Chapter 4: Nightfall

Five o’clock in the afternoon marked the edge of dinner for most people and the end of the last class of the day. In the cafeteria, every serving window was backed up with long, winding lines, bodies packed so tightly together that it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began. The air was thick with steam, oil, and impatience.

Behind the glass, Noah wore a mask and moved on instinct, hands working automatically as he took orders and passed out trays to students whose hunger had sharpened their tempers. Dinner rush was always the worst. Breakfast and lunch were bad enough, but evenings drained him the fastest. Ninety minutes straight, no breaks, no chance to sit, barely time to breathe.

By the time the line finally began to thin, his legs ached so badly they felt hollow, and his hands trembled every time he reached for a utensil. The familiar fatigue settled into his shoulders, heavy and inescapable.

Another few minutes passed. There were almost no customers left now. Noah glanced at the clock mounted above the counter. Twenty minutes until his shift officially ended. That meant he still had to stand there, even if no one came.

Movement near the entrance caught his eye.

He noticed them instantly. Lila walked in with her closest friend, Maya, the two of them leaning close together as they talked. Maya was smiling, animated, clearly mid-story. Lila, by contrast, looked subdued, her expression flat in a way that didn’t match her companion’s energy.

Noah knew that even with the mask on, she would recognize him the moment their eyes met.

Maya followed his gaze, then glanced between the two of them. A small, knowing smile crossed her face. She murmured something to Lila, gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and waved casually before heading off toward a different food counter, leaving them alone.

They stood facing each other in silence.

Lila stepped up to the window, her eyes sharp with resentment, brows drawn together as she stared at him. Noah met her gaze without speaking.

She was waiting. He knew that much. Waiting for him to apologize, to soften, to say something that would let her step back into the familiar rhythm where he always gave in first. That was how every argument had ended before.

Seconds passed.

Then Noah spoke, and the words he chose did nothing to soothe the tension.

“Next,” he said evenly. “What would you like?”

Lila’s eyes widened. “You’re really not going to apologize?”

“Lila,” Noah said, his voice low, careful. “We already broke up. Do you want something to eat?”

She stared at him as if she were seeing a stranger. In the past, this was the moment when he would already be coaxing her, smoothing things over, bending himself into whatever shape was required. That he wasn’t doing it now left her visibly shaken.

Fine. Fine, Noah. You said it yourself.

The irritation Maya had just barely helped calm flared back to life. Lila shot him one last furious look, then turned on her heel and walked to the neighboring window to order her food.

No more customers came.

Lila and Maya found a table and sat down with their late dinner. They talked and laughed quietly, but every so often, Lila’s eyes flicked toward Noah’s station, lingering longer than she probably meant them to.

Noah didn’t look back. There was no point. He focused instead on what came next. Going back to the dorm. Taking a shower. Changing clothes. Deciding what to wear when he went out with his sister.

He remembered the countless times he’d sent Lila a good-night message. Most nights, there was no reply at all. On the rare occasions she did respond, it was with a single word. “Okay.” “Mm.” “Fine.”

Once, after sending the message and setting his phone aside out of habit, the screen lit up unexpectedly with a string of replies.

“Why are you suddenly saying good night to your sister? Did you fight with your girlfriend?”

“Go to sleep early. Staying up late isn’t good for you. If something’s wrong, you can talk to me tomorrow.”

“It’s getting cold lately. Wear warmer clothes. And if you’re short on money, tell me.”

“Good night, Nate. Don’t be silly.”

That had been the first time he’d wondered if his good night had been meant for someone else all along.

Six thirty. His shift ended.

Noah returned to the dorm, showered quickly, changed into a long-sleeved shirt, and left again without lingering. By the time he reached the campus gate, the sky had deepened into evening.

Evelyn was already there.

She stood beneath the streetlight in a white, cutout dress that fell lightly against her frame, the fabric catching the glow and reflecting it back softly. Her posture was relaxed, confident, her long hair loose and unadorned, untouched by makeup. The effect was effortless and striking. Beautiful in a way that didn’t need emphasis.

“Well?” she asked, turning toward him with a smile. “Does this look alright?”

“It’s beautiful,” Noah said honestly. “You always look good.”

She laughed quietly. “Flatterer. Come on. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Dinner’s on me.”

“Thanks, Sis.”

They walked out of campus together and into the commercial district beyond. Night had fully settled over Rowan City, and the streets buzzed with life. Storefronts blazed with light, signs glowing in vivid color, people crowding the sidewalks. It was the city at its liveliest, loud and dazzling, almost overwhelming.

“What do you feel like eating?” Evelyn asked.

Noah walked half a step behind her, his gaze drifting until it settled on her hand by her side. A silver bracelet circled her wrist, catching the light with every movement.

She noticed. “What are you staring at?” she asked, glancing back at him. “My hand? Do you want to hold it?”

She extended her arm toward him without hesitation. The bracelet’s delicate pattern was clearer up close.

Noah frowned slightly. “Sis, why are you still wearing that thing? It’s kind of old-fashioned. Doesn’t really suit you.”

“What do you mean?” Evelyn said lightly. “I think it’s pretty. I like it.”

She’d received it on her thirteenth birthday. Noah had saved up his allowance for weeks, wandering through shops without knowing what to buy until he’d seen a display of traditional silver jewelry tucked away in a corner. At the time, it had seemed special.

Now, it looked out of place. Too mature. Like a little girl trying on her mother’s shoes.

“You really like it?” he asked.

Evelyn lifted her wrist, letting the bracelet catch the moonlight as she studied it. “When I look at this,” she said softly, “I think of you when you were little. Nate back then was so adorable. Always well-behaved, always trailing after me, calling my name.”

“I still listen to you,” Noah muttered under his breath.

“Yes,” she said, a pause slipping into her voice. “You do.” Then she smiled and waved the thought away. “Anyway. Dinner. Have you decided on it?”

He pointed toward a small street-side shop. “Egg wraps.”

“That’s it?” she teased. “Will that really be enough?”

“If you add more fillings, then sure.”

Evelyn glanced over the options and added extra vegetables and meat she remembered he liked. He’d developed a taste for egg wraps in middle school, but between school schedules and distance, he’d rarely had the chance to eat them. She’d learned how to make them herself later, though she’d almost never had the opportunity to cook for him.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Eat while it’s still hot.”

“Thanks.”

They left the crowded streets behind and took a quieter path toward the river. The summer night breeze rolled off the water, cool against their faces, easing the lingering heat of the day.

Evelyn walked along the railing, her fingers brushing against it lightly, tapping out the melody of a song she loved without realizing it. She knew Noah had questions. She had things she wanted to say. Once he finished eating, they would finally talk.

“I’m full,” Noah said after a while. “This place is really good. You should try it.”

She accepted the wrap and finished the remaining portion with small bites.

After so many years of closeness, of mutual reliance and trust, these small exchanges felt natural. Sharing food. Standing too close. The ease of it had never felt strange to either of them.

But once, when Lila had seen Noah drink from the same cup she’d used, she’d scolded him sharply, explaining boundaries with an authority that had startled him. It was then he’d learned about distance, about things that were no longer acceptable once he’d grown up.

Evelyn had never liked teaching him those rules.

As long as he hadn’t fully grown, as long as he remained unaware, she could take what closeness she wanted, imagine that he belonged to her alone.

If only he would keep listening to her forever.

How easy everything would be.