CHAPTER THREE (A)
1263 Words
MIDNIGHT CONVERSATIONS
The first message arrived before Evelyn had even reached her flat.
She had barely kicked off her shoes when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her coat.
Daniel
I said I’d text you.
She smiled before she even opened it.
There was something unexpectedly reassuring about a man who did exactly what he said he would do.
She typed back almost immediately.
You kept your promise.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then appeared again.
She watched them with ridiculous anticipation.
I try to.
She laughed quietly.
It was such a simple response, yet somehow it told her more about him than any grand declaration could have.
⸻
That evening, rain settled over Westbridge like a grey blanket.
Tiny droplets tapped against the kitchen window while Evelyn attempted to organize the mountain of papers she’d collected during enrollment.
Admission forms.
Registration documents.
Library paperwork.
Accommodation contracts.
Her room looked as though an office had exploded inside it.
Her phone buzzed again.
Daniel
“How many offices did they send you to today?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically before replying.
“Enough to qualify for an honorary degree in walking.”
His reply came almost instantly.
“Congratulations. I’ll be the first to attend your graduation.”
She laughed out loud.
Her flatmate, Charlotte, looked up from the sofa.
“What?”
Evelyn quickly shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s just someone being funny.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow but returned to her book.
Evelyn looked back down at her phone.
She had known Daniel for less than two weeks.
How had talking to him already become the easiest part of her day?
Over the next several days, texting became routine.
Not planned.
Not expected.
It simply happened.
Daniel sent good morning messages that never felt forced.
He asked how her classes were going.
He remembered details she’d mentioned in passing.
When she complained about getting lost on campus, he replied with a hand-drawn map he’d sketched during a lecture.
It wasn’t accurate.
She still got lost.
But she kept the picture anyway.
One evening she mentioned she had an early history seminar.
The following morning, before her alarm had even finished ringing, another message appeared.
“Good luck today. Don’t let history defeat you.”
She found herself smiling before she’d even gotten out of bed.
⸻
Friday evening arrived with crisp autumn air.
Daniel’s fellowship meeting began at seven.
She still had the invitation card tucked inside one of her notebooks.
She stared at it for several minutes.
Should she go?
What if it looked as though she were only attending because of him?
What if he thought she was interested?
The thought made her cheeks warm.
Was she?
She wasn’t sure.
All she knew was that she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the print shop.
After changing outfits twice, she finally settled on a cream jumper and dark jeans.
Simple.
Comfortable.
Not as though she’d spent twenty minutes deciding.
The university chapel stood near the centre of campus, its stone walls glowing softly beneath old lanterns.
Music floated through the open doors.
Students greeted one another with easy smiles.
Evelyn hesitated outside.
Then someone called her name.
“Evelyn.”
She turned.
Daniel was already walking toward her.
For a second, genuine surprise crossed his face.
“You came.”
“I did.”
“I’m glad.”
The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
“I almost didn’t.”
“I’m glad you changed your mind.”
He held the chapel door open for her.
“Come on.”
⸻
The service was unlike anything she’d expected.
There was music.
Laughter.
Students talking long after the meeting had ended.
It felt less like an event and more like a family.
Daniel introduced her to everyone as though she’d belonged there for years.
“This is Evelyn.”
No explanations.
No awkwardness.
Simply…
Evelyn.
By the end of the evening she knew half a dozen new names she would inevitably forget.
As they walked across campus afterward, leaves crunched beneath their shoes.
“So,” Daniel said.
“What did you think?”
“I liked it.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m just surprised.”
“By what?”
“Everyone actually seemed… happy.”
He laughed.
“We usually are.”
She glanced at him.
“You really love this place, don’t you?”
“I do.”
He looked toward the chapel.
“It gave me a family when university felt lonely.”
The words lingered with her.
She understood loneliness.
Perhaps more than she admitted.
⸻
When they reached her residence hall, neither of them seemed eager to end the conversation.
Daniel shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.
“I should let you go.”
“You probably should.”
Neither moved.
He smiled first.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Were you really hiding from me in that print shop?”
She burst into laughter.
“I knew you weren’t going to let that go.”
“I’ve been wondering all week.”
She sighed dramatically.
“…Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I saw you coming.”
“And?”
“I panicked.”
“Why?”
She looked down at the pavement.
“I don’t know.”
“You thought I was strange?”
“No.”
“So…”
She laughed softly.
“I remembered you.”
Daniel’s smile faded into something gentler.
“You remembered me?”
“Yes.”
“I hoped you did.”
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment, the entire campus seemed to disappear.
The passing students.
The autumn wind.
The distant sound of music.
None of it existed.
Only the quiet understanding that neither of them had been looking for this…
…yet both were quietly happy they had found it.
⸻
That night, Evelyn lay awake staring at the ceiling.
At exactly 11:47 p.m., her phone rang.
Daniel.
She hesitated only long enough to smooth her hair, as though he could somehow see her through the screen.
Then she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
His voice sounded lower than it did in person.
Warmer.
“I hope I’m not waking you.”
She smiled into the darkness.
“No.”
“I wasn’t sure whether calling was too forward.”
“I think if I was hiding from you before, calling makes us even.”
He laughed.
“So we’re even now?”
“I suppose.”
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Neither felt the need to rush it.
Finally, Daniel spoke.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“The day we met…”
“The one at the university gate?”
“Yes.”
“I noticed you before you noticed me.”
Evelyn’s heartbeat slowed.
“I remember thinking…”
He paused.
“…I really hope I see that girl again.”
She closed her eyes.
Outside, rain tapped gently against the window.
Inside, neither of them realized they were beginning the first of many conversations that would stretch long past midnight.
Some nights they would talk about childhood memories.
Some nights about dreams.
Some nights about nothing at all.
Years later, Evelyn would struggle to remember every word they had spoken.
But she would always remember how those conversations made her feel.
Safe.
As though someone had finally found her in a world where she’d always felt slightly invisible.
- Writer
