Midnight Conversation

The words don't leave his lips, but they echo in his mind.

Then, softly—so softly—it's almost a breath, he speaks.

"Grace."

Grace stirs at the sound of her name. Her eyelids flutter open, and the first thing she sees is Julian—standing quietly before her, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

She startles, sitting up abruptly, brushing sleep from her eyes. Her voice is soft and hoarse from slumber.

"Oh… is the room key ready?"

"Yes. The hotelier will be here soon."

He turns and walks toward the door. Grace hesitates for a beat, still shaking off the weight of sleep, then rises to follow him.

When did I even fall asleep? she wonders. 

Her body feels lighter now, her mind clearer, but there's a strange warmth in her chest that lingers. She hadn't seen it, but somehow—somewhere deep in her—she felt the softness in Julian's presence. As if even in sleep, she'd sensed the quiet way he looked at her. The calm in him.

They stand by the door. A moment of silence stretches between them—not awkward, not tense. Just… calm.

And then he speaks, the corner of his mouth tugging into a subtle smile.

"Next time, don't leave your key in the room and lock yourself out."

Grace lets out a soft breath and returns the smile, her voice light with gratitude. "Thanks."

Julian opens the door.

As Grace steps into the hallway, they both spot the hotelier approaching—his suit crisp, one hand raised, holding the new room key aloft like a tiny flag of rescue.

"Here's the room key, Ma'am," he says with a polite nod.

Grace gives a sheepish smile, her voice still tinged with sleep. "Thank you. Sorry for the disturbance."

"No, no—we're sorry it took a while," the hotelier replies, his tone sincere as he hands the card to her. "Have a great night, Ma'am."

Then he turns to Julian, still standing in the doorway. "Have a good night, Sir."

Julian inclines his head. 

"You too."

The hallway falls quiet again, and for a moment, it's just the two of them under the soft hallway light.

The hotelier walks back down the hall, footsteps echoing briefly before fading into the quiet.

Grace scans the new room key. The lock beeps, a soft green light flashes, and the door clicks open. She steps inside, the robe still cinched at her waist, her movements slow with lingering sleep.

Julian remains where he is, just outside his own room, watching her from across the hall.

Before disappearing into her room, Grace turns back. Her hand lingers on the edge of the doorframe, and her eyes find his.

"Thank you, Professor. Once again, I would say," she says with a tired but genuine smile.

Then she turns away, the door closing gently behind her with a muffled click.

Julian stands still. Watches the closed door across from his. A sigh escapes him, deep and quiet, as if letting go of a weight he didn't realize he was carrying. But there's a smile on his lips—one he doesn't even notice forming.

"Okay, Grace Silver… have a good night," he murmurs to himself as he turns, stepping back inside.

The door shuts. The hallway falls into silence.

But that silence doesn't last long.

From the shadowed end of the corridor, a figure lingers. A man stands perfectly still, half-shrouded in the dim light spilling from a nearby wall sconce. His face is unreadable, eyes fixed on the now-closed doors of room 1105.

His voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries a sharpness that cuts through the still air.

"Grace Silver… I told you not to meet up with that guy…"

It's midnight.

The living room of Julian's hotel suite is dimly lit, the glow from a small table lamp casting warm shadows across the room. He sits at the round table, across from Eugene—his best friend and longtime confidant. A pair of untouched non-alcoholic cocktails rest between them, half-melted ice swirling lazily in their glasses.

"It was really good to see everyone back," Eugene says, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. He lifts his glass and takes a slow sip, smiling into the silence.

Julian returns the smile, faint but genuine. He raises his own glass, taking a sip. The drink is cold, citrusy, but it does little to wash away the thoughts looping quietly in the back of his mind.

Grace.

She lingers like a note left unresolved in a song—present, hovering, impossible to forget. Even now, as he sits across from Eugene, trying to stay in the moment, her name floats just beneath the surface of every thought.

After a long pause, he speaks.

"What's around this hotel?" he asks, casually—too casually. "You know any places nearby?"

Eugene shrugs.

"Not much, really. Most people come here for conferences, or events like ours. It's not a tourist spot. No real attractions around here." He narrows his eyes slightly, curious. "Why are you asking?"

Julian shrugs, trying to play it off. A faint smile curves his lips, but there's a flicker of hesitation behind it.

"No, I was just…" He chuckles, lightly brushing it away. "Never mind."

Eugene leans in, eyes gleaming with suspicion. "Nah, nah—don't do that. You can't drop a question like that and back out. You're making me curious, bro. Just tell me. What is it?"

Julian hesitates. He's been wanting to talk about it—about her—but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without sounding like he's been thinking about her all evening. Which, admittedly, he has.

"Well…" he finally says, voice quiet, eyes downcast. "I actually ran into that girl—Grace—a little while ago. Here. In the hotel."

Eugene nearly chokes on his drink.

"What?" He stares at Julian like he's just grown wings. "You saw her here? That's insane. What are the odds?"

Julian nods slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Right? I thought the same. That's why I was wondering if maybe there was some tourist spot nearby or something—like a reason she'd come all the way out here. It's pretty far from L. Bingo."

Eugene shakes his head. "Nope. Nothing. No reason for her to be here unless she was with someone for an event. Or… unless it's a crazy coincidence."

Julian says nothing for a moment, his gaze distant.

A coincidence... or something else?

"If she's really into climbing," Eugene says, scratching his head, "then maybe she came for the mountain right outside. I've heard it's kind of a hidden gem for serious climbers in this area."

Julian nods, but his gaze drops to the half-empty bottle in front of him. The condensation runs slowly down the glass, pooling at its base. His fingers rest lightly on the table, unmoving.

"I see," he murmurs.

Eugene leans forward, catching the shift in his friend's tone. Then his expression twists into something teasing.

"So… did you two talk?" he asks, dragging the word out with a knowing grin.

Julian's lips curl at the corners.

A talk? The thought almost makes him laugh. It was far beyond a talk, he thinks, shaking his head slowly, still not quite able to believe the bizarre turn the evening had taken.

"Well…" he begins, then pauses. "She was actually locked out of her room."

"What?" Eugene blinks, eyebrows raised. "How does that even happen? Actually, never mind. That stuff just happens. So—did she get the master key or what?"

Julian leans back slightly, clearly debating how much to share. But his lips move before his thoughts can catch up.

"The master key system was down. Some kind of software glitch. They couldn't issue a new one right away."

Eugene's brow furrows. 

"Wait, so… where did she stay in the meantime?"

There's a beat of silence. Julian looks like he's about to backpedal, but Eugene catches it instantly, raising his hand with a mock alarm.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you—" he pauses, squinting—"You brought her here?"

Julian chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I had to," he says with a helpless shrug. "What else was I supposed to do? She was in a towel in the hallway."

Eugene just stares at him for a second before bursting into a laugh. "Man. You two just keep running into each other. It's ridiculous."

Julian smiles but doesn't answer. There's a part of him that wants to dismiss it—chalk it up to coincidence. But another part… a deeper, quieter part… isn't so sure anymore.

"Yeah," he says at last, his voice soft. "I don't know what it is."

Eugene leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, the smirk never leaving his face.

"So she went back to her room a while ago?"

"Yeah, she did."

The vivid image of Grace in the shower robe quietly slipping back to her room flickers behind Julian's eyes. 

But he doesn't tell Eugene that part. It feels too personal—too delicate—to share. He wants to keep that moment private, for Grace's sake.

Eugene leans forward, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes glint with a mix of genuine curiosity and playful mischief.

"It seems like you…" He pauses, watching Julian carefully. "Like her."