Sera stepped out of the lecture hall with steady steps, but the quiet inside her chest hadn't settled yet. The moment she turned the corner, she finally let out the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. Her heartbeat felt slow, thick, almost heavy in a way that made the world seem slightly out of sync with her pace.
Her phone buzzed again from inside her bag, but she didn't reach for it. Not yet. Not after the way Julian had looked at her just minutes ago — with something cautious, conflicted, and too concerned for someone trying so hard to remain distant.
He didn't say much.
He didn't ask much.
He didn't step forward.
But he didn't fully retreat either.
And she didn't know what to do with that.
She pressed her hand gently against her bag as if she could silence her phone through touch alone. Students walked past her, filling the hallway with laughter, hurried footsteps, and the muted hum of everyday life. The world kept moving, loud and bright and busy, while Sera stood still in the middle of it — a quiet center in a spinning crowd.
Her phone buzzed again.
Two short vibrations.
A pause.
Then another.
Insistent.
Unavoidable.
Expected.
Sera finally pulled it out.
Vale Estate — Incoming Call
Her thumb hovered over the decline button for less than half a second before she pressed it. The call ended. The silence that followed wasn't relief — it was more like a reminder. A quiet tap on the shoulder saying: "You can't hide forever."
She slipped the phone back into her bag and began walking toward the courtyard, her steps soft against the polished floor. By the time she reached the open air, the breeze felt like a gentle push between her shoulder blades, nudging her forward, urging her to keep moving.
The courtyard was warm with early afternoon sunlight. Students sprawled across benches, sat in groups on the grass, or walked in pairs toward the cafeteria. The fountain sparkled in the light, the droplets catching bright little prisms every time they leapt into the air.
Sera saw Haerin and Minji sitting beneath the large oak tree. Minji was waving her hands dramatically about something, while Haerin sat cross-legged, staring critically at a pastry as if trying to decide whether it was worth eating.
Sera approached quietly.
Minji spotted her first. "There she is! Miss Thinking-Too-Much."
Sera blinked. "I'm always thinking."
Minji pointed at her suspiciously. "Correct. But today, you're thinking with your eyebrows. That's the dangerous thinking."
Haerin held out the pastry toward Sera without looking up. "Take it."
"I'm not hungry."
"That's nice," Haerin said flatly, still not looking. "Take it."
Sera took the pastry.
Haerin didn't ask questions.
Minji didn't push too far.
They simply shifted over to make space.
Minji leaned her head on Sera's shoulder dramatically. "I missed you. Haerin bullied me."
"You deserved it," Haerin muttered.
Their banter washed over Sera like familiar warmth. Nothing about them pierced deeper than it should. Haerin didn't stare too long. She didn't try to read her. She didn't notice the exhaustion sitting behind Sera's steady expression.
That was the good thing about her friends.
They only saw what she offered.
And today, Sera offered silence.
Minji poked her cheek. "Blink twice if you're spiraling."
Sera blinked once.
Minji nodded wisely. "That's the polite version. Acceptable."
Haerin finished her pastry and dusted off her hands. "Don't worry too much. People who think too much get wrinkles."
Sera laughed softly. "Thanks for the warning."
"Anytime."
They shifted to lighter topics — clubs, events, signatures needed for a silly petition someone was passing around. Minji ranted about how someone stole her favorite seat in the cafeteria. Haerin rolled her eyes at least six times. They tried pulling Sera into their nonsense, and she let them.
She even laughed — a small sound, but real.
Her phone buzzed again.
She ignored it.
Minji didn't notice.
Haerin didn't either.
They were caught up in a debate over whose handwriting was worse.
And that was exactly how Sera wanted it.
Minutes passed in small comfort before her next class approached. She rose from the bench, brushing crumbs off her skirt.
"I'll see you after," she said.
Minji nodded enthusiastically. "We're kidnapping you for bubble tea."
"You can try."
Haerin nudged her shoulder. "Bring your umbrella. It might rain."
Sera nodded and turned toward the academic building.
The walk felt longer than usual.
She walked with her gaze lowered, threading through the crowds without paying attention to the faces. Her thoughts circled endlessly, but they weren't spiraling. They were slowly, quietly rearranging themselves.
She wasn't thinking about the Vale Estate.
Not yet.
She wasn't thinking about the text that said, "It's time."
Not yet.
She was thinking about Julian.
About the way he had looked at her — startled, then concerned, then hiding behind professionalism again. About the way he hadn't stepped forward when she walked away. About the way his voice softened when he said her name but hardened again when he needed to retreat.
She wished her heart didn't react to every small shift in him.
She wished she wasn't always aware of the exact second he held his breath.
She wished she didn't care so much about a man who wasn't built for the kind of love she carried inside her.
She reached the building.
And there he was.
Julian.
Standing near the tall windows, sleeves rolled, a folder in his hand, expression carved into professional neutrality. He looked like he was in the middle of a conversation with another professor, nodding once, listening intently.
But she saw it immediately —
the tightness in his shoulders.
Before she could turn away, the conversation ended. The other professor walked off, leaving Julian alone.
He turned.
And saw her.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment — just a moment — time thinned like glass.
His expression flickered.
Just for a second.
A crack in the mask he always wore.
Worry?
Confusion?
Something deeper?
She couldn't tell.
She held his gaze anyway.
Not asking.
Not approaching.
Not expecting.
Just waiting for something to shift.
But Julian was Julian.
The man built from restraint.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown.
He didn't call her name.
He turned away.
Quietly.
Almost gently.
But still — turned away.
Sera inhaled slowly and let the air settle deep in her chest.
She walked past him without looking back.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because sometimes loving someone meant giving them the space they weren't brave enough to claim.
The classroom felt cooler when she entered. She took her seat, letting her fingers rest over the empty page of her notebook.
The faintest ache stirred beneath her ribs.
Not heartbreak.
Not even hurt.
Just a small, invisible shift — a feeling like stepping on a loose stone you didn't know was unstable.
Something inside her whispered:
"Something is wrong.
Something is changing.
Something is tightening."
But she didn't name it.
She didn't want to.
Because naming things made them real.
And she still wanted to pretend things were fixable.
Just for today.
Just for now.
She straightened her spine, opened her notebook, and waited for the next moment she would have to navigate the fragile quiet between her and Julian Lee.