"Then... one week."
Julian Fairchild heard his agreement, but there was no change in his expression.
The wound that had already healed was now faintly aching again. He closed the door and leaned against it, gazing into the distance where Maeve Lane's dormitory was.
So close, yet seemingly unreachable.
...
Maeve Lane, feeling drowsy, yawned. Today, Henry Hughes said he had something to tell her, so she came to the basketball court.
The people from the basketball club were still training here as usual, now doing their warm-up laps.
Julian Fairchild and Henry Hughes rarely came after their coaching duties ended.
She sat in the stands, with faint dark circles under her eyes, looking as if she hadn't slept well last night.
"Sorry for being late." Henry Hughes's slightly apologetic voice sounded to Maeve Lane's right.
She slightly turned her head, lazily saying, "No worries, what do you want to talk to me about?"
