He tells himself she'll probably greet him. He imagines the scene.
A casual nod from her, a warm, disinterested hello from him. Polite. Detached.
Harry's eyes meet his first.
Harry nods, friendly.
Julian returns the gesture, but his smile is tight—measured.
And Grace?
She doesn't look at him.
She doesn't even glance in his direction.
Eyes straight ahead, posture relaxed but focused, she walks past him as though he's invisible. As if yesterday didn't exist. As if the uncanny resemblance that had rocked his entire world was nothing more than a shadow he dreamt up.
They pass. No greeting. No hesitation.
Julian turns his head slowly, watching their backs fade into the bright green of the campus path. The trees ripple in the sunlight, painting the ground with flickering patches of shade.
At the entrance to the Faculty Building, he stands still, hair tousled lightly by the breeze, lips parted in a breath he doesn't release.
He doesn't understand it. He doesn't know why watching her walk away stings like this. Why her silence feels louder than words. Why her retreating figure—slender, confident, familiar—makes his chest ache in a place he hasn't felt for a very long time.
He can't take his eyes off her.
And that's when he hears it.
"Julian!"
A bright, cheerful voice pulls him from the moment. He turns.
It's Professor Lena, walking toward him with her usual spark.
"Good morning," Julian says, trying to summon warmth back into his voice.
Lena follows his gaze for a moment, but Grace and Harry are already far down the path now—too distant to make out clearly. Just two silhouettes in the blur of summer green.
"What were you looking at so deeply?" Lena asks with a light chuckle, her voice teasing.
She twists her body slightly as she speaks—a familiar, playful motion she often makes, halfway between affection and flirtation.
Julian doesn't flinch.
"Nothing," he replies calmly, his expression unreadable. "Shall we go in?"
"Sure," Lena says, flashing a bright smile.
The two walk side by side through the doors of the Faculty Building, the cool air inside meeting their sun-warmed skin as the echo of summer fades behind them.
Sunlight streams in through the wide second-floor window, casting a warm glow across Grace's desk. She sits near the edge, fingers tapping rhythmically on her laptop keyboard, eyes laser-focused on the lecture. Next to her, Harry scribbles notes with the same quiet intensity.
It's been three days since they met—just three—but they've fallen into a kind of academic rhythm. Same classes, same seats, side by side like they've always known each other.
Grace glances at Harry out of the corner of her eye.
He's funny. Easygoing. But when it comes to class, he's all in—attentive and meticulous. It's comforting, in a way, to have someone like him around, especially after being away for a year. I guess, taking almost every class together with him makes the days easier to navigate. Right?
Professor Candice's voice breaks her thoughts. "Let's take a quick ten-minute break."
Harry stretches and stands, brushing his hands on his jeans.
"I'm gonna go grab some coffee. You coming?"
Grace shakes her head lightly.
"No, I'm good."
He laughs, already stepping toward the door.
"Yeah, I forgot—you don't drink coffee. Be right back."
Grace shifts in her seat, tilting her head toward the window. Below, the campus glows in full summer bloom. Green lawns ripple under the breeze, and students wander in little clusters, their laughter echoing faintly upward.
And that's when her eyes land on him.
Julian. Professor Julian Lenter.
Grace watches Julian from the second-floor window, her eyes tracing his every move as he walks across the lawn.
His casual yet sharp outfit catches the sunlight, making him look almost unreal in the perfect summer day. The white shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the collar, adds a touch of careless ease, while the denim jeans, perfectly fitted, are the kind that make any man look effortlessly put-together.
Grace can't help but feel a strange flutter in her chest as she observes him. It's as if he exists in his own quiet world, where nothing seems out of place, where everything fits perfectly—his demeanor, his clothes, the way he carries himself.
She watches him silently.
Then, a group of girls crosses his path. They smile, wave, call out to him—bright and cheerful.
Julian returns their greeting with that gentle smile, lifting a hand in response, kind and warm.
Grace blinks.
The contrast hits her like a flicker in the light.
Because the man she sees now—gracious, approachable, effortlessly kind—is so different from the version of him still etched in her mind. That cold, unreadable face he wore the first time they met. The distant eyes. The heavy silence.
Was it just me? Was he always this gentle with others, but somehow… guarded with me?
She leans back in her chair, eyes drifting away from the window, a quiet breath leaving her lips.
Did I come off as too much? she wonders. Was it too forward—following him down that street in Mellany, asking for help like that? Did I cross a line?
But then, she shakes her head, correcting herself.
No—he was kind. His expression may have been cold, even a little harsh, but his actions spoke differently. He helped me. Protected me, really. That can't be ignored.
She doesn't understand it. Him.
And before she can think more, Harry slips back into the seat beside her, grinning, iced coffee in hand.
"Back just in time," he says.
The class resumes.
But this time, Grace can't focus.
Not fully.
Because in the quiet corners of her mind, Julian's face lingers—not the cold version, not the smiling one either, but something in between. Something unresolved.
Something that won't let go.
Do I have to go see him after class?
Grace stares blankly at the corner of her screen as the lecture drones on in the background, her notes paused mid-sentence.
I mean… I didn't expect to see him again after Mellany. That felt like a one-time, strange, surreal kind of thing. But now that we're both back here, in this reality—this campus—I guess I do owe him something. At the very least… a thank you. And of course, I need to return the card.
She bites her lower lip, uneasy.
There's something about the idea of going to his office—of standing in front of that door and knocking—that makes her pulse skip in a way she doesn't like.
She's not usually like this. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to approaching people. She's confident, naturally warm. Professors included.
But this feels different.
Something about him makes her pause. Like crossing an invisible line she can't quite name.
Still… I should go.
She glances down at her note on the laptop screen, the pages full of tidy notes from today's class.
I didn't even say hello to him the other day. That probably came off as rude. What if he thinks I'm ungrateful? Or worse—like I don't care at all?
Her stomach twists a little.
Grace flashes back to that moment in class. The way Julian's eyes skimmed past her like she wasn't there. The way he smiled—just slightly—for the girls in the front row, eager to ask him questions. He'd looked so effortlessly composed. So unaffected.
So far away.
Still, she thinks, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, I should say something. Even just a polite hello. At least to clear the air. And I also need to return the card now that I know where he is.
And yet something lingers at the edge of her mind—a question she won't say aloud.
Why does it feel so hard just to say hello to him?
Class wraps up about an hour later, the murmur of students gathering their things rising like soft waves in the room. As soon as the professor dismisses them, Grace stands from her seat, a quiet energy in her movement.
Harry stands with her and slings his backpack over one shoulder.
"Hey, you wanna grab lunch together?"
Grace looks at him with an apologetic tilt of her head.
"Sorry… I gotta go somewhere."
"Where?"
She hesitates for a split second.
"Umm… the administration office."
Why didn't I just say I'm going to Professor Lenter's office? she thinks, a bit annoyed with herself.
Harry doesn't press. He just nods with an easy grin.
"Cool. Well, see you tomorrow then—for the History of Fashion class?"
"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great day," she says, giving him a small smile before turning on her heel.
Grace walks out of the room a little faster than she intends, practically skipping down the stairs of the faculty building and out into the summer air.
The shade beneath the tall palm trees is perfect—cool, breezy, and dappled with sunlight. But when she steps into the open, she has to squint. The sun is too bright, almost unreal in its clarity. Still, the warmth feels good on her skin.
And yet, her heart beats faster.
She crosses the campus, approaching the building where Professor Julian Lenter's office is. Her steps slow as she walks inside, taking the elevator up to the floor where his office is located. Her reflection stares back at her in the elevator doors—composed on the outside, fluttering on the inside.
The doors slide open. Grace steps out, her shoes echoing quietly in the hall as she walks toward the familiar door.
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