That's when Harry turns around, looking up from his phone. His eyes widen slightly, a silent question hanging in the air.
"Yes?" he asks, his tone neutral.
Julian hesitates for just a moment before asking, "Well… do you know why Grace Silver is absent today?"
At the mention of Grace's name, Harry's expression shifts, a knowing look crossing his face.
"Oh, right. Grace. Sorry, Prof. I meant to tell you, but I totally forgot," Harry says, offering an apologetic shrug. "She's sick, so she couldn't make it to class."
The word 'sick' lands heavily in Julian's chest, a sudden, subtle drop in his mood. He feels his heart sink just a little, like something important has shifted.
"All right, I see," Julian replies, his voice steady, but his thoughts are elsewhere.
Okay, so I was right…
The feeling of confirmation leaves him with a strange, unsatisfied sense.
It's not a relief.
It's something… else.
Harry continues, oblivious to the slight shift in Julian's mood. "Yeah, I was just sending her the class notes now. I totally forgot to mention it to you. Thanks for asking, Prof."
He adds a smile, but it's the kind of smile that feels more out of politeness than any real emotion.
With a quick nod, Harry turns and heads toward the door, his footsteps soft on the floor.
Left alone in the empty lecture hall, Julian pauses, his gaze unintentionally drawn to the back seat—her seat. The one Grace had occupied the past two classes. He stands there for a moment, staring at the vacant spot, lost in thought.
"Okay," Julian mutters under his breath, forcing himself to brush off the disappointment that lingers.
I guess she's sick. That's about it.
But despite his attempt to convince himself, his heart feels heavier than before as he gathers his things, each movement slower than usual.
In her room, Grace coughs relentlessly, her chest heavy with each fit. Despite the discomfort, she continues to type away on her laptop, pushing through the words of the novel she's been working on. The detailed notes she'd made from her dreams lie open beside her, guiding her through the novel. Her determination keeps her focused, even as her body protests with every cough.
Just as she thinks she can't continue, her phone rings. She glances at the screen and sees the name
So the class must be over, she thinks, glancing at the time.
It's already 9:40 AM.
"Hey, Grace. Do you feel any better?" Harry's voice comes through, a note of concern in it.
Grace takes a breath, trying to steady herself, but the cough breaks through before she can answer.
"Yeah, I'm…"
Another cough interrupts her words.
"Wow, I'm seriously getting worried now," Harry says, his tone shifting to one of genuine concern. "Well, I just sent you the class notes right now."
"Thanks, Harry," Grace responds, trying to steady her breath and keep the coughing at bay.
"Do you want me to bring you some soup or something? I can drop it off at your place," Harry offers, his voice soft, almost hesitant.
"No, no, no need," Grace replies quickly, feeling uncomfortable at the thought. "I have enough soup at home."
She doesn't want Harry coming all the way to her apartment, and she certainly doesn't want to trouble him. The idea of having friends over, even well-meaning ones, makes her uneasy.
"Okay," Harry says, his voice shifting slightly as he accepts her answer. "Oh, and I also told Professor Julian that you're sick, so no worries about that."
"Oh... okay. Thank you," Grace says, feeling a small sense of relief, though it's tinged with something else—something she can't quite identify. "Did he say anything else?"
"Nope, just said okay."
Grace's heart gives a small, unexpected jolt.
Okay… That's all he said?
She can't help but feel a hint of disappointment, though she's not sure why.
"Okay… I see," she responds, her voice quieter now, her thoughts trailing off.
Harry continues to talk about the class materials and the syllabus, his words drifting in and out as Grace's mind lingers on what Julian said. Soon, the call ends, and she puts the phone back down on her desk.
She spins her chair around, looking out the wide opened window. The summer breeze flows in, carrying with it the warmth of the sun. The light outside feels distant, like a world she can't quite reach. She lets herself fall into the quiet of the moment, her thoughts swirling.
So he just said okay... Grace thinks, sighing lightly.
She feels a strange weight settle in her chest, a disappointment she can't quite place.
What else would he say, anyway? she chides herself, feeling foolish for thinking it would be anything more.
Thursday evening, Julian sits surrounded by nineteen of his students at a bustling barbecue restaurant. The air is warm with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversations.
"So, Professor, tell us more about your legendary development of the fashion brand. You're a genius!" one student exclaims, his voice full of admiration.
"Yeah, I'm still kind of in shock that we have you as our professor," another adds, their tone playful but sincere.
Laughter fills the space, and the students—girls and guys alike—joke and chatter with one another. They all seem at ease, enjoying Julian's company. He returns their words with a soft smile, his presence calm, a picture of the gentle but charismatic professor they all look up to.
But beneath the surface of the lively conversation, something feels off to Julian. The hours stretch on, the laughter echoing around him, yet a quiet sadness stirs deep within his chest.
Grace is not here, he thinks, his thoughts drifting to her absence. She's still sick. Couldn't come to class this morning either.
Harry's words from earlier that day echo in his mind.
"She's sick, so she couldn't make it to class."
As the night continues, the noise and laughter blur together, but Julian finds himself detached from the buzz. His mind keeps wandering back to Grace, to the empty seat she always occupies. He's trying to stay engaged, answering questions and offering soft smiles, but it's hard to ignore the weight in his chest.
Eventually, as the group's questions wind down and the conversation shifts to more casual chatter, Julian feels the need for a break. He stands up slowly, the movement quiet against the laughter and clatter of the diner.
"Just a quick restroom," he murmurs, slipping away from the group. His steps carry him through the crowd of students, but his mind is elsewhere, his heart still lingering on Grace and the hollow feeling of her absence.
Wanting to get some fresh air, Julian steps out of the diner and into the cool, summer night. The air feels different outside, quieter, as if it holds answers he's not quite ready to find.
Are you really okay, Grace Silver?
He hears the voice before he sees him. Turning his gaze, Julian spots Harry standing in the corner of the block, his attention absorbed in a phone call. Julian's steps falter for a brief moment as he instinctively listens in. He catches the name 'Grace.'
"Okay. Since you say so... But if you really don't feel that good, you can always tell me. Alright, take care, Grace."
The call ends, and Harry hangs up, his gaze still focused on his phone.
Julian quickly shifts his attention forward, pretending he hasn't heard anything, though his thoughts swirl with questions.
"Oh, Professor. You're out here too," Harry calls out, his voice light as he walks toward Julian. "Just getting some fresh air?"
Julian offers a nonchalant nod and a small smile, trying to mask the tension building within him. He wants to ask—wants to know how Grace is really doing, how sick she is—but something stops him. He doesn't want to come across as too concerned, too intrusive.
Harry stands beside him for a moment, the air between them comfortable but still thick with unspoken words. Julian finally breaks the silence, his voice casual. "I see you're a good friend?"
Harry gives him a small, amused smile, clearly not expecting the question. "Yes?"
"Sending class notes for your classmate," Julian adds, his tone light, though his mind lingers on the unspoken connection.
"Oh, to Grace. Yeah," Harry responds with a soft chuckle. "I mean, it's the least I could do for her."
Julian doesn't have anything more to say, but his mind is still whirring with unasked questions. He wants to know how she's really doing, wants to understand if she's alright. But Harry, oblivious to the weight in Julian's eyes, turns to head back into the diner.
"I'll get going in first, Prof!" he says, his voice upbeat.
Without waiting for a response, Harry dashes back inside, leaving Julian standing alone in the quiet night. The breeze feels cooler now, and Julian stands there for a moment longer than he intends, his thoughts tangled with Grace and the uncertainty that comes with it.