses at his chest, though he doesn't quite name it.
Without a word, Julian clicks the screen to life, flooding the front wall with the title of today's lecture.
His voice cuts across the lingering murmurs in a low, steady tone.
"Okay," he says, his deep voice echoing through the room, "let's briefly go over what we covered last class."
When the class ends, Harry and Grace spring to their feet, eager to escape the gathering crowd. As usual, a long line of students forms at the front of the lecture hall, eager to ask Professor Julian questions about the material.
Without a second thought, Grace and Harry slip out the side aisle and head for the exit.
Julian's eyes catch the faint glimpse of Grace's figure disappearing into the hallway, her long stride quick and determined. With a nonchalant, gentle smile, he turns back to the students in front of him, patiently answering their questions.
Outside, the campus air feels light but tinged with fatigue.
"Goodbye," Grace says as they reach the entrance of the campus, flashing Harry a tired, faint smile.
"Hope we can grab lunch together later," Harry says, his voice carrying a sheepish, hopeful note.
"Sure, sure," Grace answers vaguely, her energy waning, and she hops onto the bus waiting nearby.
She plops down in one of the front seats, tossing her small bag onto the space next to her.
Through the window, she spots Harry standing on the sidewalk, waving. She lifts her hand and waves back, watching him turn and head toward the parking lot on the other side.
I wish I could bring a car to school too... she thinks, sighing a little. But whatever. Parking fees are insane for students…
Her eyes follow Harry as he disappears between rows of parked cars.
Guess Harry's pretty well-off...
Grace leans back into the seat, the bus engine vibrating beneath her.
A dull tiredness settles in her chest, heavier than she expected. A nagging headache pulses at her temples, and an uneasy nausea rises deep inside her. Her eyes feel heavy, as if some unseen weight is pressing down on them, making everything feel more distant. It's as though her entire body has suddenly become unbearably heavy, each movement a struggle against an invisible force.
It's strange—she had felt a little excited for class this morning, a light flutter of anticipation she couldn't fully explain.
But after seeing Julian again, after hearing about the confirmation of the celebration dinner, after the awkwardness and the stolen glances... all of it, she just feels emotionally worn out.
Or maybe I am really physically sick…
She shuts her eyes for a moment, letting the soft rocking of the bus soothe her scattered mind.
Back in his professor's office, Julian clicks the button on the coffee machine. The steady drip of coffee fills the quiet room, the rich aroma rising as it fills his mug. He stares at the mug for a moment, the dark liquid swirling inside, and his thoughts wander back to that morning.
He remembers how Grace and he were alone in the empty classroom—how she sat at the back, busy with her laptop, avoiding eye contact. How, when the class ended, she had walked out quickly, the slight fatigue in her posture not going unnoticed.
She looked somewhat tired...
A small wave of concern stirs in him, but Julian quickly shakes his head, pushing the thought aside.
It's none of my business.
He grabs the mug of hot coffee, the warmth seeping into his hands, and walks back to his desk.
Settling into his chair, he opens his laptop, trying to dive back into the course materials. The soft click of his fingers against the keys echoes through the room as he refocuses on his work.
But in the back of his mind, the thought of Grace lingers. The image of her looking worn, even just for a brief moment, refuses to leave him.
"Is she sick…?"
He suddenly feels a pang of worry. Then he shakes his head slightly, scolding himself for being so foolish. Still, his thoughts drift back to her.
Maybe she really is sick…
Her somewhat tired face lingers in his mind, and a twinge of uneasiness settles in his chest.
Julian frowns, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. The thought lingers—uninvited, out of place. It feels unnecessary, even ridiculous, yet it gnaws at him, stubborn and quiet, refusing to be dismissed.
Before he can push it further, he clicks through his emails, but his mind keeps wandering back to Grace.
He finally stops typing, hands falling still. With a quiet sigh, he closes his eyes—unable to stop thinking about her.
It's strange, this pull. This subtle, yet undeniable connection between them.
As the day passes, as they both go about their routines, Grace and Julian are becoming etched into each other's thoughts—drifting into each other's minds even when they're not together.