Chapter 72 Chapter 72

Chapter 72 Chapter 72
Fabian
A few weeks into the term, the initial novelty of Manchester had completely worn off, and the brutal reality of university workload had officially set in.
My days had dissolved into a blurred routine of early morning lectures, relentless engineering drafts, and endless cups of terrible student coffee.
Despite the exhaustion, I had actually managed to find a comfortable rhythm. My mornings always started the exact same way. I would wake up and immediately text Paris, who was usually already awake and studying. If we could manage it, we tried to sneak in a quick morning phone call, but those were becoming rare. Paris’s roommate, Eleanor, turned out to be an incredibly late sleeper. Paris always joked that it was Eleanor’s only real flaw, but she genuinely felt bad waking her up in the mornings. Because of that, our morning conversations had mostly dwindled down to a steady stream of texts.
Once my phone screen lit up with her last reply, I’d head out for a morning run to clear my head, make some breakfast, shower, and trek across campus to my engineering blocks. My evenings were usually spent hiding out in the design workshops where I could work on my structural drafts, or occasionally going out for a quick pint with a few guys from my class.
But no matter what I was doing, I always ensured I was back in the dorm building or completely alone by eleven o’clock.
Lately, I had actually considered asking her to reschedule the time, since she was usually asleep, but set an alarm to wake up. Paris had fallen into a heavy routine of her own, though her days were a lot more spontaneous thanks to Maya dragging her into random campus events. I was genuinely happy she had found a good friend. Paris sounded lighter when she talked about her, and she seemed happier overall. She was completely drowning in massive literature reading assignments, but she was thriving.
Whenever we talked, she always brought up Julian, her graduate TA. I was always happy to sit there and listen to her ramble about her day, and I genuinely loved hearing the raw passion in her voice when she explained some deep poem he had introduced in class. She happily listened to my engineering rants too, always asking intelligent questions and demanding that I send her pictures of the models I was building in the lab.
But tonight, the routine felt heavy. I had a shit day.
11:00 PM hit, and I pushed open the fire door to step into the concrete stairwell. I had since bought a thick winter coat and a pair of gloves so I wouldn’t freeze to death every time we spoke, but the draughty air still bit at my face. I sat down on the top step, pulled my phone out, and dialed her number.
The screen connected, and Paris appeared, sitting at her desk. She was surrounded by an absolute fortress of open library books, her hair thrown up in a messy bun. I was surprised she wasn’t snuggled in her duvet like usual.
“Hey,” she said softly, but she looked completely drained. The dark circles under her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
“Hey, babe,” I replied, leaning my head back against the concrete wall. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’ve been staring at the same page of Old English commentary for three hours, and I swear none of it makes sense. My brain is officially fried. How was your day?”
“Shitty,” I muttered honestly. “One of my digital blueprints crashed right before the submission deadline, and I had to walk across the entire university to get to a IT student who my friends said could get it back. He did, but my legs feel like lead.”
For the first time since we had started university, the conversation felt a little stiff. The easy, effortless banter we usually shared was completely replaced by tired complaints about our schedules. We were both just desperately tired, and the weight of the distance between us felt louder than usual.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Paris said, offering a weak, sympathetic smile through the screen. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Honestly, the only thing that made my day have any light at all was my literature seminar. Julian gave this incredible lecture on romantic symbolism, and it was just… so inspiring. It completely revived me.”
I recoiled a bit, my posture stiffening beneath my coat. A heavy silence hung over the line for a split second, and I knew my expression had changed.
Paris noticed it immediately. Her eyes widened slightly on the screen, and she quickly leaned closer to her camera. “Oh, Fabian, no—I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant the subject matter was a relief after a terrible morning. I’m just happier now that I’m actually talking to you.”
On my end, my grip tightened significantly on the edge of my phone. A dark, sharp spark of jealousy hit my chest right there in the freezing stairwell. It was an ugly feeling, and I hated myself for it, but hearing her talk about another guy being the only light in her day rubbed my raw nerves the wrong way.
I forced a small, tight nod and cleared my throat, trying to push the tension out of my voice.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
And I meant it, or at least, I forced myself to mean it. I trusted Paris completely. I knew she loved me, and I knew how much she valued what we had. Besides, the guy was a TA. It wasn’t like there was much that could actually happen between a student and a TA anyway. I was just being paranoid because I was tired.
“Are you sure?” she asked softly, her eyes searching mine through the lens.
“Yeah, Skates. I’m sure,” I said, offering her a more genuine smile this time to ease her mind. “Go get some sleep. You’ve got an early lecture tomorrow.”
“You too,” she murmured, her features softening with relief. “I love you, Fabian.”
“I love you too, Paris.”
We hung up, and the screen went black. I lowered the phone to my lap and sat on the cold concrete step for a long time, the silence of the stairwell suddenly feeling a lot heavier than it had before the call.