His heart had stung. It was as if the moment wrapped itself in thorns and sank deep into his chest. Relief battled with something far darker: jealousy, confusion, pain.
He remembers turning away without a word, only half-hearing his own voice leaving something behind for her. What had he said? Did it even matter?
Even when she spoke with the officer, even when he watched her from the shadows just to make sure she was all right, something twisted inside him. He couldn't stand to linger there. So he left—back to his car, to the long drive to school, lips pressed in a hard line, biting back the tangle of feelings he couldn't name.
But he knows what it was.
He felt she had something to say to him. Something important. But maybe he turned too soon. Maybe he missed it.
And yet—she texted. She wants to talk. That thought alone makes the corners of his mouth lift again, involuntarily.
He considers texting her back right away, telling her he's free now, that she doesn't have to wait. But no. He stops himself. He needs the time—to breathe, to prepare himself, to let whatever's coming arrive without rushing it.
And now, all he can do is wait.
Wait for her call.
Wait for the words that have been buried too long.
Somewhere deep down, he feels like he already knows what she's going to say. Even with so many things unspoken, it's like the truth has always been quietly echoing between them.
His eyes flutter shut again.
And he prays.
He doesn't even try to find the right words—just an honest plea in the quiet of his heart.
God… guide me in this. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what this is supposed to be. But please—help me to do what's good in your eyes.
A wave of guilt washes over him again at the thought of Hannah.
The ache of memory tightens in his chest. He feels like he's betraying something sacred. Hannah, the love he lost. Grace, the woman who looks so much like her… and yet is entirely her own person. He knows Grace isn't a replacement. And Hannah… Hannah can never be replaced.
But still, he can't help how he feels.
He just can't.
He opens his eyes again, slowly rising from the sofa. Crossing the room, he sits at his desk, pulling a stack of papers toward him. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting.
"I should just focus on work," he mutters under his breath.
When Grace opens her eyes, the soft glow of her phone is the first thing she sees. 6:28 p.m.
The numbers stare back at her like a quiet reminder.
Right. Julian.
It's time.
A flicker of nerves runs through her stomach. Not fear — something else. The weight of unspoken things. Words she's carried too long, ones that feel too fragile for the air but too heavy to keep inside.
Before dialing, she draws in a breath and folds her hands in her lap, whispering a quiet prayer. Sincere. Desperate.
Lord… please give me wisdom. I don't trust my own right now. If I follow my heart, I'll mess this up. Help me say what's right.
When she opens her eyes again, nothing has changed — except maybe her courage.
She taps into her recent calls and presses his name.
One ring.
Two.
The seconds feel like they stretch thin, trembling with possibility, and then—
"Hello," Julian says, his voice soft, low, like the beginning of a secret.
Her heart gives one strong, steady beat. Not frantic, not panicked — but full. Like something inside her has been waiting for this exact moment.
"Hi," she breathes. "It's me. Grace."
There's a pause, then a soft chuckle, warm and familiar.
"Yes. I know it's you."
The sound of his voice alone makes her chest tighten in that strange, wonderful way — like being terrified and delighted all at once. Like falling and floating at the same time.
She takes a breath, steadying her hands, feeling the slight tremor in her fingers.
"There's something I want to say," she says, finally.
Silence.
Is he holding his breath? Or bracing for something?
"Hello?" she asks gently, almost afraid the connection has broken.
"I'm here," he replies, voice slightly tense now. "Well… what is it?"
That tension — she feels it too. Not the bad kind. The kind when two people both know, both suspect, both stand at the edge of something unspoken.
It's mutual. Like they're both waiting for the same confession.
"I've realized this," she begins, words feeling heavier now that they're real, living things. "And I really didn't plan on saying this to you, but I think I…"
Her throat tightens.
What if I ruin everything right here on the phone?
She pulls the words back, heart racing.
"Never mind. Can I see you? Like… right now?"
More silence. The kind that feels loaded with all the things neither of them has said yet.
I need to say this in person, she thinks. It's too much for a phone call. I need to see his eyes when I say it.
Finally, his voice returns, quieter now. "Well… okay. Where do you want to meet? Do you want me to come near your home?"
"No," she says, almost too quickly. "I'll come to the school."
There's hesitation on his end. Protective. Gentle.
"No, no, you shouldn't be out alone. I'll just—"
She cuts in, sharper than she means to. "I'll drive there. Just… wait."
Before he can argue again, she ends the call.
For a moment, she just sits there, staring at the darkened screen, her pulse loud in her ears.
Was that too abrupt? Did I just hang up on him?
But she doesn't let herself spiral. Not tonight.
With one swift motion, she grabs her keys from the kitchen table, flings a red flannel over her shoulders, and heads for the door. The fabric is warm, soft — like armor for what's coming next.
Outside, the evening air greets her cool against her skin, the sky streaked with that deep blue just before full night.
She's not sure exactly what she's going to say when she sees him.
All she knows is this: she has to say it face to face.
No more hiding behind a screen. No more unfinished sentences.
Julian stares at his phone, slightly flustered by how abruptly Grace ended the call. His thumb hovers over the screen, tempted to call her back. But after a second, he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if amused by her suddenness.
She's coming anyway, he thinks, setting the phone down on the desk with a soft click.
And that thought alone is enough to set his heart racing.
The anticipation of seeing her again — the thought of what she's about to say — makes his pulse thrum in his chest like the low beat of a distant drum. He doesn't even know what exactly she's going to tell him, but something deep inside already knows it's going to matter.
Standing from his chair, Julian walks over to the window, pressing his hand lightly against the cool frame. The view outside is peaceful — the familiar campus grounds bathed in the soft gold of an autumn afternoon. Leaves scatter with the breeze, dancing lazily across the empty paths. The air is crisp, carrying that quiet expectancy that always seems to come before change.
Winter's not far now, though technically there are two months left. Still, it feels closer than that — like one good gust of wind might blow the season in early. Change is always like that, arriving before you're quite ready for it.
Then his phone rings again, sharp and sudden, making his heart leap.
Grace?
But when he glances at the screen, it's not her name — it's Eugene.
Julian lets out a slow breath, steadying himself, and answers the call. He taps the speaker button and leans against the edge of his desk, alone in the office.
"Eugene," he says with a soft smile.
"June! What's up? Are you at school?" Eugene's voice bursts from the speaker with that unmistakable energy, bright and contagious.
"Yeah, I'm in the office. You sound hyped."
A cheerful chuckle comes through the speaker — the kind of laugh that pulls a smile from you whether you want it or not.
"Well, I just wanted to say — I'm on my way to the proposal right now," Eugene says, his excitement barely contained. It's written in every syllable.
Julian's grin is genuine.
"Wow. That's huge. I can't wait to hear how it goes."
"Bro, thanks to you — seriously — for helping me prep everything. I feel pretty confident. I think she's going to love that space you helped me decorate."
Julian laughs softly, shaking his head.
"Come on. It's all God, you know that."
"Right, right, I know — you're right. Praise God," Eugene replies quickly, but the excitement bubbles right back. "Anyway, how about you? How's your situation going? Grace…? Huh?"
Julian lets out a quiet breath, the smile still lingering at the edge of his mouth.
How much do I even tell him? He isn't sure himself.
"I hope that mess online didn't make things weird between you two," Eugene adds, suddenly more serious.
Julian sighs, but it's paired with a grin. "It almost did… but I guess not."
Eugene's tone sharpens with interest. "What? Why? What's going on?" His voice is bubbling again, genuinely excited — excited for him.
That's just how Eugene is. He doesn't ask for gossip; he's just happy for Julian.
Julian runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath.
"It's not that there's anything official going on. But…" He pauses, a smile curling at the corners of his lips — the kind of smile that lingers when you've just heard something that stirs both warmth and nervous excitement.
And that's when Grace arrives.