Julian didn't call for three days.
Not because he didn't want to — but because something had changed. Evelyn sensed it, the way a musician senses a note slightly out of tune. His messages were shorter, his calls delayed, his voice quieter.
On the fourth day, she sat in the conservatory after class, her fingers hovering above the piano keys but not pressing down. The melody she was supposed to play felt hollow now.
Clara noticed.
"Hey," she said softly, sliding into the seat beside her. "You haven't been yourself. Trouble with the mystery man?"
Evelyn smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Maybe. He's… distant. I don't know why. Everything was fine after the museum. But since then…"
Clara leaned in, chin resting on her palm. "Maybe it's work? Or…" She paused dramatically. "…his ex?"
Evelyn looked up sharply. "Why would you say that?"
"Because, honey, exes have a weird talent for showing up when they're least welcome."
Evelyn didn't respond, but Clara's words lingered in her mind.
–––
Meanwhile, Julian sat in his office, staring at a message he hadn't sent. "I need to tell you something." He'd typed it and deleted it a dozen times.
The truth? His ex, Lena, had resurfaced.
Not in a romantic way — at least not yet — but with a purpose. She had joined a client's team for an art collaboration with his company. Every meeting meant facing her again. The woman who once broke his heart, who still knew how to read him too easily.
And Evelyn… she didn't know.
–––
The next evening, Evelyn received a call. His name lit up her screen. Her heart jumped — half relief, half worry.
"Hey," she answered.
"Hey, love," Julian's voice was warm but tired. "Sorry I've been quiet. It's been… complicated at work."
"Complicated how?" she asked softly.
He hesitated. "Just… old things resurfacing. I'll tell you soon. Promise."
She didn't push. She wanted to trust him. But something in his tone made her uneasy.
–––
Later, Clara and Evelyn sat at a café. Clara stirred her latte, glancing up with that knowing smile.
"So, I've been seeing someone too."
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? Who?"
Clara's cheeks pinkened. "This guy—Lucas. Met him at the art store last week. He accidentally paid for my sketchbook because the cashier messed up. He found me later to return the money, and, well… he hasn't stopped texting me since."
Evelyn grinned, momentarily forgetting her worries. "That sounds like a movie scene."
"It feels like one," Clara admitted. "He's weird but sweet. You'd like him."
–––
But as Evelyn walked home, she checked her phone again. Still no text from Julian.
And across the city, Julian sat across from Lena in a dimly lit restaurant — a business dinner that felt like something more dangerous.
Lena leaned forward, her voice smooth. "You look tired, Julian. Is it work… or something else?"
He looked at her, the ghost of the past flickering in her eyes.
Before he could answer, his phone buzzed.
Evelyn's name.
He stared at the screen — and pressed ignore.
–––
Julian's thumb hovered over the glowing screen — Evelyn's name pulsing softly like a heartbeat — before he let it dim.
Lena watched him with a half-smile, swirling her wine lazily.
"Still ignoring calls at dinner, I see," she teased.
He didn't answer. His jaw tightened.
"It's not like that," he said finally, his voice low.
She tilted her head. "Oh, I'm sure it isn't. You were always good at convincing yourself of that."
Julian exhaled through his nose, staring at the city lights beyond the glass window. The restaurant was quiet except for the soft jazz playing in the background. The same kind of place where, years ago, he and Lena had made promises they couldn't keep.
He cleared his throat. "Let's keep this professional, Lena."
"Professional?" she laughed quietly. "Julian, we dated for three years. You can't just file that under business relations."
He looked at her then — really looked — and realized how much time had passed. She was the same and yet utterly different: poised, calculating, with that same dangerous calm that once drew him in.
And for the first time since meeting Evelyn, he felt old wounds stir beneath his ribs.
–––
Meanwhile, Evelyn sat on her bed, her phone still in her hand. The call had gone unanswered. Twice.
She replayed their last conversation in her mind. "It's been complicated at work." The words had sounded honest… but vague.
Her thoughts tangled like sheet music left in the rain.
Finally, she opened their chat.
> Evelyn: Are you okay? You've been distant.
Evelyn: If you're busy, I understand. Just… don't disappear like this.
She hit send, stared at the screen, then set the phone down.
Her violin case sat in the corner, half-open, the strings catching the moonlight from the window. She stood, walked over, and lifted it gently. Maybe, she thought, if she played something — anything — she could drown out the ache building in her chest.
The first note filled the room, soft and trembling.
–––
Two days later.
Clara burst into Evelyn's room with an excited grin. "Okay, first — Lucas and I are officially going out tonight. Second — you, my darling, need to stop brooding and come with us. Lucas has a friend. He's cute. You'll like him."
Evelyn sighed. "Clara, I'm not in the mood to meet anyone—"
"Exactly why you should come!" Clara declared, hands on her hips. "If you keep sitting here playing tragic concertos, you'll drown in your own romantic misery."
Evelyn chuckled softly, shaking her head as she set her violin back into its velvet-lined case.
"Clara, you're impossible," she said, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Impossible, yes. But also right." Clara plopped onto Evelyn's bed, hugging a pillow dramatically. "Look, you've been glowing ever since that Julian guy came along, but lately, you've been dimmer than my phone battery. Come out with us. Fresh air, laughter, food — it'll help."
Evelyn hesitated. "I don't want to be a third wheel."
Clara waved a hand dismissively. "You won't be. Lucas's friend, Noah, just came back from studying art in Florence. He's charming. Maybe too charming, honestly."
Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "Fine. But if it's awkward, I'm leaving early."
"Deal." Clara grinned triumphantly.
–––
The café Clara picked was a cozy, dimly lit place tucked between an art gallery and a florist. Warm amber lights glowed against the dark wood interior, and the faint sound of a cello played through the speakers.
Evelyn arrived wearing a soft cream sweater and a pleated skirt, her hair loosely tied. She didn't dress to impress — she dressed like herself. Yet as she stepped inside, heads turned, her quiet elegance impossible to ignore.
Lucas waved her over. Beside him sat a man with tousled brown hair and a sketchbook resting near his elbow. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
"You must be Evelyn," he said, standing to shake her hand. "I'm Noah."
"Nice to meet you," she replied politely, taking her seat.
Clara, ever the matchmaker, clapped her hands. "Perfect! Now that everyone's here, we can order. Noah, you have to show Evelyn your sketches — he's amazing."
Noah blushed slightly, flipping open the book. Inside were delicate charcoal drawings — cityscapes, portraits, even a few of concert halls. Evelyn's eyes widened when she recognized one.
"This is the Royal Hall," she said. "You've been there?"
He nodded. "Once, last winter. There was this incredible pianist. I didn't catch her name, but she was…" He paused, smiling faintly. "Unforgettable."
Evelyn froze for a second, her heart fluttering. She had performed there that winter.
Before she could respond, Clara caught sight of someone near the entrance and nearly dropped her drink. "Wait— is that…?"
Evelyn turned her head — and her breath caught.
Standing by the door, tall and tense, was Julian. His sharp gaze scanned the café — until it landed on her.
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the room fell silent.
Julian's expression flickered — shock, then something deeper. He hesitated, his jaw tightening, before he started walking toward their table.
Noah followed Evelyn's gaze, confused. "Do you… know him?"
Evelyn's fingers tightened around her cup.
"Yes," she whispered. "I do."
–––
When Julian reached the table, Clara could practically feel the air grow heavy. He looked at Noah, then at Evelyn, his eyes unreadable.
"Evelyn," he said quietly, his tone calm — too calm. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Neither did I," she replied, her voice steady though her pulse raced.
Clara, sensing the tension, cleared her throat awkwardly. "Um, Julian, right? Maybe you'd like to join—"
"No," Julian said quickly, forcing a polite smile. "I was just passing by."
He turned to leave, but Evelyn stood up. "Julian, wait—"
Their eyes locked again. Something unspoken lingered — guilt, confusion, longing.
Noah sat silently, watching, realization dawning. Clara bit her lip, unsure what to say.
Julian's phone buzzed — Lena's name flashing on the screen. Evelyn saw it.
And that was the moment something inside her shifted.
Her voice softened, but there was distance now. "You should go. You have someone waiting."
Julian's expression faltered. "Evelyn, it's not—"
But she was already turning away. "Good night, Julian."
He stood there for a moment, silent, then left.
As the door closed behind him, Evelyn sat back down, her heart aching yet strangely calm.
Noah looked at her gently. "You don't have to explain," he said softly. "But… if you ever want to talk, I listen better than I draw."
Evelyn smiled faintly, grateful yet lost in thought.
Outside, Julian stood in the rain, the sound of the café door echoing behind him — the music, her voice, and his own regret mingling in the cold night air.
The café lights blurred into soft amber streaks as Evelyn walked home through the misty streets, her umbrella useless against the drizzle. The sound of her boots against the wet pavement echoed faintly — rhythmic, almost like the ticking of a clock reminding her of every unspoken word between her and Julian.
Clara walked beside her, unusually quiet. Normally she'd chatter, tease, or hum under her breath, but tonight she simply held her coat tighter. Finally, she spoke.
"Evelyn… are you okay?"
Evelyn gave a small nod, though her eyes were far away. "I thought I was," she murmured. "Until I saw him."
Clara hesitated, glancing sideways. "That was the Julian, wasn't it? The soldier?"
"Yes." Evelyn's voice cracked faintly. "The one I told you about. The one I wasn't supposed to fall in love with."
Clara sighed, looping her arm through hers. "You don't get to choose who you fall for, Evie. But maybe fate decided to remind you tonight that you're still human."
Evelyn smiled sadly at that. "Or maybe it's reminding me that timing never seems to be on my side."
–––
That same night, Julian sat in his car a few streets away from the café. The rain pattered against the windshield in steady rhythm, blurring the city lights into soft halos. His hands were still gripping the steering wheel, knuckles pale.
He hadn't meant to see her. He had just finished a briefing at headquarters nearby and stopped for coffee. But then… there she was — sitting across from another man, laughing, radiant, everything he had missed.
Lena's call buzzed again on his phone. He ignored it.
He leaned back, closing his eyes, memories flooding him — the way Evelyn's fingers moved across the piano keys, how she looked when she smiled, the sound of her laughter echoing in his chest.
But what right did he have anymore?
They had both chosen their paths — hers filled with music and light, his with duty and silence.
And yet, seeing her again felt like the world had tilted.
–––
Back in Evelyn's apartment, Clara sprawled across the couch with a blanket, refusing to go home until Evelyn "stopped looking like a tragic heroine."
Evelyn sat by the window, brushing her damp hair dry, lost in thought.
Clara's phone buzzed — a message from Lucas — but she ignored it for once. "So," she said softly, "what happens now?"
Evelyn looked out at the city lights reflecting on the rain-soaked streets. "I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."
Clara tilted her head. "Do you still love him?"
There was a long pause. Evelyn exhaled slowly, eyes glistening. "It's not something you can just stop doing."
Clara frowned gently, then, with a small smile, tried to lighten the mood. "Well, if he shows up again, you can at least make him work for it this time. No easy forgiveness."
Evelyn chuckled softly. "No easy anything, I suppose."
–––
Across town, Julian finally answered Lena's call.
Her voice came through sharp and cold. "You ignored me again. I was waiting."
"I know," Julian said quietly.
There was silence on the line, then: "You saw her, didn't you?"
He didn't answer, but the silence was answer enough.
"Julian," she said bitterly, "you can't keep doing this to yourself — or to me."
He closed his eyes. "You're right."
Then he ended the call.
The city stretched before him — endless streets of light and noise — but all he could think of was the sound of her name, the piano, and the feeling that somewhere in the same city, Evelyn Hart was awake, remembering him too.
–––
Tbc