Chapter 58 I’m Flying Out to New York Tonight
They talked— easy now, words flowing like they’d been waiting years to be spoken. Andrew told her about the time he tried to cook for his mom and set off the smoke alarm; Maggie admitted she once spent three hours sketching a single leaf because the light was perfect. They swapped favorite songs (his: Kendrick’s Alright; hers: SZA’s Good Days). They laughed when Andrew mimicked Professor Wilfred’s nasal “good-faith exception” lecture voice; Maggie rolled her eyes and did an exaggerated impression of the barista who always spelled names wrong.
Time slipped. Andrew checked his watch— 12:07. He blinked, surprised.
Maggie noticed. “We’ve been here over an hour.”
“Yeah.” Andrew rubbed the back of his neck— sheepish grin. “Didn’t even notice.”
“Me neither.” Maggie’s smile softened. “I should probably head back. I have reading to finish.”
Andrew stood when she did— automatic. “Let me walk you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Maggie studied him for a second— then nodded once. “Okay.”
They stepped outside together. Afternoon sun had climbed higher; campus paths were busier now— students crisscrossing with backpacks and coffee cups. Andrew fell into step beside her, roses still in her arms, their paper sleeves crinkling softly.
Halfway across the quad Maggie glanced sideways. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
Andrew laughed— soft. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How I almost didn’t step in between you and that guy that day. How I almost just minded my own business… or—” He met her eyes. “What if I’d just stayed home? Today wouldn’t have happened.”
Maggie’s smile turned thoughtful. “True. But I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah.”
They reached the main gate of campus. Directly opposite, sunlight glinted off glass panes stacked high above the street. Maggie slowed, tilting her head toward the three‑story building across the road.
Andrew followed her gaze. “This is you?”
“This is me.” Her voice carried a quiet pride. The penthouse bedroom perched at the top looked like a glass aerie, suspended above the bustle below.
Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets— nervous suddenly. “Can I text you later?”
Maggie’s smile returned— slow, sure. “You better.”
Andrew exhaled— relieved laugh. “Good.”
She took one step toward the building— then paused. “Andrew?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for today.” She lifted the roses slightly. “And these.”
“Anytime.” His voice came out quieter than he meant.
Maggie held his gaze another second— then crossed the road and walked toward the entrance of her building. He watched her ascend the steps, the bouquet vivid against her pink shirt, until she disappeared through the glass doors.
Andrew stood there— alone at the gate— smiling like an idiot at nothing.
His phone buzzed.
Maggie.
Text me when you get home safe.
Andrew’s grin widened— impossible.
He typed back— fast.
Already planning my next excuse to see you.
He hit send.
Then he started walking— slow, light— back toward his dorm.
The day felt brighter than it had any right to.
And somewhere inside his chest, something clicked into place— quiet, certain, permanent.
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Inside Maggie's apartment building the corridor on the third floor of the building carried the faint scent of fresh paint and someone’s lunch cooking farther down the hall— garlic and herbs drifting through closed doors. At 12:30 p.m. the overhead lights burned a steady, cool white, reflecting off the polished steel of the elevator doors at one end and the matte-black front doors lining the passage. Maggie’s rubber soles brushed softly against the dark marble tile as she approached her own door, penthouse key card already in hand, pink shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows after the walk back from campus.
She had just pressed the card to the reader— green light blinking, lock whispering open— when the door three down swung inward.
Matthew stepped out, hoodie half-zipped, phone still in his hand like he’d been mid-call. His face lit with quick relief when he saw her.
“Maggie— hey.”
She paused, door half-open, and offered a small smile. “Hey, Matthew. What’s up?”
He walked the few steps toward her, shoulders tense, free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m so glad you’re back. I came knocking about an hour ago, but got no response— figured you were out.”
Maggie’s brows lifted slightly. “Yes I was. Just got back.”
“I see.” Matthew exhaled— short, shaky. “Look, I hate to spring this on you, but I just got a call from home. My mom’s sick. She’s been admitted to the hospital.”
Maggie’s expression softened instantly. She let the door ease closed behind her so it latched quietly. “Oh no. Matthew, I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“I don’t even have the full details yet.” His voice cracked on the last word; he swallowed hard. “They said she collapsed this afternoon. Tests are still going on. I’m flying out to New York tonight.”