"Like something good is happening. You look… really up and stable at the same time. What's going on?" Eugene asks.
Julian just shrugs with a smile.
"Oh, wait," Eugene lowers his voice conspiratorially, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You confessed to Grace, didn't you?"
Julian chuckles, shaking his head lightly.
"Confession? Yeah, I guess… that's one way to put it."
Eugene's eyes widen, and with a sharp clap of his hands, he breaks into a wide smile.
Julian waves his hand, half embarrassed.
"You're being funny."
"No, no—I'm serious," Eugene says, sincerity shining through his grin. "I'm genuinely happy for you. Honestly… how long has it been since you actually dated someone?" Eugene tilts his head in the air. "You always said there was only Hannah. And now you've moved on." Eugene chuckles, shaking his head in mock awe. "Wow."
"Well, there's something I haven't told you."
Eugene leans forward, curious.
"What's that?"
"She's actually Hannah."
Eugene freezes mid-motion, fork paused in the air, eyes wide as if he's trying to process something that doesn't quite fit.
"She's… Hannah?" Eugene's voice cracks slightly, disbelief coloring his tone. "What does that mean? Like, Grace Silver is Hannah?"
Julian nods slowly, meeting Eugene's stunned gaze.
"Yes. Grace Silver is Hannah."
"But what you told me a long time ago was that…" Eugene hesitates, searching for the right words. "That Hannah died during the mission…"
The air between them thickens with silence.
Julian feels a sharp tug at his heart, but he keeps his face steady, a soft, almost sad grin lingering on his lips.
Eugene quickly waves his hands as if to erase the weight of his words.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, it's alright," Julian replies with a calm shrug. "That's… true. She did die. Right there. On that mission." He pauses, swallowing the memory. "And as unbelievable as it sounds, I've found out that Grace is having dreams—visions—about her past life as Hannah. And I'm in those dreams too. She's dreaming of the time when we were together."
Eugene's eyes widen, faltering under the weight of Julian's revelation. Words seem to catch in his throat, but slowly, the meaning settles in. He nods, quiet and thoughtful.
"I see," Eugene murmurs. "It's hard to believe, but you're not the type to lie about something like this. So, I guess this… this is Sovereign God, leading you two back together. That's the only explanation."
Julian nods slowly, meeting Eugene's gaze with quiet conviction.
"Right. That's exactly what I think."
"And… How did you find out about the dreams? Does she know the truth? That these dreams are her past life?"
Julian's voice falters slightly. "She doesn't know that. Not yet. She just thinks it's a series of strange dreams."
Eugene's brow furrows.
"So she doesn't know…" he murmurs. "If she did, it might scare her."
Julian nods softly, fully understanding.
To learn about a tragic, painful death lived long ago—the betrayal, the loss—that's a burden too heavy for Grace to carry right now.
"So," Julian says quietly, "I'm planning not to tell her. Not yet. Maybe not at all."
Eugene takes a slow sip of the non-alcoholic cocktail, the liquid sliding coolly down his throat as he lowers the crystal-clear cup back onto the wooden table. The dim lights above them reflect faintly on the glass, flickering like fireflies caught in thought.
He leans back in his chair with a knowing smile and says, "I think you should do that. I mean, as long as you don't tell her, she won't find out, right?"
Julian doesn't answer immediately. His gaze settles somewhere beyond the rim of his untouched drink, quiet and composed. His fingers rest lightly on the edge of the table as he thinks—not panicked, not hesitant, just calmly.
Then, after a beat, he speaks, his voice low and steady. "I'm not sure about that. But what I can do for her now is to be with her while she's going through this dream. That's all I can do for her… for now."
Eugene nods thoughtfully, the weight of his friend's words sinking in.
"Yeah, that sounds good," he says. Then he exhales with a half-laugh and leans forward a little. "Still, I can't believe this is actually happening. Like—how is this even real?"
He lets out another laugh, this time louder, shaking his head as if to clear the haze of disbelief.
Julian chuckles softly, his smile brief but warm.
"Yeah." He takes a sip from his glass and glances at Eugene. "So—about your wedding. It's next Saturday, right? Just a week left. How's everything coming along?"
Eugene breaks into a wide smile.
"Right? I can't believe it's only a week away. It just feels…" He laughs again, a little helplessly. "Surreal. But in a really good way."
Julian smiles back, the genuine kind that rises from the chest and reaches the eyes. There's something about seeing Eugene this happy that settles a lightness in him.
"You look really happy," Julian says, meaning every word. "I'm happy for you."
Eugene's smile only grows.
"Well, I'm even happier now that I know you've reunited with the love of your life."
Julian lets out a groan-laced laugh, rolling his shoulders with a mock cringe.
"Man… Don't say it like that."
"But it's true," Eugene insists, grinning wide.
Julian changes the subject. "So—how's your fiancée Karen? I haven't talked to her for a while now."
"She's doing good. She's excited for the wedding," Eugene replies. "Honestly, she's the one keeping everything organized right now."
Julian nods with approval, then leans forward with a sudden thought.
"Hey, you should invite Grace to the wedding too," Eugene suggests.
Julian freezes for a second, surprised. His eyes widen just a little before he lets out a laugh and shakes his head.
"No, that's…" He trails off, searching for a reason he can't quite articulate. "We just started seeing each other. It might be a little too…"
"Too demanding for her?" Eugene finishes for him. "I think she'd love it. Wasn't I your best friend? I want you there—with your girlfriend."
"Girlfriend…" Julian echoes the word, almost tasting it. He chuckles, that shy kind of laugh that gives away more than he means to. "Right. Well… I'll think about it."
Eugene gives him a playful shove in the arm.
"Think about it? Just ask her, bro," he says, laughing.
The night stretches on, wrapped in warm lights and casual music in the background. Their conversation drifts from the present into the past, full of memories, teasing, and the kind of laughter that only years of friendship can produce. In the midst of all the uncertainty around them, this moment—simple, honest, and shared—feels solid.
Grace's fingers move swiftly across the laptop keyboard, the soft tapping of the keys echoing faintly in the stillness of the dimly lit library. Shadows gather between the towering shelves of ancient books, and warm golden light glows from lanterns suspended above, casting a hushed, almost enchanted atmosphere over the space. The library's dark wood interior, velvet cushions, and low ceilings give it a secretive charm—moody and serene. Out of all the libraries scattered across the university campus, this one is Grace's sanctuary, her favorite hideaway.
She sits at the very edge of a long wooden table, her open notebook resting beside her laptop, filled with scribbles and highlighted lines. Most of the other students have already left—it's nearly 6 p.m., and the air has settled into that quiet, post-study lull. The kind of quiet that wraps around her shoulders like a cloak.
A soft whisper breaks the stillness.
"Grace."
She pauses and looks up. A small, surprised smile curls on her lips when she sees the familiar face standing in front of her.
"Hey," she whispers back.
Harry sets his backpack down on the opposite side of the table and slides into the chair across from her, his presence somehow fitting into the library's hush like a puzzle piece. His hair is tousled from the wind outside, his eyes alert but warm beneath the lantern glow.
"You still studying?" he whispers, leaning forward slightly.
Grace nods, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm not done with the thesis paper yet," she whispers back. Her voice is soft but clear. She glances around the quiet corners of the library to make sure they're still alone—she hates the idea of being the one who breaks the sacred silence. When she's sure no one's near, she allows her voice to lift just slightly. "Why didn't you go home already?"
Harry shrugs with a small smile, his elbows resting on the table.
"Do you have time?"
Grace studies him for a moment, the flicker of the lantern light reflecting in her eyes. Then, she nods.
"Sure."
The two sit side by side on a wooden bench tucked beneath a row of rustling autumn trees, nestled deep in the quieter part of the university campus. It's already past 7 p.m., and the sky has dipped into that in-between shade of twilight—no longer golden, not yet dark. A soft blue hue settles over the world like a translucent veil, casting long shadows and gentle outlines. The streetlamps haven't fully flickered on yet, but there's just enough light to see by. Everything feels suspended, hushed.