CHAPTER FIVE
4978 Words
CRACKS IN THE SPRING
Love never leaves all at once.
It loosens quietly.
Not because two people stop loving each other, but because life begins asking more of them than either expected.
Sometimes, the first crack appears so softly that neither person notices until they are already standing on opposite sides of it.
⸻
Spring settled over Westbridge with the gentleness of a whispered promise.
Cherry blossoms lined the university walkways, their pale petals drifting lazily through the air whenever the wind passed between the old stone buildings. Students gathered on the lawns with books spread open around them, convincing themselves they were studying when they were mostly enjoying the rare English sunshine.
To Evelyn, spring had always felt hopeful.
The campus seemed brighter.
The cafés stayed open later.
The river sparkled beneath the evening sky.
Everything looked alive.
Everything except Daniel’s timetable.
She frowned at the planner he’d shown her over coffee.
“…You’ve scheduled your lunch break?”
Daniel looked up from his notebook.
“If I don’t, I’ll forget to eat.”
She laughed.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
He turned the planner around so she could see.
Every page was filled with neat handwriting.
Monday
Dissertation meeting.
Seminar.
Research.
Interview preparation.
Library.
Tuesday
Revision.
Placement interview.
Research group.
Library.
Wednesday
Mock presentation.
Revision.
Dissertation edits.
Library.
Evelyn looked at the remaining pages.
They were no different.
She closed the planner gently.
“When do you rest?”
Daniel smiled.
“June.”
She didn’t laugh.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“I’ll survive.”
“I know you will.”
“But?”
“I miss you.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Daniel’s expression softened immediately.
“I’m sitting right here.”
“I know.”
She smiled sadly.
“But you’re also… somewhere else.”
He understood exactly what she meant.
His body was beside her.
His mind was constantly racing through deadlines, interviews and chapters that still needed rewriting.
“I hate that you feel like that.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I know.”
He sighed.
“I just need to get through the next few weeks.”
“You don’t have to apologise.”
“I’m not.”
He squeezed her hand.
“I’m promising.”
⸻
Despite his schedule, Daniel never stopped trying.
If he had twenty free minutes between lectures, he spent them with Evelyn.
If he finished studying before midnight, he called her.
Every Thursday afternoon, regardless of how busy he was, he insisted on walking her to her History and International Relations seminar.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Evelyn teased one afternoon.
“What doesn’t?”
“You walk me to class…”
He nodded.
“…then walk all the way back across campus for your own lecture.”
“I know.”
“That’s fifteen minutes in the wrong direction.”
“I know.”
“So why do it?”
Daniel smiled as though the answer was obvious.
“Because I get fifteen extra minutes with you.”
She looked away quickly, pretending to admire the blossom trees lining the path.
“You always know what to say.”
“No.”
He chuckled.
“I just say what I’m thinking.”
“And that’s dangerous.”
“For who?”
“For me.”
He laughed softly.
“I’ll try to be less charming.”
“I don’t think you’re capable.”
“Oh?”
“No.”
She glanced at him.
“I think it’s completely natural.”
His ears turned slightly pink.
“I’ve been called many things.”
“But never charming?”
“Not by the person whose opinion matters.”
Her heart skipped.
It amazed her how effortlessly he could say things that stayed with her for days.
⸻
Across campus, someone else had begun noticing her.
The first time Adrian Blackwood saw Evelyn was entirely by chance.
She was leaving the university library with a stack of books balanced awkwardly in her arms.
One slipped.
Before it could hit the ground, another hand caught it.
“I’ve got it.”
She looked up.
The man standing before her looked older than most of the students around them.
Perhaps twenty-eight.
Well dressed.
Dark-haired.
Confident without appearing arrogant.
He handed the book back.
“You nearly lost a war.”
She frowned.
“What?”
He nodded toward the title.
A History of European Diplomacy.
She laughed politely.
“I suppose I did.”
“I’m Adrian.”
“Evelyn.”
“History?”
“History and International Relations.”
“I thought so.”
“You recognised the books?”
“I recognised the expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one that says you’ve been reading for far too many hours.”
She smiled.
“Guilty.”
“It happens.”
He stepped aside.
“I’ll let you escape.”
“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too.”
She continued walking toward the campus gates.
Adrian watched her until she disappeared behind a line of cherry blossom trees.
⸻
“You’ve gone quiet.”
Nathan Cole dropped into the seat opposite Daniel in the student café.
Daniel looked up from his laptop.
“Have I?”
“You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
Nathan grinned.
“Dangerous habit.”
Daniel closed the laptop.
“I’m just tired.”
Nathan studied him for a moment.
“University tired?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“What then?”
He hesitated.
“I’m worried I’m neglecting Evelyn.”
Nathan leaned back.
“Has she said that?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think it?”
“Because I know her.”
He smiled faintly.
“She’d rather miss me quietly than ask me to choose between her and my responsibilities.”
Nathan nodded slowly.
“She’s that kind of person.”
“Exactly.”
“So…”
He folded his arms.
“What are you going to do about it?”
Daniel looked through the café window toward the old courtyard.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Nathan laughed.
“Again?”
“I want to plan something.”
“For the two of you?”
Daniel nodded.
“One day.”
“No phones.”
“No dissertation.”
“No university.”
“Just…”
He smiled to himself.
“Just us.”
Nathan smiled.
“She’ll love that.”
“I hope so.”
“You know she doesn’t need grand gestures.”
“I know.”
“She just needs to know you’re still choosing her.”
Daniel looked out at the students crossing the square.
“I’ve never stopped.”
⸻
That evening, Evelyn’s phone buzzed just after nine.
Daniel:
“Still awake?”
She smiled immediately.
“Of course.”
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
“Come outside.”
Her eyebrows knitted together.
She hurried to the window overlooking the residence courtyard.
Daniel stood beneath one of the old lanterns, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat despite the mild spring evening.
When he saw her at the window, he waved.
She couldn’t stop smiling.
Five minutes later she was running down the residence steps.
“What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
“You saw me this afternoon.”
“I know.”
“I’ve only been gone four hours.”
“I counted.”
She laughed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He reached into his backpack.
“I brought something.”
“What’s it?”
He handed her a small paper bag from The Ink & Bean, their favourite café.
She opened it.
Inside were two cinnamon buns, still warm.
“You remembered these.”
“You said they taste better at night.”
“I did.”
“You did.”
They sat together on a bench beneath the lantern, sharing pastries while the campus slowly grew quiet around them.
No grand speeches.
No expensive gifts.
Just two students stealing an hour together before tomorrow’s responsibilities reclaimed them.
Neither of them noticed Adrian walking across the far side of the courtyard after leaving an evening alumni networking event.
He recognised Evelyn immediately.
She was laughing.
The kind of laughter reserved for someone who made the world feel lighter.
Adrian followed her gaze.
A young man sat beside her.
Close enough that their shoulders touched.
Close enough that he didn’t need to ask who he was.
He watched them for a brief moment before quietly continuing on his way.
He didn’t know Daniel Mercer.
He didn’t know they were in love.
He only knew one thing.
For the first time in a very long while…
Someone had captured his attention.
And he wasn’t the sort of man who accepted defeat simply because another man had arrived first.
Adrian Blackwood was not a man accustomed to hearing the word no.
Not because women never rejected him.
But because persistence had always served him well.
He believed that people often confused certainty with arrogance, and he had spent years discovering that if he remained patient enough, charming enough, and present enough, doors that were once closed eventually opened.
So when Evelyn walked away from their first meeting outside the library with nothing more than a polite smile, he wasn’t discouraged.
He was intrigued.
⸻
Three days later, she saw him again.
She had just left her International Relations seminar and was walking toward The Ink & Bean, hoping to catch Daniel before his afternoon dissertation meeting.
As she rounded the corner of the Arts Building, she nearly collided with someone.
“I’m beginning to think Westbridge isn’t big enough.”
She looked up.
Adrian smiled.
“You again.”
“I could say the same.”
He laughed lightly.
“I promise I’m not following you.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Good.”
He glanced at the books tucked beneath her arm.
“History again?”
“When isn’t it?”
“I suppose that’s true.”
For a few moments, they walked in the same direction.
The conversation was easy.
Harmless.
He asked about her coursework.
She asked if he was studying too.
“No.”
“I graduated a few years ago.”
“Oh.”
“I’m back for an alumni mentoring programme.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It mostly involves pretending I’ve got life figured out.”
She smiled.
“I imagine everyone feels like that.”
“I certainly do.”
They reached the crossroads that separated the library from the café.
“I’ll leave you here,” Adrian said.
“It was nice talking to you again.”
“You too.”
As she turned to leave, he called after her.
“Evelyn?”
She looked back.
“I hope I see you around.”
She smiled politely.
“I’m sure you will.”
She thought nothing of it.
⸻
Daniel was already sitting at their usual table when she arrived.
A stack of papers surrounded him like a fortress.
“You’ve invaded.”
He looked up, immediately smiling.
“I was waiting.”
“You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted.”
She sat opposite him.
“Have you eaten today?”
“…Define eaten.”
“Daniel.”
“I had a cereal bar.”
She stared at him.
“At eight this morning.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“I’ve been busy.”
She slid her sandwich across the table.
“You’re impossible.”
“You’ll get hungry.”
“I’ll survive.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“You’ll eat.”
He looked at her for a second before laughing.
“I’ve discovered something.”
“What?”
“You’re very persuasive.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Oh?”
“You.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
“You waited outside my lecture building every Thursday for two months.”
“I did.”
“You wore me down.”
“I was patient.”
“You were persistent.”
He smiled proudly.
“I prefer committed.”
She laughed.
“I suppose that sounds nicer.”
⸻
Over the following week, Adrian appeared again.
And again.
Sometimes outside the library.
Sometimes passing through the courtyard.
Sometimes in the queue at the café.
Westbridge wasn’t a particularly large university town.
Running into the same people wasn’t unusual.
Still…
It was beginning to happen rather often.
“Coffee?”
He lifted an extra takeaway cup one Wednesday afternoon.
Evelyn smiled apologetically.
“Thank you, but I’m meeting my boyfriend.”
The word came naturally.
Boyfriend.
She liked the way it sounded.
Adrian’s smile faltered for the briefest moment.
“You have a boyfriend.”
“I do.”
“He’s a lucky man.”
“I think I’m the lucky one.”
She didn’t hesitate.
Not even for a second.
The certainty in her voice surprised even her.
Adrian nodded slowly.
“I hope he knows that.”
“He does.”
“I hope he deserves it.”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“He does.”
She thanked him again before continuing across the courtyard.
Adrian remained standing where she had left him.
His coffee had gone cold.
⸻
That evening, Daniel found Evelyn waiting outside his department.
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled.
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
“You’ve succeeded.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
It had become one of his favourite ways to greet her.
Gentle.
Protective.
Never rushed.
“I’ve got twenty minutes.”
“That’s all I need.”
They wandered toward the river, sharing a bag of chips from a food cart parked near the bridge.
Daniel looked more relaxed than he had all week.
“I submitted another chapter.”
“How did it go?”
“My supervisor only criticised half of it.”
She gasped dramatically.
“Progress.”
“I celebrated.”
“How?”
“I slept for four hours.”
She laughed so loudly that several students turned to look.
“You have a very strange definition of celebrating.”
“I’ll have a better one once this semester ends.”
He glanced sideways at her.
“I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do.”
“You’ve been patient.”
“I wanted to be.”
“I know.”
“But still.”
He stopped walking.
“When everything settles down…”
He squeezed her hand gently.
“I’m taking you somewhere special.”
“You’ve already shown me Willow Quay.”
“I know.”
“I’ve found somewhere even better.”
“You have?”
“It’s a secret.”
She groaned.
“You and your surprises.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“I probably will.”
⸻
As the days passed, Adrian’s greetings became longer.
His questions became more personal.
He remembered details she’d mentioned in passing.
Her favourite author.
The fact that she disliked olives.
That she always ordered vanilla lattes.
It was strange.
Not unsettling.
Just…
Unexpected.
One Friday afternoon, she stepped out of the library to find him sitting on a nearby bench reading.
He looked up immediately.
“I was hoping I’d run into you.”
She smiled politely.
“I’ve only got a minute.”
“I know.”
He closed the book.
“I just wanted to ask how your presentation went.”
She blinked.
“You remembered?”
“You seemed nervous.”
“It went well.”
“I’m glad.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Adrian spoke again.
“I know you said you have a boyfriend.”
“I do.”
“I respect that.”
She nodded.
“I just hope…”
He hesitated.
“…he appreciates what he has.”
Evelyn smiled.
“He does.”
There wasn’t even the slightest uncertainty in her answer.
Daniel appreciated her.
She knew that.
Even during his busiest days.
Even when deadlines consumed him.
He still found time to call.
Still walked her home.
Still remembered cinnamon buns from The Ink & Bean.
Still looked at her as though she were the best part of every day.
There was never a question in her mind about that.
She wished Adrian well and continued toward the residence halls, believing the conversation had settled everything.
She didn’t know that, for Adrian, it had only confirmed one thing.
She wasn’t unhappy.
She wasn’t looking for someone else.
Which meant…
If he wanted a place in her life, he would have to create one himself.
And Adrian Blackwood had never been afraid of playing the long game.
For a while, Evelyn convinced herself she was imagining it.
Westbridge wasn’t a city.
It was a university town.
People crossed paths.
The same cafés attracted the same customers. The library emptied at the same hour every evening. The quickest route from the History building to the residence halls was one almost every student used.
It made sense that she kept seeing Adrian.
Until it stopped feeling accidental.
⸻
On Monday morning, she arrived at her lecture theatre to find a single white tulip resting on her desk.
There was no name.
Only a folded note.
I hope your presentation goes well today. You’ll be brilliant.
She frowned.
Charlotte leaned over from the next seat.
“Someone has an admirer.”
“It’s probably for someone else.”
“It was on your desk.”
“There are hundreds of students here.”
Charlotte picked up the flower.
“And somehow it landed exactly where you sit?”
Evelyn sighed.
“I’ll throw it away.”
Charlotte studied her.
“You don’t look happy.”
“I’m not.”
“You know who it’s from.”
It wasn’t a question.
Evelyn hesitated.
“I think I do.”
Charlotte waited.
“It’s… someone I’ve spoken to a few times.”
“A classmate?”
“No.”
“So who is he?”
“Someone I met near the library.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted.
“The one with the coffee?”
Evelyn blinked.
“I mentioned him?”
“You said some older graduate kept bumping into you.”
“Oh.”
Charlotte twirled the tulip between her fingers.
“Does Daniel know?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because nothing’s happening.”
Charlotte didn’t look convinced.
“If it stays as flowers, maybe.”
“It will.”
“It needs to.”
Evelyn nodded firmly.
“It will.”
⸻
That afternoon, she found Adrian waiting outside the Humanities Building.
He smiled when he saw her.
“I was beginning to think you’d never come out.”
She looked at the flower still tucked inside one of her books.
“You left that.”
“I did.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I know.”
She folded her arms.
“I have a boyfriend.”
“I remember.”
“Then why?”
“Because wishing someone luck isn’t a crime.”
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“But hoping it means something more is.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Adrian’s smile faded.
“I wasn’t trying to disrespect your relationship.”
“It feels like you are.”
He was silent.
“I like talking to you,” he admitted.
“I know.”
“I’d like to know you better.”
“You can’t.”
“Because of him.”
“Because I love him.”
The words came easily.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
She loved Daniel.
She had known it for weeks, though neither of them had rushed to say the words aloud.
It wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to throw around carelessly.
But she knew it.
Adrian looked away for a moment.
“I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise.”
“I think I do.”
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’ll stop.”
Relief washed over her.
“Thank you.”
As she walked away, she believed the conversation had settled everything.
She didn’t notice Adrian standing perfectly still long after she’d disappeared into the crowd.
⸻
Daniel was waiting for her that evening beside the old clock tower.
The moment he saw her, he reached for her hand.
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
“Fair.”
He laughed.
“I’ve just finished another mock interview.”
“How was it?”
“I accidentally compared leadership to making tea.”
She burst into laughter.
“You did not.”
“I panicked.”
“What was the question?”
“‘Describe your management style.’”
“And your answer was…?”
“‘Well… everyone likes tea.’”
Evelyn laughed so hard she had to stop walking.
“Oh, Daniel.”
“I know.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It really was.”
He smiled as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
“There you are.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“I’ve missed that.”
“What?”
“Making you laugh.”
Her smile softened.
“You still do.”
“Not as much recently.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I know.”
He looked down at their joined hands.
“I keep worrying you’ll think I’ve forgotten about you.”
She stopped walking.
“Daniel.”
He looked at her.
“I’ve never thought that.”
“Not once?”
“Not once.”
“You’ve never doubted me?”
She stepped closer.
“I’ve missed you.”
He nodded.
“So have I.”
“But missing someone…”
She gently squeezed his hand.
“…isn’t the same as doubting them.”
For a moment he simply looked at her.
Then he wrapped his arms around her.
She melted into the embrace without thinking.
Neither of them noticed Adrian standing across the street outside a newsagent’s, having stepped out moments earlier with a newspaper tucked under one arm.
His eyes lingered on them.
Daniel rested his chin lightly against Evelyn’s hair, saying something that made her laugh again.
Adrian looked away first.
Not because it didn’t hurt.
Because it told him exactly what he was up against.
This wasn’t infatuation.
This wasn’t convenience.
She loved him.
Any man with sense would have accepted defeat.
Adrian Blackwood wasn’t that man.
⸻
The following Friday, another note appeared.
This time it wasn’t accompanied by flowers.
Just a neatly folded envelope slipped between the pages of a library book Evelyn had borrowed.
She recognised the handwriting immediately.
I know you asked me to stop.
I’m trying.
But meeting you has made silence much harder than I expected.
She closed the note immediately.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Not excitement.
Not flattery.
Unease.
She walked straight to the library reception.
“I think someone left this in one of the books.”
The librarian glanced at it.
“We’ll dispose of it.”
“Thank you.”
When she stepped back outside, she reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over Daniel’s name.
For a moment, she considered calling him.
Telling him everything.
Then she pictured him sitting in the postgraduate study room, surrounded by dissertation chapters, preparing for the most important examinations of his university life.
She slipped the phone back into her bag.
It’s nothing, she told herself.
He said he’d stop.
There’s no point adding more to Daniel’s worries.
It was the first secret she had ever kept from him.
It seemed so small.
So harmless.
She had no way of knowing that, months later, she would remember that moment more clearly than almost any other.
Because every tragedy begins with a decision that feels too insignificant to matter.
Normal, however, had begun to look different.
Daniel was approaching the final stretch of his degree.
His dissertation had finally been approved for submission, but revision classes, interviews and preparation for final examinations filled almost every hour of his day.
One Tuesday evening, Evelyn waited outside the Faculty of Social Sciences.
The clock above the entrance read quarter past six.
Daniel had said he’d meet her at six.
At twenty-five past, he still hadn’t appeared.
She checked her phone.
No message.
At half past six, she smiled to herself.
“He’s probably forgotten what time it is,” she murmured.
She knew him well enough to imagine exactly what had happened.
He would have sat down to revise one chapter…
Then another.
Then another.
Until time simply disappeared.
Just as she reached for her phone, it began ringing.
Daniel.
“I’m so sorry.”
His voice came before she could even say hello.
“Evelyn…”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I really do.”
“I’ve still got another meeting.”
She could hear the frustration in his voice.
“I completely lost track of time.”
She leaned against the stone wall outside the building.
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is.”
“I promised I’d be there.”
“You wanted to be.”
She smiled softly.
“That’s enough for me.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then Daniel spoke again, much quieter.
“You make forgiving me far too easy.”
“You haven’t done anything to forgive.”
“I keep saying I’ll make more time.”
“You will.”
“I hope so.”
“You always keep your promises.”
She believed that.
Completely.
After they hung up, she began walking back toward the residence halls alone.
She wasn’t angry.
Only disappointed that circumstances seemed determined to steal moments they both wanted.
⸻
Evelyn had just settled beneath one of the old oak trees with a history textbook when a familiar voice interrupted her concentration.
“May I?”
She looked up.
Adrian stood a respectful distance away.
“No flowers,” he said before she could speak.
“No notes.”
“I meant what I said.”
She hesitated before nodding toward the empty space on the grass opposite her.
“You can sit.”
“Only for a minute.”
He lowered himself onto the grass, leaving enough space between them that she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
“I owe you an apology.”
“You already apologised.”
“Not properly.”
He clasped his hands together.
“I’ve spent most of my life believing persistence solved everything.”
Evelyn listened quietly.
“It usually has.”
He smiled faintly.
“But I realised I’d mistaken persistence for respect.”
She appreciated the honesty.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t want to be someone who makes you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t.”
“Not anymore?”
She considered the question.
“I think you’re beginning to understand my boundaries.”
He nodded slowly.
“I’d like to.”
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Students laughed nearby.
Someone played an acoustic guitar beneath another tree.
The peaceful afternoon almost made the conversation feel ordinary.
Then Adrian asked quietly,
“Is he good to you?”
Evelyn looked up.
“Very.”
“He makes you happy?”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“More than anyone ever has.”
Adrian lowered his eyes.
“I thought that might be your answer.”
She closed her textbook.
“Then why keep asking?”
He gave a sad smile.
“Hope doesn’t disappear just because reality arrives.”
“I really am sorry,” Evelyn said gently.
“You don’t owe me your feelings.”
“I know.”
He stood.
“But thank you for your honesty.”
As he walked away, Evelyn watched him disappear between the trees.
⸻
That evening, Daniel appeared outside her residence just after eight.
This time he carried no books.
No laptop.
No notes.
Only a paper bag from The Ink & Bean.
“You escaped,” Evelyn said with a smile.
“Barely.”
He lifted the bag triumphantly.
“I brought peace offerings.”
“Cinnamon buns?”
“And hot chocolate.”
“You remembered.”
“I always remember.”
They settled onto the same wooden bench where they had spent countless evenings together.
For the first time in weeks, Daniel looked relaxed.
“I handed in my final dissertation draft.”
Evelyn’s face lit up.
“You did?”
“I did.”
She threw her arms around him without thinking.
“I’m so proud of you.”
He hugged her tightly.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You absolutely could have.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled against her hair.
“But it would’ve been much lonelier.”
When they pulled apart, he reached into his coat pocket.
“I’ve got something.”
“What is it?”
“A promise.”
He unfolded a small piece of paper.
On it, in Daniel’s neat handwriting, were three dates.
“The first Saturday after my final exam.”
“The day after graduation.”
“And one week later.”
Evelyn looked at him curiously.
“What are these?”
“The days that belong to us.”
She blinked.
“No studying.”
“No interviews.”
“No interruptions.”
He smiled.
“I’ve already planned all three.”
Emotion caught unexpectedly in her throat.
“You planned all this?”
“I told you.”
- Writer
