She Will Wake Up

She looks up, surprised by his tone, and nods. 

"Of course, Harry."

The lecture begins, but the atmosphere remains tinged with a strange sort of restlessness. Notes are taken, slides are shown, but it's clear most students are already mentally checked out—ready for the break ahead.

When the session ends, chairs scrape back and students filter out of the classroom in noisy clusters.

"Grace Silver didn't even turn in the final paper?"

"Did you hear? She's probably dropping out after starting that whole thing with that professor—what's his name again?"

"Julian. You know, the hot one."

Laughter and whispers trail down the hallway as the gossip spreads like wildfire.

Harry squints slightly, irritation flickering in his eyes. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and makes his way to the front of the room where Candice is closing her laptop.

"Mrs. Candice," he says respectfully, his tone calm but firm.

She looks up. 

"Yes, Harry?"

There's a beat of silence before he speaks.

"Grace got hit by a car a few days ago," he says quietly. "She's unconscious. She's in the hospital right now."

Candice blinks, startled. Her eyes widen with genuine concern. 

"What? Oh my goodness… I had no idea. How did that happen?"

Harry's gaze falls briefly to the floor. 

"It was sudden. Just… bad timing."

Candice places a hand on her chest, clearly shaken. 

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Poor girl… she's so bright. So driven."

He nods slowly. 

"I was wondering if there's anything we can do about her coursework—maybe an extension, or… some kind of academic support."

Candice folds her arms and nods thoughtfully. 

"Yes… yes, I'll talk to the faculty committee. In situations like this, we can file for medical deferment or an incomplete. I'll make sure she's supported."

"Thank you," Harry says, the relief barely visible behind his fatigue.

But then he hesitates.

Candice notices.

"What is it?" she asks gently. "Do you have something else to say?"

"Mrs. Candice," Harry begins, standing a little straighter, "I just wanted to say… your course this term—it was really great. I learned a lot. And…" He pauses for a breath. "I also wanted to let you know that I'll be resigning from the degree program."

Candice tilts her head slightly, the corners of her mouth drawing down in surprise.

"Does that mean you're changing your career path?"

Harry nods slowly, his gaze steady but thoughtful.

"Yes. I've decided to pursue a passion that's been reignited in me. Something I left behind for a while… but now I know I need to follow it."

Candice studies him for a long moment, then slowly nods with a soft smile.

"Well," she says, "that's a little sad for me to hear. You were one of the strongest students in the program—insightful, diligent, and passionate. But… I trust you've thought this through." Her voice warms. "I'm proud of you for choosing something that matters to you."

Harry smiles, touched by the sincerity in her voice.

"Thank you, Professor Candice. I really appreciate your support."

He gives a polite nod of gratitude.

"Have a great week," he adds.

"You too, Harry," she says warmly, a flicker of emotion in her expression as she watches him go.

Harry turns and steps out of the lecture hall. The building's doors swing open, and a gust of cold air greets him.

Outside, the sky is pale and overcast. The snow has stopped, but the wind howls across the campus, biting at his cheeks and pushing through the folds of his coat. He pulls it tighter around him, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks down the path between rows of leafless trees.

The campus is quiet, students trickling here and there, scarves wrapped high and boots crunching against the slush.

Then, from a distance, he spots a familiar figure walking toward him.

Tall, composed, wrapped in a long black coat that moves with the wind—Julian. His hair is tousled by the breeze, and the black-rimmed glasses frame his sharp, thoughtful features.

Even from afar, he stands out.

"Julian."

At the sound of Harry's voice, Julian looks up. His eyes, framed by the black-rimmed glasses, meet Harry's with quiet intensity.

"Harry," Julian greets softly.

The two stand facing each other, surrounded by the quiet of the snowy campus, flakes drifting slowly down. The silence between them feels heavy, pressing in.

"I just told my professor that I'm resigning from the degree program," Harry says, his voice firm, but there's an undercurrent of finality.

Julian nods slowly, his gaze steady. 

"I see."

Harry's lips quirk into a faint smile, though his eyes betray the weight of the decision. 

"Well, from now on, I'll pursue my dream. It's time." He pauses, the cold wind tugging at his coat. "And… Right now, Grace is still unconscious, but I know she'll wake up soon. I'm sure of it. When she does, she'll continue to follow her passion, just like she always wanted. She'll wake up."

Julian meets Harry's eyes, his expression warm despite the chill in the air. A quiet understanding passes between them.

"Right. Congrats," Julian murmurs, his voice steady as he begins to walk past Harry.

But then Harry hesitates, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Julian?" he calls softly.

Julian stops and turns, brow furrowing slightly. 

"Yes?"

Harry seems to search for the right words, his gaze flickering between the ground and Julian's face. 

"I didn't tell you until now, but… Grace really cares about you. A lot. I feel it, as a friend."

Julian's breath catches, his heart stalling at the words. He hadn't expected this, and didn't know what to say.

"I'm sure she'll be happy to know you've been waiting by her side," Harry continues, his voice gentle but filled with conviction. "When she wakes up... she'll know."

A warmth spreads in Julian's chest, though the winter air nips at him. It's a strange, bittersweet feeling, but it's there, a quiet certainty that Harry's words are true.

"Right," Julian says, his voice soft. He gives Harry a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks for telling me."

Harry nods, offering a final, knowing smile before turning away, walking toward the street.

Julian stands there for a moment, watching Harry's retreating figure. A faint smile lingers on his lips, though there's a pang deep in his chest. He can feel the depth of Harry's care for Grace, and it makes his heart ache in ways he isn't ready to face.

With a sigh, Julian turns and heads toward his faculty building, the cold biting at his skin as he enters the lobby and waits for the elevator. The quiet hum of the building feels louder than usual, his thoughts swirling from the conversation he just had.

As he waits, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

"Julian?"

He turns to find Professor Lena walking toward him, eyes soft with rare concern.

"Oh, Lena," he greets, surprised to see her there.

Lena slows as she approaches, her usual composure faltering just slightly as she looks at him. 

"You've heard, haven't you?" she asks, her voice carrying an unexpected note of worry.

Julian's heart skips a beat. 

"What do you mean?"

Lena sighs, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes. 

"Grace Silver, the student from your course... She's in the hospital. Unconscious." Her expression softens, and Julian sees the genuine concern behind her usually sharp gaze. "There's a discussion going on in her degree faculty committee about what to do with her status. It's... serious."

Julian's face falls, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn't know how to respond; the words feel heavier than before.

Slowly, he nods. 

"I see…"

Grace's hospitalization is now public knowledge, and the faculty committee has already begun discussing what to do about her status. 

The weight of it hits Julian like a physical blow, tightening his chest and deepening the ache in his heart. He cares so much for her, and the sadness of knowing this—of seeing her situation so uncertain—pierces him in ways he can't quite express.

Lena's voice breaks through the tension. "I mean, she was a close student to you, I guess... I'm sorry," she says quietly, her tone uncharacteristically soft.

Julian slowly nods, a dull ache in his throat. He wants to say something, but the words feel too heavy, too fragile. Instead, he simply looks at Lena and offers a small, thankful smile.

"Thank you for caring," he says quietly. "She'll wake up. Very soon."

Lena's lips curve into a faint, knowing smile, her eyes carrying a warmth that is rare for her.

"I hope so," she says gently, her voice sincere. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, "I need to go to my lecture now, but I'll see you again soon."

Julian nods in return, his own smile faint but genuine. He lifts a hand in a casual wave. "Have a good day."

"You too, Julian," Lena replies, and with a final nod, she turns and walks toward the lobby, her footsteps soft on the polished floor.

The elevator dings open at the perfect moment, and Julian steps inside, the door closing behind him with a soft whoosh. As the elevator begins its ascent, Julian leans back against the wall, his thoughts spinning—everything about Grace, about her future, feels uncertain. And yet, in his chest, a quiet belief remains.

She will wake up.