As usual, the next day was completed.
Emily liked the quiet parts of the day.
The moments between classes. The walk back to the girls' hostel when the sun dipped low, and the air cooled. Those were the times when thoughts surfaced.
She spotted Evan near the library steps.
He stood alone, phone in hand, staring at the screen without typing.
"Hey," she said.
He looked up, surprised. "Hey."
They fell into step together without discussion.
"You skipped lunch," Emily said.
"I wasn't hungry," Evan replied.
"You always say that when you forget," Emily said.
Evan shrugged. "I forgot."
They walked in silence for a bit.
Emily broke it. "Luke says you've been spacing out."
"He exaggerates," Evan replied quickly.
"Marcus noticed too," Emily said.
Evan slowed. "Marcus notices everything."
She stopped walking.
Evan stopped with her.
"You don't have to explain," Emily said gently. "I just want to know if you're okay."
There it was. The question he avoided.
"I'm okay," he said.
Emily searched his face. "You say that like it's a conclusion."
Evan looked away, toward the trees lining the path. Leaves rustled softly.
"I don't like causing problems," he said finally.
Emily blinked. "You don't."
"I mean… by acting," Evan said.
She frowned. "Evan, what does that even mean?"
He struggled for words. He rarely did. Logic was easier than feelings.
"Sometimes," he said slowly, "doing something feels worse than doing nothing. Because if I act and something goes wrong, that's on me."
Emily watched him. "And if you don't act?"
"Then it's just… how things are," Evan said.
"That's not fair," she said.
"To whom?" Evan asked.
"To you," Emily replied.
Evan smiled faintly. "I'm fine with it."
Emily wasn't.
They resumed walking.
At the girls' hostel gate, she stopped. "You know you can talk to me."
"I know," Evan said.
"But you don't," Emily said.
He hesitated. Just a little. "I don't want to put things on you."
Emily felt something twist in her chest. "You wouldn't."
They stood there, words hanging between them.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Evan said.
She nodded. "Tomorrow."
He walked away.
Emily watched until he disappeared around the corner.
That night, Evan sat with Noah and Marcus in the unfinished structure on the plot they had bought months ago.
The building was barely more than concrete walls and a roof. No doors. No windows. Just space. Privacy.
Luke arrived late, carrying snacks. Emily came last.
"This place still smells like cement," Luke complained.
"That means no one listens in," Marcus said.
They talked about nothing important. A shared joke. A small argument. The comfort of familiarity.
At one point, the conversation died.
Silence settled.
Evan felt it pressing in.
"I used to think," he said suddenly, "that the safest way to live was to avoid extremes."
All eyes turned to him.
Luke raised an eyebrow. "That's deep. Did you hit your head?"
"I'm serious," Evan said.
Noah leaned forward slightly.
"I thought," Evan continued, "if I stay average, if I don't push, if I don't interfere, nothing bad can be traced back to me."
Marcus asked quietly, "And now?"
Evan shook his head. "I don't know."
Emily watched him closely.
Luke tried to lighten the mood. "Well, whatever happens, we're rich enough to mess up at least a little."
They laughed.
Evan laughed too.
But later, lying in bed, the laughter felt distant.
He dreamed of standing in a crowd, watching something terrible unfold.
In the dream, he knew he could step forward.
He didn't.
He woke up with his heart racing.
The room was dark.
The fan turned overhead.
Normal.
Evan lay back down.
And told himself it was nothing.