That night, after hours of casual chit-chat and laughter with his students at the barbecue, Julian heads home. He changes into his running shorts, windbreaker, and a short-sleeved t-shirt, pulling on his running shoes with a practiced ease.
Under the soft glow of the moon, which reflects off the surface of the lake, Julian sets off on his run. The rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement is steady, his breath coming in heavy, measured gasps as he loses himself in the motion. Forty minutes pass in a blur, and Julian checks his Apple Watch, eyeing his heart rate.
"Okay. Since you say so... But if you really don't feel that good, you can always tell me. Alright, take care, Grace."
The words Harry had spoken on the phone earlier echo in his mind, the sound of Grace's name slipping into his thoughts uninvited.
Grace Silver...
Her name sticks in his head as he picks up his pace, his feet pounding harder against the ground. He runs faster and faster, pushing himself to forget, to focus solely on the rhythm of his body, to block out the thoughts of her. But no matter how hard he tries, her presence lingers in his chest, like a shadow that won't fade.
It's not like I can do anything for her, so stop thinking about her, Julian tells himself, his mind rebelling against the pull he feels towards her.
His body responds, pushing harder, but his pace falters. His breath grows more labored, and soon enough, he stops, his feet coming to a sudden halt. He bends forward slightly, his hands on his knees as he exhales deeply, trying to steady his breath.
He stands there for a moment, the night air cool on his skin, the moonlight casting long shadows across the path.
Julian can't deny it any longer. The worry that has been building within him all evening grows more pronounced. Grace has missed two classes in a row. That means she's been sick for nearly an entire week, and it unsettles him more than he's willing to admit.
Is she okay? he wonders, the question hanging in the air like the mist over the lake, unanswered and heavy.
Meanwhile, in the quiet of the living room, Grace sits curled up with a thick, puffy blanket wrapped tightly around her body. She leans against the sofa, her eyes half-closed from exhaustion. Her mom approaches, holding a glass of water and a pill.
"Thanks, Mom," Grace murmurs, taking the pill and swallowing it with a sip of water. She leans back into the couch, closing her eyes for a moment.
Her mom watches her, her face filled with concern as she crosses her arms and stretches a little beside the sofa.
"Do you think you'll be able to make it to that fashion party on Saturday? The one Harry invited you to?"
Grace hesitates, her thoughts momentarily distracted by the idea of the party.
"Well…" she starts, her voice raspy. "At first, when Harry brought up the idea of going together for the group project, I wasn't really feeling it. I felt too lazy to go. But now that I've been cooped up at home for almost a week, I kinda wanna go."
Her mom chuckles softly, nodding in understanding. "I get it. You've been stuck inside for so long. But you really should stop coughing before you think about going out."
Grace nods, a small smile playing on her lips as she feels a little better. She swallows, her throat less irritated for the moment.
"Yeah. Harry called earlier during the class dinner. He told me if I didn't feel well, I didn't have to come. But honestly, I just really want to go now. Hopefully, I'll feel better soon. The coughing's starting to get less and less, so if I rest up until tomorrow, Friday, I think I might be okay for the party on Saturday night."
Her mom smiles warmly at her, a glint of pride in her eyes.
"Harry seems like a really nice friend. But do you even have anything to wear?" her mom asks.
Grace chuckles, but it quickly dissolves into a fit of coughing. Her mom's smile fades into a look of concern as she watches her daughter.
Grace, still coughing, manages to speak between the fits. "Well, I have… a long black dress that has a somewhat 1920s vibe. I was thinking of wearing that." She pauses to catch her breath before continuing, "I looked it up on Google and even browsed through the class readings—it definitely looks like it fits that time period."
Her mom chuckles softly, shaking her head in amusement.
"Sure, as long as you feel good enough to wear it."
Late past midnight, Grace lies in her dark bedroom, listening to a podcast as the cool summer breeze drifts in through the window. She feels her phone vibrate on the bedside table. It's a text from Harry.
Grace reads the message in the dim light, and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, touched by how considerate Harry is.
She sends the text quickly and sets her phone back down, closing her eyes once more, allowing the quiet of the night to settle over her.
In his clean, ivory studio apartment, Julian lies in bed, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, his eyes closed in the quiet of the night. The warm, sweet summer breeze slips through the wide window, filling the room with its soft, cooling touch.
Hope she feels better... and is able to make it to class tomorrow, he thinks, his mind drifting.
Though there is no History of Fashion Design class on Friday, Julian still hopes to catch a glimpse of her somewhere on campus. He silently prays for her to recover soon, but at the same time, he tries not to overthink it—tries not to let his mind wander too far.
With that thought lingering, he closes his eyes, hoping for sleep to come.
Saturday morning, just as the first light of dawn begins to break, Julian runs along the lakeside. The sun rises slowly, casting a warm glow across the water. At six feet tall, with deep-set eyes and a well-defined jawline, Julian runs steadily, his breath heavy but controlled. He's been at this for over six months now, making running a part of his daily routine, and his body knows the rhythm well.
Though he'll be attending the fashion party hosted by Harrison Group later that evening, Julian pushes himself harder this morning, extending his run to maintain his usual pace.
Yesterday, on Friday, Julian had searched the campus for Grace, not desperately, but with a quiet sense of hope—his eyes constantly scanning the crowds for any sign of her. He hadn't seen so much as a shadow of her.
It wasn't a surprise. He hadn't really expected to find her, especially after overhearing Harry's call with Grace and guessing just how sick she must have been. Even so, a quiet sense of disappointment lingered in his chest, mixed with a trace of concern.
Focus.
He tells himself this as he runs, the summer air tousling his hair, his thoughts briefly flickering back to her before he refocuses on the rhythm of his steps.
Grace opens her eyes to the warm stream of sunlight filtering through the window. As she sits up in bed, she notices that her head feels much better—almost no ache at all. Her throat doesn't hurt nearly as much, and a smile spreads across her face.
"Yah!" she says quietly, a small cheer escaping her lips.
She gets out of bed and walks over to the window. As she looks out at the beautifully clear summer sky, she whispers, "Thank you, God."
Relief floods through her. She's finally feeling better, and she can go to the fashion party after all. The thought of it excites her. She's never attended an event like this before, and although she had felt uneasy about going when Harry first invited her, now, she's just eager to get out and do something.
She grabs her phone to check the time. It's 8 a.m.
Without hesitation, she quickly sends Harry a text.
A smile tugs at her lips as she tosses her phone onto the bed. But then, her gaze lingers on it for a moment.
Right... Professor Julian. I hope he's doing well.
Her mind drifts back to the moment she picked up his phone at the hotel, remembering how Julian had left it for her. An unexpected emotion sweeps over her—one she can't quite name.
Then, she recalls what Harry had told her about Julian's reaction when he heard that Grace was sick.
Just okay… okay, whatever.
A hint of disappointment crawls back in, but Grace brushes it off with a smile, grateful that her body feels so much better.
She takes a deep breath, focusing on good things. Her health is returning, and that's all that matters right now. No more lingering on things she can't control. The fashion party tonight is her priority, and she's ready for it.
I'll see him on Tuesday. No need to get too emotional about it.
With a shrug, she shakes off the feeling and walks out of her room.