Grace's fingers are still on the iPhone screen as she finishes typing everything she remembers from the dream.
Her heart tightens. That dull ache returns, curling inside her chest like a whisper she can't ignore. Tears well up again, threatening to spill.
"Not now," she mutters under her breath, forcing herself to blink them back.
She sets the phone aside and slowly pushes herself up. With a small breath, she reaches for the curtain and swipes it open.
Sunlight pours into the room, soft and golden. The hospital aisle stretches ahead of her—quiet, but not silent. Other curtains are pulled shut, forming little cocoons of privacy. Somewhere nearby, she hears the gentle clatter of spoons against bowls and the soft chewing of a patient eating breakfast.
Did Professor Julian already eat? she wonders. Where did he go? The restroom?
Her eyes drift to his bed—it's still empty.
She slides off her bed, her feet pressing against the cool floor, and steps quietly toward the door. With one hand, she grasps the handle and pushes it open.
And that's when it happens—they nearly bump into each other.
Julian stands just outside the door, about to enter, wearing a cast on his left leg and crutches tucked beneath both arms. The sudden closeness startles Grace. She flinches slightly and instinctively steps back, the door falling open wider behind her.
Julian pauses.
He wants to ask if she's okay—last night's memory still lingers in his mind: the way she cried in her sleep, tears streaking silently down her cheeks. But the words don't come. He just looks at her.
Grace slowly lifts her gaze. He's tall—easily more than seven inches taller—and she has to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. His expression is unreadable, neither cold nor particularly warm. There's something softer about it than usual, but not quite soft either. It's… restrained.
"Oh, I was just wondering where you went," Grace says quietly, her voice barely above a murmur.
The corners of Julian's lips curl faintly. Not quite a smile, but close enough to one for her to notice.
Without a word, he uses the small gap she left to step back into the room. The crutches click gently against the floor as he moves past her.
"I'm already done with breakfast," he says simply.
Grace watches him limp back toward the window-side bed, the awkward angle of his leg and the careful weight he places on the crutches making her heart twist with guilt. She follows him back in.
Julian sits on the bed, his movements measured, then leans back against the frame with a quiet exhale.
Grace slides the guardian's bed back into its place beneath his, the metal frame squeaking slightly. Then she stands there, unsure of what to do with her hands, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.
"You can go back home now," Julian says, his tone flat but not dismissive.
"Well…" Grace murmurs.
She doesn't want to leave—not really. But she knows she has to. Church worship service is waiting, and her staying here won't heal his leg any faster.
It's not like my presence would help him recover, she tells herself.
"Then… I'll get going."
I need to move quickly if I'm going to make it to morning worship, Grace thinks, glancing at the time again. I still have to drop by home to shower and change into something comfortable—short sleeves and pants, anything but this.
She tugs at the hem of the black dress she's wearing. It feels like a costume—too formal, too somber, not her. She just wants out of it.
Julian gives a nonchalant nod, barely looking up as he picks up his phone. His fingers move across the screen, clearly mid-text with someone. No reaction. No goodbye.
Grace hesitates for a beat, then says awkwardly, "Have a great day…"
Even as the words leave her mouth, she winces inwardly.
Seriously? That's what I said? In this situation? The irony hits her. He's stuck in the hospital like this because of me… how is he supposed to have a great day?
Julian glances up briefly from his phone. "All right. You too."
Then his gaze drops right back to the screen.
A flicker of disappointment passes through her. The lack of emotion. The way he doesn't even seem to care that she's leaving. Not even a proper goodbye.
Whatever… she tells herself, forcing her feet to move.
She steps into the aisle, the door quietly closing behind her—
"Grace."
His voice stops her. Her name, spoken gently—almost as if it had a different meaning in his mouth.
Her heart skips. Just hearing him say her name like that makes something flutter in her chest.
She turns around.
"Yes, Professor?"
Julian smirks slightly as Grace calls him Professor—even now, outside campus, outside context.
"The doctor said it's no big deal," he says casually, shifting his grip on the crutches. "I'll be out of here in five days. So don't worry, and… you don't need to drop by anymore."
Grace nods, her expression unreadable.
"That's great," she replies in a breezy tone. "I'm really sorry about all of this, Professor. And yeah, if you say so, I'll just pray for you at home." She exhales, then adds quickly, "And please let me know about the hospital bill later on, so I can pay you back through your bank account. Same one as before, right?"
Oh God, why am I rambling? she thinks, feeling her words tumble out too fast.
Julian watches her, amused.
"All right. Have a good day."
All right, have a good day? Grace echoes the phrase in her head. Is that his way of saying he'll send the bill? Or is it code for "please leave"?
She smiles faintly, polite but distant, and gives a small nod. "You too," she says, and walks out of the hospital room without looking back.
Julian's eyes linger on her as she disappears down the hallway and finally slips out of sight.
He exhales slowly, the breath deep and heavy.
Did I really have to tell her not to come again? he wonders, his brow tightening.
But then he remembers the way she nodded, the way she said she wouldn't come again so matter-of-factly.
The corner of his lips tugs upward—dry, sardonic.
Now that Julian's finally admitted his feelings for Grace, this reaction of his feels even more ridiculous.
He stares out the window, his eyes scanning the street below, hoping to catch a glimpse of Grace as she walks away from the building. But from the fourth floor, the world outside is a blur—just a patchwork of summer-green trees, the slow flow of cars, and distant pedestrians.
His gaze drifts, his thoughts tangling.
Hannah… I miss you.
The more he grows closer to Grace, the more he feels an intense, gnawing sorrow for Hannah. And yet, paradoxically, the closer he gets to Grace, the closer he feels to Hannah, too. The contradiction feels suffocating—like two different worlds pressing in on him at once.
He doesn't understand how this can be happening. It's not supposed to work like this. But somehow, it does.
How am I supposed to explain this feeling?
Grace steps out of the hospital building, the summer-green trees lining the streets, cars speeding past in a blur of motion. Just the sight of them racing so quickly makes her flinch slightly, and she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
It was my fault in the first place, she thinks. I should've been more careful. If it wasn't for me, Professor Julian wouldn't have been hurt…
The image of Julian with crutches, bandages on his left leg, his wrist, even on top of his head, keeps replaying in her mind. Her heart aches at the thought.
She sighs deeply, feeling the weight of guilt press down on her. She looks up at the sky, the vast expanse of blue offering her a strange sense of comfort.
"Please, Lord, please heal Professor Julian as soon as possible... thank you that he's not hurt any more seriously..."
Her eyes wander to the clear, endless sky, but instead of the serene blue, she sees his face—his symmetrical, slightly smiling face.
She can't shake the image of him, nor the thoughts that seem to follow her wherever she goes.
"You don't need to drop by anymore."
She recalls his words from earlier. The way he said them, with that distant, unclear tone. It hadn't sounded genuine—not in the way she expected.
But now that I think about it, she thinks, he didn't really mean it, did he?
His words feel more like an afterthought, wrapped in unemotional neutrality. She wonders why she's obsessing over his intentions so much.
And the answer comes to her, unbidden and undeniable. She's known this all along, deep down. She just couldn't bring herself to admit it.
Yeah, I like him…
She sighs again, a mix of frustration and acceptance, but even as she does, her heart flutters, a delicate feeling she can't seem to control. She looks up at the clear blue sky, feeling a little lighter but more uncertain all the same.
From the first moment I saw him… I've been liking him…
The memory floods her mind, the image of Julian appearing out of nowhere, knocking the gangster off of her wrist. His deep eyes, the ones she had already seen in her dreams, locked onto hers. The sensation, the way he made her feel in that moment, all of it—she can't deny it any longer.
There's no more denying it, she realizes with a sudden clarity.
The summer breeze stirs the greenery around her, and she lets herself take in the peacefulness of the moment—the vibrant streets, the gentle rustling of the leaves. It feels like something new is beginning, something she can't quite explain, but the warmth in her chest tells her it's something important.