Finding light in the darkest places—through love-Chapter 101 – Something Different in the Air

The first morning back on campus felt like walking into a fast-moving river. Students rushed between buildings, coffee in hand, earbuds in, heavy backpacks slung over one shoulder.

There was a buzz of energy in the air—a mixture of new schedules, old routines, and a half-hearted hope that this semester would somehow feel different.

For Evelyn, it already did.

She tugged her sweater sleeves over her hands as she waited outside the lecture hall, the cold seeping through the early morning air. She spotted Adrian coming from across the quad—hoodie up, backpack slung low, the slight tilt of his head as he scanned the crowd and found her.

It was subtle, but when his eyes landed on her, his face softened. He changed course immediately, weaving through the students without hesitation.

"Morning," he said when he reached her, the corner of his mouth quaking.

Evelyn smiled, feeling that quiet rush she still hadn't gotten used to. "Morning."

Without thinking, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm in greeting. Adrian responded in kind, a tiny nudge, a private language only they seemed to speak.

Neither of them said anything about it. They didn't have to.

As the lecture hall doors opened, they filed inside together, claiming two seats near the middle—a spot Adrian had once described as the "perfect zone" for blending in without looking suspiciously antisocial.

Evelyn pulled out her notebook and pen, glancing sideways. Adrian had already sprawled his materials across his half of the table—laptop open, pen twirling idly between his fingers. She noticed, with a jolt of fondness, the way he pushed his coffee cup slightly toward her side, like an unspoken offer to share if she wanted.

Halfway through the professor's opening announcements, Evelyn realized: it wasn't that Adrian was acting differently. It was that now, she noticed everything more acutely.

The way he shifted his chair just slightly toward hers. The way his foot brushed hers once under the table and didn't immediately move away. The way he leaned in a fraction when he whispered a sarcastic comment about the syllabus.

Before, she might have dismissed those small things. Now, they felt deliberate. Natural, but deliberate.

At the break, Adrian leaned closer. "Are you surviving so far?"

Evelyn exhaled a laugh. "Barely."

He grinned and, without thinking, reached over to straighten the edge of her open notebook, where her fingers had been nervously fidgeting with the corner. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

Again—no announcement. No jokes. Just... there.

They wandered into the hallway to stretch their legs before the second half of class. Students buzzed around them in clusters—friends reuniting, study groups forming, familiar rhythms snapping back into place.

And Evelyn realized something else.

She wasn't scanning the crowd anymore.

For the first time, she didn't feel the need to look around for approval or pretend she was more or less interested in anything. She was here, with Adrian, standing close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, and that was enough.

Maybe more than enough.

After class, they headed to the student union for lunch. It was busier now, a low roar of conversation filling the cafeteria. Adrian grabbed a tray, Evelyn following behind him, their movements easy and comfortable.

As they navigated the sandwich line, someone bumped into Evelyn's shoulder hard enough to jostle her tray. She stumbled, muttering a quick apology.

Before she could fully process it, Adrian was there—steadying her tray with one hand, his other hand gently, firmly settling on her lower back.

"Got you," he said, his voice low.

Evelyn glanced up at him. There wasn't even a flicker of hesitation on his face, just calm certainty.

Her heart tripped in her chest.

"Thanks," she managed.

He didn't remove his hand until they were clear of the crowd, and even then, it brushed down her back in a lingering, protective gesture before falling away.

They found a table tucked near the windows, sunlight pooling across the scratched wood surface. Adrian tossed his hoodie onto the chair beside him, raking a hand through his hair.

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They ate in easy silence for a few minutes, the comfortable kind that Evelyn had come to treasure.

Then Adrian glanced up from his sandwich. "Hey."

Evelyn looked up too, mid-bite.

"You're doing great," he said simply.

She blinked. "What?"

"Just... adjusting. Coming back. It's not easy."

The thing was, no one else would have noticed. No one else would have seen the slight tightness in her shoulders or the way her gaze occasionally drifted like she was somewhere else for a moment.

But Adrian did.

She smiled, a slow, blooming thing. "You always know."

He shrugged one shoulder, mock-casual. "Maybe I'm just observant."

"Or maybe you're just..." She trailed off, heat rising to her cheeks.

He didn't press her to finish.

Didn't need to.

Later, as they packed up their trays and headed back into the crisp afternoon, Adrian slung his backpack over one shoulder and said, "You wanna walk around a bit before heading back?"

Evelyn hesitated. She had readings to catch up on, and emails to answer. But all of that could wait.

"Yeah," she said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm without overthinking it.

Adrian's smile was quiet but unmistakable.

They walked the long way around the campus, past the old library with its ivy-covered walls and the empty amphitheater where someone had left a half-finished chalk mural on the stone floor.

Occasionally Adrian would point something out—an odd squirrel, a badly parked scooter, a new coffee truck setting up by the arts building—and Evelyn would laugh, the tightness in her chest unwinding one small thread at a time.

The whole world didn't have to change overnight.

Sometimes, it was enough that they had.

Together.