Chapter 19 THE NIGHT BEFORE
Elias
Elias couldn’t sleep.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling while his mind counted down. Tomorrow. Tomorrow at 2 PM. Tomorrow everything would change.
The grey jacket hung on his closet door. He’d tried it six times today. Took it off. Put it back on. Checked himself in the mirror like looking harder would make him more presentable.
His copy of Neruda sat on the nightstand. He’d marked the page with “I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.” Too obvious? Probably. He didn’t care.
At 2 AM, he gave up on sleep and got out of bed. Made coffee he didn’t need. Sat at his desk and pulled out all the letters.
Six of them. Six pieces of someone’s heart.
He read them in order again. Looking for details he’d missed. Building a picture from fragments.
Quiet voice. Black coffee. Small smiles. Watching since November. Trying to be invisible.
Someone who saw him reading and wanted to feel that present.
Someone who was learning to be brave.
Elias touched the last letter. The one that said “I’ll try.”
What if they didn’t show up? What if fear won? What if he stood at that rose arch for hours and nobody came?
His phone buzzed. His sister, somehow awake at 2 AM.
Sister: Stop spiraling
Elias: How do you always know
Sister: Because you’re predictable. Go to sleep. Tomorrow you need to not look like a zombie.
Elias: Can’t sleep
Sister: Try anyway. And Elias? They’re going to show up.
Elias: You don’t know that
Sister: I know they’ve been falling for you for months. I know they said yes. I know fear is loud but hope is louder.
Elias set down his phone. Looked at the letters again.
His correspondent had been brave enough to write first. Brave enough to keep writing. Brave enough to say yes when Elias asked to meet.
That had to count for something.
He tried to sleep again. Failed. At 4 AM he gave up completely and went for a run.
The campus was empty. Street lights made everything look orange and strange. His breath came hard and fast. His feet hit the pavement in rhythm.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
The quad was lit up even at this hour. The rose arch glowed red against the dark sky. Someone had added more flowers overnight. More hearts. More romance.
Elias stopped running and stood there staring at it.
In ten hours, he’d be standing right there. Waiting. Hoping.
His chest hurt from running. From fear. From hope.
He went home and showered. Drank more coffee. Watched the sun come up through his window.
Valentine’s Day.
At 7 AM, his phone exploded with messages.
Sister: Today’s the day!!
Professor Hartley: Good luck. Be yourself.
Sister: What are you wearing
Sister: Did you sleep
Sister: ANSWER ME
Elias responded to none of them. He was too busy trying not to throw up.
At 9 AM, he tried eating breakfast. Managed half a piece of toast before his stomach revolted.
At 10 AM, he tried on the grey jacket again. It looked fine. He looked terrible. Pale. Tired. Terrified.
At 11 AM, his sister called.
“Talk to me,” she said.
“I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“What if they don’t come? What if I wait there like an idiot and nobody shows up?”
“Then you go home and you keep writing. But Elias? I really think they’re going to come.”
“How do you know?”
“Because people don’t say yes to things that don’t matter. And this matters. To both of you.”
They talked for thirty minutes. His sister told him about her week, her job, normal things that had nothing to do with the clock ticking down. It helped. A little.
At noon, Elias got dressed. The grey jacket. Dark jeans. His good boots. He looked at himself in the mirror.
“You can do this,” he told his reflection. “You can stand there and wait and be brave.”
His reflection looked unconvinced.
At 1 PM, he grabbed the Neruda and his keys. Sat in his car in the parking lot. The campus was in chaos. Everyone is heading to the quad. Couples. Groups. People with cameras.
Elias’s hands shook on the steering wheel.
At 1:30, he drove to campus. Parked. Sat there for five more minutes.
His phone buzzed.
Professor Hartley: I can see you in your car. Get out. Go. You’ve got this.
Elias looked up. Professor Hartley was standing near the English building, coffee in hand. She waved.
He got out of the car.
The walk to the quad felt endless. His legs were shaking. His heart was trying to break through his ribs.
The rose arch was surrounded by people. Flowers everywhere. A stage with someone making announcements. Music playing. Chaos and color and overwhelming noise.
Elias found a spot near the arch. Checked his watch.
1:47 PM.
Thirteen minutes.
He opened the Neruda. Tried to read. The words swam on the page.
Students walked past. Couples found each other. Someone squealed and hugged. Someone else cried happy tears.
Elias stood there holding his book and feeling completely exposed.
1:52 PM.
Eight minutes.
His phone buzzed. His sister.
Sister: Breathe
He tried. Couldn’t.
1:55 PM.
Five minutes.
The crowd was getting bigger. More people are arriving. More reveals are happening. Someone proposed on the small stage and everyone cheered.
Elias scanned faces. Looking for someone quiet. Someone trying to hide. Someone who might be his.
1:58 PM.
Two minutes.
His hands were sweating. The book was getting damp. He wiped his palms on his jeans and gripped it tighter.
1:59 PM.
One minute.
Elias looked up at the arch. Red roses and pink ribbons and hearts everywhere.
His heart hammered so hard he could hear it over the music.
2:00 PM.
He stood there. Waiting. Grey jacket and Neruda and hope.
People walked past. None of them looked at him twice.
2:01 PM.
Still waiting.
2:02 PM.
The crowd shifted. Someone new was walking toward the arch. Dark hair. Oversized cardigan under a coat. Moving slowly. Head down.
Elias’s breath stopped.
The person looked up.
Their eyes met.