Every Night, I See You

The entire day has slipped away, leaving Grace to walk home in the deepening darkness of the winter evening. She steps onto the snow-covered sidewalk, each footfall sinking into the crisp, untouched powder. The cold air bites at her cheeks, but there's something oddly comforting in the stillness, the way the snow crunches beneath her boots, as if she's walking in a world all her own.

Her mind drifts, a quiet hum filling the space as she recalls the events of yesterday. 

I'm dating Professor Julian, she thinks with a soft smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. 

The date was lovely, but now, in the shadow of this quiet winter night, she feels a sense of unease creeping in.

At the subway station, Grace waits for the train to arrive. Her breath forms small clouds in the cold air, each exhale visible in the dim light. And then, her thoughts turn to Harry.

He's been on her mind ever since Friday evening, when she noticed something different about him on campus. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced with something darker, more distant. She recalls how he seemed lost in thought, as if something weighed heavily on him. Is something going on with him? A quiet worry stirs in her chest.

She shifts from one foot to the other, her fingers reaching for her phone. Without really thinking, she taps Harry's name in her contacts and hits the dial. The phone rings twice before he picks up.

"Hey, Harry," she says, her voice gentle, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of concern in her stomach.

"Hey," comes Harry's voice, soft and a little distracted, as if he's somewhere else.

Grace forces a lightness into her tone. "You know, it snowed today, and it's still snowing!" She watches the platform lights flicker above her, hoping her cheerfulness can help lift whatever shadow lingers in his voice.

Harry lets out a quiet chuckle, though it sounds a little off. 

"Yup, right... it's snowing, haha." 

The response is brief, but she catches the strain in it—something isn't right.

She hesitates for a moment, glancing up at the dimly lit tunnel where the train will emerge. 

"So, how's everything?" she finally asks, trying to make her question sound casual but knowing it's anything but.

His voice shifts to a more curious tone. "Like… what thing?"

Grace takes a deep breath, the worry pressing down a little heavier on her chest. She's been meaning to ask this, to reach out in a way she hasn't been for him. 

"I mean... you've just seemed a little... lost in thought these days. I was wondering if there's anything going on with you. You've always been such a good friend to me, always checking in and making sure I'm okay. And I don't think I've really done the same for you."

On the other end of the line, there's a brief silence. Then Harry chuckles, though this time it's softer, almost wistful. It's sincere, but there's an undercurrent to it. 

"Well, thank you for worrying," he says. "It's all good. But yeah, you've got a good sense about you. I have been... thinking a lot about something lately. Been in deep thought for a while now, actually." His voice shifts again, a faint note of uncertainty threading through his words. "And it's confusing, but at the same time, it seems pretty clear."

"What is it?" Grace asks.

There's a pause on the other end of the line. The noise of the city fades around her as she waits, the train still nowhere in sight.

Then Harry finally speaks. "Well… I've been thinking of changing my career path."

Grace blinks in surprise, caught off guard. "Oh. All right. To what?"

"To fashion design," he says.

She pauses again, this time even more surprised. "Fashion design?" Her voice rises slightly with disbelief, but not judgment. "That's... very unexpected. But yeah, I totally respect that." She laughs softly, trying to make sense of it. "Out of all the fields, why fashion design?"

There's another silence. On the other end, Harry lies on his back on his apartment bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hasn't told Grace much about his past—especially not about his family or where he really comes from. 

He swallows a breath and finally says, "I've always been interested in it. Since I was younger. Actually… I majored in fashion design as an undergrad. I kind of double-majored, but I didn't talk about it much."

"Oh wow," Grace says, letting out a surprised chuckle. "That's news to me. I guess we still don't know everything about each other, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry says with a light laugh, though there's a hint of nervousness in it. "I'm sorry to just spring this on you out of nowhere. But… Why don't we talk more over dinner? Monday? I can explain everything then."

Grace glances down the tunnel again—still no sign of the train. 

"Dinner on Monday," she repeats. "Sounds good. But… wait. You're dropping out now, right? Is that what this means?"

A silence settles in again.

She senses his discomfort and smiles gently, even though he can't see it. 

"I get it," she says softly.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Harry says, his voice quieter now, more tender. "I really wanted to go through this program with you. It meant something."

"There's no need to be sorry," she says. "I'm just happy for you. Really. If you've found the path that feels right, then you should follow it."

A pause. Then her tone brightens a little. "So I'll see you Monday? Haha."

"Yeah," he says. "Good night, Grace."

"Good night."

The line goes silent. Grace slips the phone back into her coat pocket, still standing on the cold subway platform, the snow falling gently outside.

Just then, the distant rumble of the train grows louder, headlights slicing through the dim tunnel ahead. Grace sees it coming—right on time, as if the universe has waited for her conversation to end.

As the train pulls in and the doors slide open with a familiar hiss, she whispers a quiet prayer in her heart.

Lord, whatever is going on with Harry, please guide him to Your perfect way.

With that, she steps onto the train, the warm interior a small refuge from the cold night outside. The doors close behind her, and the train moves forward, carrying her through the snow-blanketed city and deeper into the quiet, unfolding evening.

It's Monday morning, and the campus is wrapped in a hush of snow. Julian walks briskly, both hands tucked into the deep pockets of his black wool coat. His breath clouds in the frosty air as he makes his way toward the building where his office is located.

Along the path, he passes a few early-rising students—some he recognizes from his lectures, others from brief hallway conversations. Each greeting is exchanged with a polite nod or a casual "Good morning," his footsteps crunching rhythmically over the snow-packed path beneath him.

The entire campus looks like something out of a storybook. Thick snow blankets the lawns and rooftops, and the walkways are neatly cleared into narrow lanes flanked by mounds of white. The sight strikes something soft in Julian. 

Winter's really here, he thinks, letting a small smile rise on his lips. It came faster this year.

His thoughts drift to Grace. She must be arriving about now. A quiet warmth rises in his chest. The memory of their recent date still lingers, fragile and sweet.

By the time he reaches his office, his hands have gone cold, but his mood is light. He shuts the door behind him and walks over to the desk, powering on the computer. As the screen flickers to life, Julian logs into the school's internal messaging system. A notification pings almost immediately.

A message from Harry.

"Hmm…"

Julian narrows his eyes slightly and clicks it open.

He raises an eyebrow. 

He doesn't waste much time typing a reply, .

Julian leans back in his chair, which swivels easily on its wheels, and turns to face the tall window that looks out onto the campus. The snowy landscape stretches quietly outside, bathed in morning light. It's peaceful, serene—but his thoughts are far from still.

What could Harry want to talk about? 

It doesn't feel like a question about an assignment. Julian can sense something heavier beneath the surface.

Then another thought enters his mind—sharp, uninvited.

Does Harry know about Grace and me?

He wonders whether Grace might've already mentioned it. Would Harry care? Would it change something?

Julian taps his fingers lightly on the armrest of his chair, eyes still fixed on the snow-covered campus, the faint smile now faded into a more thoughtful expression.

I guess I'll find out at two.

"You going directly home?" Grace asks, flinging her bag over her shoulder with a casual motion as the lecture hall begins to empty.

The major course class has just ended, and clusters of students drift toward the doors, conversations blending into the low murmur of footsteps and shuffling papers.

"No," Harry replies, adjusting his backpack. "I'm going to hang in the library for a while."

Grace tilts her head, surprised. 

"Thought you didn't like the library. Why not go straight to the café? You always say you study better alone with a coffee in hand."

Harry grins faintly and shakes his head. 

"I've got an appointment. With Professor Julian."

At the name, Grace's brows lift slightly, just for a second. She doesn't react outwardly much, but something shifts in her expression.