Refusing the Distance
1057 Words
Anna tried to pretend that the library hadn’t happened.
The chamomile tea, the look in Harry’s eyes, the undeniable shift in the weight of her visions—she shoved it all into the deepest corner of her mind and buried it under layers of denial. It was safer that way.
Or at least, she thought it was.
Because Harry had no intention of letting her slip away again.
***
The first sign came in the morning. Anna arrived in her psychology lecture early, hoping to hide in the back row as usual. But when she walked in, Harry was already there, sitting right in the middle of the row. The only empty seat beside him was glaringly obvious.
Her chest tightened. He must have come early just to do this.
She hesitated at the aisle, her heart pounding. Other students streamed in behind her, filling the seats quickly. She had a choice: sit beside him or risk drawing attention by turning away.
“Good morning, Anna,” Harry said, his voice casual but carrying a hint of challenge.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Reluctantly, she slid into the seat.
Throughout the lecture, she tried to focus on the professor’s words, but Harry’s presence burned at the edge of her awareness. He leaned over once, murmuring a comment about the lecture that made her bite her lip to keep from smiling. Another time, his pen slipped, and their hands brushed as they both reached for it.
Every tiny moment chipped away at her resolve.
***
By lunchtime, Anna thought she could escape. She slipped into the dining hall, tray in hand, scanning for a quiet corner.
But there he was again—already seated at a table near the center, waving her over as if they’d planned it.
Anna froze. A few people turned to look, curious. She felt her throat tighten. If she refused, it would be public. Obvious.
And Harry knew it.
She forced herself to walk over, setting her tray down across from him. “This isn’t fair,” she muttered.
Harry’s smile was maddeningly calm. “Fairness is relative. I’m just choosing not to hide.”
Anna stabbed at her salad, avoiding his gaze. “You’re making this harder.”
“Or easier,” he countered smoothly. “Depends on how you look at it.”
She risked a glance at him. He wasn’t mocking her, not really. He was steady, patient. But his persistence made her chest ache in ways she couldn’t ignore.
***
Over the next few days, his strategy became clear. Wherever Anna tried to create space, Harry was already there.
When she lingered in the library after class, he appeared beside her with a stack of books, asking for her opinion on a passage he’d “just happened” to find.
When she went to the campus café, he intercepted her order, handing her a tea instead of coffee with a knowing look that made her heart stutter.
When she tried to sit outside under the oak tree with her sketchbook, he showed up with his own notebook, claiming it was his favorite spot too.
At first, Anna burned with frustration. “You can’t just… force yourself into my life,” she hissed one afternoon as he slid into the seat across from her in the student lounge.
Harry leaned back, utterly unbothered. “I’m not forcing anything. I’m showing you that we can make different choices than the ones you’re afraid of.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “Because I’m choosing it, right here, right now.”
His certainty rattled her.
***
One evening, Anna returned to her dorm to find a folded note slipped under her door. Her heart skipped as she opened it.
You said the future always comes true. Prove it. Meet me tomorrow by the fountain at noon. If you really believe fate can’t change, then don’t come. That’s your choice. —Harry
Her hands shook. It was a trap, and she knew it. If she didn’t go, it would feel like a rejection—not just of him, but of herself. If she did go, she’d be playing straight into his hands.
She barely slept that night.
***
The next day, she told herself a dozen times that she wouldn’t go. That she’d stay in her dorm, that she’d keep her distance.
But when the clock struck noon, Anna found herself walking across the campus green, her feet moving before her brain could stop them.
Harry was waiting at the fountain, leaning against the stone rim. The sunlight glinted off his hair, and his smile widened when he saw her.
“You came.”
Anna crossed her arms. “Don’t look so smug.”
“I’m not smug,” he said, pushing off the fountain and stepping closer. “I’m relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“That you’re finally starting to see it. The future isn’t a prison. You made a choice today. Your choice. Not your vision’s.”
Her breath caught. The way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—made the ground tilt beneath her feet.
“I’m still scared,” she whispered.
“I know.” His voice softened. “But fear doesn’t get the final say. We do.”
The words sank deep, and for a moment, Anna felt her defenses crumbling.
But then, unbidden, a vision flashed behind her eyes: the fountain, empty, the water still and cold. Her hands outstretched, grasping for someone who was no longer there.
Her knees weakened. She stepped back, clutching her chest.
Harry reached for her, but she shook her head violently. “Not here. Not now.”
His face tightened with concern, but he didn’t push. Instead, he simply nodded. “Then I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
Anna turned and fled, her heart pounding with equal parts terror and longing.
***
That night, lying in bed, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fountain, about his words, about how different everything felt when she chose to go.
Her visions told her ruin was inevitable. But Harry’s persistence was forcing her to ask the question she’d never dared:
What if she wasn’t trapped?
What if love could be stronger than destiny?
- Writer
