Finding light in the darkest places—through love-Chapter 91 – The Quiet Before the Return
Chapter 91 - 91 – The Quiet Before the Return
Wednesday morning brought a kind of chill that clung to Evelyn's fingertips as she zipped up her hoodie, pacing slowly through the dorm hallway, phone pressed to her ear.
"Mom says they'll pick me up from the station," she said into the receiver. "So I won't need to drag my suitcase through town this time."
On the other end of the call, Mia's voice crackled through. "You okay?"
Evelyn let out a soft breath. "Honestly? I'm not sure."
There was a pause.
"It's only four days," Mia said gently.
"Four days where I'm going to be stuck at the dinner table with my mother pretending things are normal," Evelyn replied, voice flat. "That's like four years of emotional time."
Mia made a sympathetic sound. "You want me to sneak you earplugs and a fake emergency phone call schedule?"
Evelyn chuckled despite herself. "Tempting."
They talked a little longer—about nothing and everything—before saying their goodbyes. But even after the call ended, Evelyn didn't move right away.
She stared out the hallway window at the row of bare trees lining the path toward the main gate. She didn't know why, but every time she thought about going home, her chest tightened.
Not because of danger. Not because of hatred.
But because of the silence. The avoidance. The constantly felt like she had to shrink herself just to fit into the mold her mother expected.
She didn't want to go back to being that version of herself.
Packing the Past and Present
Back in her room, she started packing in slow, distracted motions.
She folded clothes mechanically. Reached for her skincare bag. Thoughtlessly tucked a book she knew she wouldn't get to read.
It wasn't until she opened her desk drawer to grab her charger that her fingers paused.
There, sitting tucked beneath her notebooks was a folded note. A leftover from finals week last semester—something Adrian had once passed to her instead of texting, in one of their early moments of casual closeness.
In neat handwriting, it read:
"Drink water. Eat something. Rest. Your brain needs fuel to be brilliant."
She smiled faintly.
How was it possible that something so small could make her heart feel steadier?
Without overthinking it, she took out her phone and typed a quick message.
Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.
Evelyn: Going home Friday. Trying not to spiral. Packing like a professional overthinker.
The reply came faster than she expected.
Adrian: Do you want to call, or should I send you a playlist that gently bullies you into calmness?
She let out a small laugh and plopped down on her bed.
Evelyn: Both?
Even Through a Screen
Later that night, with the light dimmed and her suitcase half-zipped at the foot of her bed, Evelyn lay on her side, phone cradled to her ear. Adrian's voice filtered through the speaker—soft, grounded.
"Remind me again why this trip is such a minefield?"
Evelyn exhaled slowly. "Because I've gotten used to breathing on my own. And every time I go home, it's like walking into a room where the air's thinner. Like I have to hold my breath just to make it through the visit."
She hesitated. "I'm not ungrateful. I just... I don't feel seen there."
Adrian was quiet for a moment.
"I don't think it's ungrateful to want to be understood," he said finally. "You're allowed to outgrow the space people try to keep you in."
Evelyn closed her eyes.
"Sometimes I think my mom still sees me as the scared little girl who never said anything wrong. Who just wanted peace."
"And now?"
"Now I say what I think. I push back. I exist on my terms." She paused. "And I think it scares her."
There was a rustle on the other end. Adrian adjusting, maybe. Then his voice, lower, closer somehow.
"I hope you know... you don't have to shrink just to make other people comfortable."
Evelyn smiled. A small, tired, grateful thing.
"I think I do. At least when I'm with you."
Another pause.
Then Adrian asked, "What do you need from me this weekend? I mean it."
She blinked at the ceiling.
It was a simple question. And yet...
"I think I just need someone to remind me that I'm not the version of myself she keeps expecting," Evelyn said quietly. "That I've grown. That it's okay to be more than what I used to be."
"I can do that," he said, without hesitation.
A beat.
"I'll text you every morning," he added. "And if things get overwhelming, you can call. Even if we sit in silence for a while."
Evelyn felt her chest tighten—not in fear, but in relief. In comfort.
In safety.
On the Edge of Goodbye
Friday came quickly.
Her suitcase was by the door. Her coat was on. And yet Evelyn lingered, staring at the quiet room she was about to leave behind for a few days.
She picked up her phone.
Evelyn: Heading out soon.
Adrian: I know.
Evelyn: Is it weird that I'm going to miss you?
There was a pause. And then:
Adrian: Not weird. Just mutual.
Her breath caught. She held onto that.
A second later, another message came through.
Adrian: Take care of yourself. Let me be the voice in your head if the real ones get too loud.
She blinked back a sudden rush of emotion.
Then she replied:
Evelyn: You already are.
And with that, she stepped out the door, suitcase in hand.
The wind nipped at her cheeks. The path to the station stretched ahead.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she was walking into that house alone.
