Back in his office, Julian stands by the open window, gazing out at the summery campus. The greenery sways gently under the warm afternoon light, students pass by in slow, languid strides, and a light breeze filters in, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass and coffee from the courtyard café below.
His eyes wander across the peaceful view, scanning aimlessly—as if looking for someone.
What am I doing…
He lets out a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, the kind you give when catching yourself in a moment of foolishness. With a soft sigh, he walks back to his desk and settles into his chair. The screen before him glows gently as he reopens the list of enrolled students for his course.
Scrolling to the bottom of the roster, his gaze lands on the name that's been lingering in his thoughts since the class ended.
Grace Silver.
With a click, her student profile expands. A photo appears—Grace, seated in what looks like a cozy café, wearing a simple black short-sleeved shirt. Her hair falls naturally around her face, and her smile is soft, slightly sheepish, like she's caught mid-laugh or just after saying something shyly amusing.
Julian's gaze lingers.
There's something about that smile—something disarmingly real. For a fleeting second, he feels himself being pulled into the warmth of it.
Then the image of her—smiling and laughing beside that boy in the back row—flashes across his mind. The way they smiled at each other. The comfort between them.
Harry.
He remembers the name easily now. Saw it earlier on the random group pairing list—right next to Grace's.
With a small shake of the head, Julian leans back, his hand moving to close the page.
Stop thinking about her…
He stands, brushing the faint tension off his shoulders as he walks to the corner of his office, where a small espresso machine hums quietly. With a press of a button, the machine comes to life. The smell of brewing coffee begins to drift through the room.
He watches the slow drip of dark liquid into the cup, his mind trailing back—despite himself.
I thought she'd at least come say thank you. For what I left at the hotel in Mellany. Or just… say hello. Something. Anything.
The bitter thought leaves a sting.
Maybe she's not as polite as I thought.
The machine beeps softly. Julian takes the cup, the warmth grounding him for a moment. He exhales and turns toward the small sofa by the wall, settling into its cushions with his coffee in hand.
Still, the thought lingers.
Hannah would've come up right away. She'd flash that bright, pure smile of hers, like she always did…
His brow furrows. Wait… why am I even comparing Grace to Hannah?
He lets out another breath and shakes his head, as though trying to cast the thought away.
This is foolish. He is being foolish.
But still, the echo of Grace's voice, the glint of her eyes, the shape of her smile—all of it lingers like the scent of summer air drifting in through the window, subtle but impossible to ignore.
At the campus entrance café, the mellow buzz of students and the clatter of cups create a soft backdrop as the afternoon sun pours through the tall windows. Harry lifts his coffee to his lips, eyes fixed on Grace with an easy smile.
"Hope you're not late again tomorrow," he says, a teasing note in his voice.
Grace lets out a light chuckle, shaking her head. "Oh right, we're seeing each other again tomorrow."
"Yeah, turns out we're in both the major required courses and the same elective," Harry says, amused. "You'll be seeing a lot of me this semester."
"Haha," she laughs, a touch of awkwardness in her tone as she raises her cup and takes a slow sip of her sweet potato latte.
"You don't drink coffee?" he asks, eyeing her pastel drink curiously.
"Nope," she replies simply, lips quivering into a grin. "It's bitter. I can't stand the taste."
Harry leans back in his seat, grinning. "You might be the only person I know who says that out loud."
"Well," she shrugs playfully, "glad to be unique, I guess."
Harry chuckles, then shifts the conversation. "Hey, did you notice that one of our group projects is to come up with an early 1900s styling concept? It's due in about a month."
"Yeah, I remember reading that in the syllabus," Grace nods.
Harry beams. "Well, I actually have a ticket to an early 1900s-themed party happening next Saturday. Wanna come with me? I think it could be great for inspiration."
Grace blinks. "Wait—there's a party like that?"
"Yeah," he laughs. "It's kind of a niche event, but perfect timing, right? Come with me. We can check out the styles, take notes, maybe even try dressing up."
She hesitates, tapping her fingers gently against her warm cup. "Well… if the timing works out, sure. I guess it could be helpful."
Harry's smile brightens. "Awesome. It's a plan then."
Grace returns a faint smile, but her thoughts turn inward, a quiet unease flickering behind her eyes.
Is this just about the project? Or is he trying to get closer to me?
She steals a glance at Harry—his cheerful demeanor, the light in his eyes as he talks to her. Friendly, yes. But maybe too friendly?
We're just group partners… I could be overthinking it. Right?
Still, something in her chest feels cautious. She doesn't want to send the wrong signals—especially not to someone she's unsure about. But turning him down without reason feels just as complicated.
Grace stirs the foam of her latte absently, unsure of what to say next.
The clock strikes 6 p.m. as Julian flings a jacket over his shoulder. His mind, which has been focused all day on preparing for next week's course materials, is ready for a break. Just as he gathers his things, a soft knock on the door interrupts the quiet of his office.
"Professor Lenter?" A bright, high-pitched voice calls from outside.
Julian recognizes the voice instantly—it's Professor Lena, a newly invited professor for interior design in the same faculty from last term. She's around the same age as him, and they've grown fairly close over the past few months. Lena is warm and approachable, always friendly, and Julian has grown accustomed to her company.
He walks over to the door and opens it, offering her a polite smile. "Hello."
"Can I come in? Or were you about to head home?" Lena asks, already pushing the door open.
"Well, I was planning to leave, but it's okay. I can spare some time." Julian gestures toward the sofa.
Lena steps into the room, her energy as vibrant as ever. She flops down onto the sofa, flashing Julian a teasing smile. Julian, always calm and composed, sits in his office chair, his posture relaxed but measured.
Lena looks at him, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "I thought we were closer than this," she says, her tone playful, but with an edge of flirtation. "You're so far away, sitting there like I'm some stranger."
Julian chuckles softly, unsure how to respond. "It's just more comfortable here," he replies casually. "So… how's the start of the semester for you?"
He asks the question with genuine interest, as he always does when conversing with colleagues. Julian is skilled at making people feel welcome, despite his typically chic and reserved demeanor. He's learned the art of social interaction well, except when it comes to one person—Grace Silver, who has been an enigma to him since their first meeting in Mellany.
Lena smiles, tilting her head, a hand brushing her hair to one side. "The students are great, but…" She pauses, biting her lip slightly. "I've been feeling a little nervous about student's evaluations. I really want to perform well for them, but I'm not sure if I'm doing a good job."
Julian offers her a comforting smile. "Don't worry. The fact that you're even thinking about it shows how much you care about being a good professor. That's already more than half the battle."
Lena's eyes soften, and she gives him a flirtatious wink. "Really? Your words always cheer me up."
Julian smiles faintly, his gaze momentarily flicking to his phone, which buzzes in his hand. His thoughts drift to the idea of finally leaving his office and unwinding, but he isn't sure how to wrap up the conversation without seeming rude.
Lena, sensing his subtle disinterest, doesn't let the moment pass. She stands up, moving toward his desk with a purposeful stride. "Actually, Julian, I wanted to ask you something." She sits herself down on the edge of his desk, her posture casual but undeniably close. Her presence is magnetic.
Julian raises an eyebrow, his calm façade unbroken. "What's on your mind?"
Lena's smile widens, a twinkle in her eyes. "There's a fashion event next Saturday, and I'd really love for you to come with me. It's a party celebrating the theme of the early 1900s. My friend from the Harrison Fashion Group gave me two tickets. What do you think?"
Julian hesitates, momentarily taken aback. He's never been much for parties. "Hmm… I'm not sure. I'll need to check my schedule."
Lena leans in a little closer, her eyes never leaving his. "It'll be a great opportunity for you to unwind, Julian. You deserve it. Plus, it'll be fun, I promise."
Julian nods slowly, feeling the pressure of her gaze. He's always been good at keeping his emotions in check, but there's something about her attention that makes him uncomfortable, like he's being subtly cornered.
"I'll think about it," he says, his voice steady, but there's a brief flicker of unease beneath the surface.
Lena leans forward and moves her shoulders to the sides, trying to look cute.
"Please? You also missed out on the previous movie premiere I told you to go with. I mean, you're a former fashion designer and currently a professor so you probably know way better than me. I only know interior design since that's my major and my field but don't know anything about fashion."
Julian glances over Lena and she's wearing a red sleek dress with lace on the bottom.
She definitely cares about fashion—there's no doubt about that—but whether it's good fashion, Julian isn't entirely sure. Still, he keeps that thought to himself.
"Well…" he begins, hesitating as Lena leans in even further, the persistence in her eyes almost theatrical.
"Please?" she asks again, her voice soft, almost sing-song.
Julian exhales through his nose and offers a reluctant nod. "...Okay, then."