Her heart starts to beat faster—not out of panic, but a flicker of something unfamiliar lately.
Hope.
Grace blinks rapidly, still lying in bed, convinced she's misheard.
"Wait… what?" she murmurs. "I already quit the school."
But the bright voice on the other end doesn't miss a beat. "Yes, Miss Silver, you did submit the withdrawal. But the full tuition for this academic year has now been paid—so you're welcome to return. Your name is back on the roster."
Grace bolts upright. "It's… paid? No, that's impossible. I didn't pay it. Is this some sort of system error?"
The woman on the line chuckles lightly. "No error, I assure you. An anonymous donor covered the full amount on your behalf."
Grace's mouth falls open.
"...What?!!"
The disbelief crashes over her in waves, but beneath it all is a spark of overwhelming joy—sharp, warm, and sudden. Her heart beats faster, filling her chest with something she hasn't felt in a while: light.
"I—I don't even know what to say," she stammers. "Thank you so much. I'll head to class right away."
"Yes, please hurry. Your major course begins soon—room 403, building 101," the woman says cheerfully, and then the line clicks off.
Grace sits there, staring at the phone like it might explain itself.
An unknown donor? But who…? How?
She presses a hand to her heart, still trying to process it, then slowly looks up at the ceiling. A smile starts at the corners of her lips—then spreads wide across her entire face.
"Hurray!!!" she shouts, throwing the blanket off and leaping out of bed. "Lord, thank you for saving me! Please bless whoever did this—bless them in every way!"
Her laughter bounces off the walls as she rushes into the bathroom, her feet barely touching the floor.
She turns on the water with one hand and grabs a towel with the other, already picturing herself back on campus—books in hand, walking into that classroom like she never left.
As the steam begins to rise, Grace can't help but whisper again, almost to herself:
"Thank you… whoever you are."
In a quiet, ivory-toned office nestled on the third floor of the Humanities building, Julian sits behind a wide oak desk, a fresh cup of coffee steaming softly in his hand. The room is calm, elegant in its simplicity—books lined in perfect symmetry, soft sunlight pouring through sheer curtains, and the faint ticking of a vintage clock on the far wall.
The windows are open, letting in the early summer breeze that carries the scent of trees and fresh-cut grass. It ruffles his dark hair gently, the warmth brushing across his skin like a subtle whisper.
He wears a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His eyes, thoughtful and steady, gaze out across the campus.
The quad is already alive with motion—students weaving through pathways, backpacks bouncing, laughter echoing faintly in the distance. The green of the trees sways in rhythm with the breeze. There's life everywhere.
Julian lifts his coffee again, savoring a slow sip.
Grace Silver is going to walk through this campus again... today.
He says nothing aloud, but a small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips.
His eyes narrow slightly as a memory slips into focus—a vivid image from just yesterday.
Returning from a confidential mission as an agent of the Human Rescuing Society, Julian made his way to the university's administration office. He had come to collect the list of newly registered students for his upcoming course, set to begin in the second week of August.
That's when he saw her.
A familiar figure rushed up the stairs, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
Grace Silver...?
Julian recognized her instantly. But she didn't notice him—her head was down, her steps hurried and heavy with emotion.
He stood still for a moment, watching her disappear up the steps. Then, a few moments later, he followed, walking across the lobby toward the admin desk on the far right side.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But as he approached, he caught her voice—quiet, composed, but undeniably sad.
"Hello. I'm here to inform that I'm withdrawing from the master's program," she said to the office staff member.
Julian froze.
She's quitting? So she's a graduate student here…
He stood just far enough to go unnoticed, but close enough to see her hands trembling as she took the form and began to fill it out. He tried to turn his gaze away—it's her business, he reminded himself—but then he saw it.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it quickly, trying to stay composed, but Julian had already seen it. And in that moment, something shifted.
What could drive her to leave if it hurts her this much? he wondered, unable to take his eyes off her.
She signed the form in silence and handed it back to the woman at the desk.
"Thank you. Well, have a great day," the staff member said gently.
"You too. Have a great day." Grace's voice was quick, trying to sound normal, but her eyes were red, her steps rushed as she disappeared back down the hallway.
Julian stood still, watching her figure fade into the campus beyond the glass doors.
"Professor?"
A voice pulled him back to the present. One of the office staff had approached him from the side.
"Yes," Julian replied, straightening slightly.
"Here's the list you requested," the man said, handing over a file.
"Thanks…" Julian replied absently. He took the paper but didn't walk away. Instead, he stepped over to the same counter where Grace had stood only moments before.
"Hello," he said to the woman who had spoken with Grace.
"Hello, Professor Lenter. Can I help you with something else?" she asked politely.
"I know it's not really my place," Julian began, his tone even, "but the student who just left—why did she withdraw from the program?"
The woman gave a brief glance toward the form still resting on her desk. "It says financial issues," she said simply. "That's all she wrote."
"I see…" Julian gave a small nod and turned to leave, but something inside him felt unsettled.
He walked out of the administration office slowly, his mind full. He could still see the tears on her face. The way she tried to keep it together. The way she rushed out like she didn't want anyone to see her break.
What is her situation—truly? Why did she have to leave the school like that, with tears streaking silently down her cheeks, as if the weight of something unseen was pressing too hard on her chest? Could it be just money?
That thought gnawed at Julian.
If that was it… well, he could help. He had the means. A gesture, a quiet transfer, no questions asked. It wouldn't even dent his account.
But then, as quickly as the thought came, he recoiled.
Julian shook his head, pushing the idea away like a foolish dream.
"No," he muttered to himself, almost under his breath. "I'm going too far."
What do I even know about her?
But her tears stayed with him.
The next morning, on the first day of the semester, Julian arrived early at his office. The ivory-colored room was quiet as usual, filled with the aroma of ground beans as he prepared his morning coffee by hand with his drip machine. But even as the warm steam rose and the rich scent filled the air, his thoughts returned—again and again—to Grace.
Her name. Her voice. Her tears.
He couldn't shake it.
Setting his mug aside, Julian reached for the office phone and dialed the administration office.
"Hello," he said calmly when someone picked up, "I'd like to make an anonymous tuition payment for a graduate student named Grace Silver."
So that's how he ends up helping Grace return to school—quietly, behind the scenes, without ever letting her know.
Taking a slow sip of coffee, Julian quietly gazes out across the campus through the open window. The breeze is warm, the trees sway gently, and students move along the paths in a rhythm he's always found calming. But today, his eyes linger, as if he's waiting to catch sight of one person.
She's probably overjoyed right now...
He imagines her walking through the gates, her smile wide and unguarded, the kind of smile that comes from hope being restored. The image brings a faint smile to his own lips.
Her face comes to his mind too easily now.
She looks so much like Hannah…
That thought stirs something deep in him. Familiar, but complicated.
Julian quickly shakes his head, almost frustrated with himself. Too much thinking. With a swift motion, he reaches for the cord and pulls the window blinds closed, shutting out the sun—and, hopefully, the thoughts that come with it.
He returns to his chair, sits down, and opens the document on his screen, ready to focus on work.
But as his fingers hover above the keyboard, his mind is still elsewhere.
Still with her.
Still with Grace.