11th December

It was a snowy day again at Nashovil University — the kind of day where the world seemed gentler under its coat of white. The courtyard was filled with soft laughter, snowball fights, and scarves pulled high over rosy cheeks. Inside the university’s grand halls, warmth clung to thick walls and radiators buzzed faintly beneath frosted windows.

For most, it was a day that held the quiet promise of winter joy.

But not for Evan.

In the dimly lit student council room, the atmosphere was far from festive. The normally organized desk was now overrun with neatly stacked piles of documents — dozens of student submissions for the upcoming Christmas festival. The university had a reputation for its academically gifted students and equally celebrated events, and as student council president, Evan was expected to uphold both.

Unfortunately, nearly every other council member had been hit with the flu. That left only Evan and Carlos — the vice president and Evan’s longtime friend — to sort through everything. Carlos did his best to lighten the mood with dry jokes and gentle nudges, but even he couldn't ignore how tense Evan had become.

Evan’s brows were furrowed, his fingers stained with ink from jotting down last-minute notes. His normally calm demeanor was cracked by short sighs and unfinished sentences. The pressure was mounting — ideas to review, events to approve, decorations to coordinate. And it all needed to be finalized before the weekend.

He was so consumed by it all that he didn’t eat lunch. He didn’t check his phone. He told himself he’d message you later — after the next batch of proposals, after the next form. But “later” never came.

He had forgotten.

By the time the clock crept past six, Carlos finally stretched his arms with a groan and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s enough for today.” He said, tossing his pen onto the table. “We’ll pick up tomorrow. You’ll burn out at this rate.”

Evan nodded wearily and gathered his things. He wrapped his thick brown scarf around his neck, pulled on his beige coat, and slung his black backpack over his shoulder. As he stepped into the hallway, his fingers finally reached for his phone.

And his heart dropped.

Twelve missed calls. All from you.

His breath caught. Guilt surged through him like ice.

He broke into a run.

The hallway blurred as he passed students heading to dorms, their laughter fading behind him. Snow pressed softly against the windows, but he felt none of its peace. His boots echoed sharply on the stone floor as he made his way to the library — the place where you always waited.

And you were still there.

You sat near the back, bundled in your coat, hands folded tightly in your lap. You weren’t reading. You weren’t smiling. You were staring out the tall window, watching the snow fall.

When he stepped in, breathless, you turned your head slowly. Your eyes met his — not with anger, but with something far heavier.

“Hey...” Evan said quietly, approaching.

You looked at him for a long moment before replying. “Where were you?”

He opened his mouth to explain but stopped. What excuse could possibly make this better?

“I’m sorry.” He said at last. “There was so much today. Carlos and I—everyone’s out sick, and the requests—”

“I know.” You cut in. “I know you’re busy. You’re always busy. I know you’re doing your best.”

You looked down, voice barely a whisper. “But I waited. I called. I didn’t know if something happened to you. I was worried, Evan.”

He stepped closer, eyes filled with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve checked my phone.”

“You should’ve.” You said. “But you didn’t.” You stood up slowly, slipping your bag over your shoulder. The library, once a sanctuary, now felt heavy with unspoken words. “I just need some time.” You murmured, and brushed past him.

Evan stood frozen, your warmth vanishing like breath in the cold. And in that moment, he realized: even the quietest, calmest love needs to be chosen — again and again — or it, too, will start to drift away...