Grace unlocks the door to her apartment just past 10 p.m., the chill of the winter night still clinging to her puffed long jacket. She shrugs it off immediately, letting it fall onto the entryway chair without a second glance. Her body moves on autopilot—no lingering in the kitchen, no scrolling on her phone. Straight to the bathroom.
She cleanses the sunscreen off her face and splashes cold water onto her face. Face wash. Toothbrush. A splash of mouthwash. Her limbs feel like they've lost all coordination, her mind heavy from hours of intense focus.
She throws herself onto her bed, arms spread wide like she's collapsing into soft clouds. The bedsheets smell faintly of lavender. Her muscles relax, her mind finally beginning to loosen its grip. The soft memory of the evening lingers—laughing with Harry over sandwiches on the campus bench. That short dinner felt like a warm punctuation to a long, cold sentence.
Her eyes flutter shut, and she inhales deeply.
Thank You, God, she whispers in her heart. Thank You for walking with me through another day.
As sleep tiptoes in, her phone buzzes. She ignores it, assuming it's a text. Probably someone from her group chat sending another sticker or meme. But the vibration doesn't stop. It hums again. And again. Persistent.
Groaning slightly, Grace reaches for the phone on her nightstand. Her fingers wrap around it lazily. She flips it over.
Her eyes snap open.
"Professor Julian?" she whispers to herself, barely audible in the dim room.
Her heart skips a beat.
The screen glows back at her, unmistakably displaying his name. It's already past 10:30 p.m.
Her heart begins to thrum—half confusion, half excitement.
She clears her throat, quickly sitting up and straightening her posture even though no one can see her. Then, without giving herself more time to overthink, she answers.
"Hello," she says softly, her voice still slightly muffled from lying down.
There's a pause. Then his voice comes through, smooth and low like warm velvet.
"Sorry. Were you asleep?"
His tone is gentle, unintrusive—yet it carries a gravity that settles in her chest. The moonlight filters in through the window, washing her room in silver and shadow. His voice blends seamlessly into that silence, like it belongs there.
"No, I was just… resting." Her voice lifts slightly. "Not asleep yet."
She doesn't want him to hang up.
From the other end of the line, she hears a soft chuckle. It makes her smile—unconsciously.
"I see," Julian replies. "Then I called at the right time, I guess."
Grace turns onto her side, nestling her head into the pillow. She brings the phone closer to her ear, the warmth of it soothing in her hand. Her heart beats faster, but it's a flutter she doesn't mind.
"What were you doing?" she asks, her voice quiet, maybe a little too soft.
Something about asking feels oddly vulnerable—like she's stepped into a scene from a romance movie. She cringes inside, but it's a delighted cringe.
This is just like how couples talk late at night, she thinks, and the idea makes her smile even more.
"I just came back from running," Julian says casually. "Took a shower. I was about to head to bed."
"You run?" Grace asks, surprised.
"Yeah," Julian chuckles softly, his voice rumbling low through the speaker. "Is that a surprise to you?"
Grace chuckles too, mirroring the warmth in his tone. "I didn't know you were the type who runs."
There's another gentle laugh from Julian, a kind of sound that melts into the quiet of her darkened room. It's not the polished, distant voice he uses in class. It's smaller, closer. Real.
Something about it settles inside her like a warm cup of tea. For the longest time, she's always thought of Julian as a little intimidating—refined, brilliant, hard to read. But lately, especially tonight, he feels… comfortable. Soothing. Soft.
Or maybe, she thinks with a private smile, it's because this relationship isn't mine to control. Maybe God's already written this story, and that's why it feels so safe.
"I run almost every morning and night," Julian says, still casual, as if mentioning the weather.
Grace props herself on one elbow, blinking.
"Wait… every morning and night? Like, twice a day?"
"Yeah," he replies with a shrug in his voice. "Like an hour each time."
Her jaw drops slightly.
"That's insane. I didn't know you were—"
She stops herself, realizing her words are about to sound far too honest.
Julian doesn't let her off the hook. His voice turns just the tiniest bit playful.
"Didn't know I was what?"
Grace laughs under her breath, feeling a bit caught. "
I didn't know you were the athletic type. I thought you were more of a… book-reading, paper-writing, fashion-dabbling professor."
Another soft laugh escapes from him, and it lands gently in her ears.
"Do you like running?" he asks.
"Running?" Grace repeats, wrinkling her nose. She thinks for a second. "No."
Julian chuckles again.
"Why not?"
"Because I hate the feeling of panting and sweating like I'm dying," she says flatly. "Honestly, the only reason I'd ever run is if a monster—or a serial killer—is chasing me."
That makes Julian laugh again, and this time it lingers longer. Grace grins, pleased by his amusement.
"Then what do you like to do instead?" he asks, a genuine curiosity in his voice.
"I like riding bikes," she says immediately. "It's fun. And the wind feels so cool on your face when you go fast."
"Hmm." Julian hums thoughtfully. Then, after a beat, he says, "All right. Then for our next date—"
He pauses. Grace hears it—feels it, even. That tiny awkward pause.
It's the first time either of them has said date out loud.
Her heart flutters in the best kind of cringe—the kind that makes her toes curl in delight under the blanket.
Julian clears his throat and continues. "You ride the bike… and I'll run next to you."
A slow, happy smile blooms across Grace's face.
"Sure," she says softly. "I'd love that."
Julian lets out another low chuckle. It's quiet for a moment—good quiet. The kind where nothing needs to be said. Just presence.
"Well," he murmurs, his voice tapering off, "since you need to sleep now…"
A pause. Neither rushes to fill it.
"Good night, Grace."
The way he says it—it's like a whisper wrapped in velvet. So soft. So gentle. So unexpectedly tender that her heart gives a small, surprised squeeze.
She smiles again but replies with casual ease, trying not to sound too carried away. "Yes, you too. Good night, Prof—"
She catches herself.
There's a small, amused breath from the other side.
"Good night, Julian," she says instead, quieter now.
And just like that, the call ends.
Grace holds the phone to her chest for a second, letting the silence stretch. Then she places it gently on the bed beside her. Her eyes drift shut, her heart still tapping at a faster rhythm than usual.
Lord… Thank You. Thank You so much for leading us to meet, she whispers in her heart, her lips barely moving.
Miles away, in a quiet, minimalist apartment wrapped in midnight shadows and amber lamplight, Julian sinks into the corner of his sofa. His damp hair brushes the back of his collar. The windows stretch floor-to-ceiling, revealing a glittering night skyline, quiet and still.
He exhales slowly, gazing out into the twinkling city.
"Thank You, Lord," he murmurs, eyes soft with wonder. "Thank You… for everything."
Sunday morning arrived quietly, wrapped in the chill of late November. Grace stepped into the living room, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as the cold air kissed her skin.
It was already the last week of November.
"Wow…" The word slipped from her lips in a breath of wonder.
Outside the window, the world had transformed overnight. A thick blanket of snow covered the rooftops and sidewalks, clinging to the branches of bare trees like powdered sugar. Snowflakes continued to drift down gently from the sky, dancing in the early morning light. It was the first true snowfall of the season—silent, soft, and breathtaking.
She stood there for a moment, letting her gaze sweep across the peaceful cityscape. The world seemed slower somehow, hushed and pure. Pulling out her phone, Grace captured a short video—the flakes falling steadily from the pale sky, the city below cloaked in white.
"Wow…" she whispered again, more to herself than anything.
Her thumb hovered over the screen as she rewatched the short clip. She thought of Julian—how he always seemed calm and steady, like snowfall itself. Would he like this? Maybe. Probably. She hesitated for a second, then hit send.
It was still early, but he'd see it when he woke up.
With a soft smile lingering on her lips, she set the phone aside and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. There was a flea market at church that morning, and she had promised to help out from the start.
After her shower, she stepped out, towel-drying her hair briskly as she returned to her room. The cold bit at her skin, sharper now after the warm steam of the shower.
If I don't dry my hair properly, it'll freeze in this weather, she thought with a half-laugh.
She plugged in the dryer and began running her fingers through the damp strands, warmth humming in her hands. Just then, her phone buzzed with a soft vibration on the desk beside her.
Julian.
She glanced at the screen and smiled again.
That was all it said. Simple. Typical of him.
She shrugged and smiled, a small warmth blooming in her chest that had nothing to do with the hair dryer.
Yes. It was already winter.