Chapter 16: What He Doesn't Say
(Evan Carter POV)
I didn't follow her.
That was the first lie I told myself that morning.
I stood in the courtyard long after Mia disappeared into the flow of students, my hands buried in my coat pockets, breath fogging the air like evidence I couldn't erase. Snow crunched beneath passing feet. Life resumed. It always did.
I stayed still.
The urge to go after her was sharp—instinctive in a way I didn't allow myself often. One step. Two. Close the space I'd created with my own silence.
I didn't move.
Distance was safer. For both of us.
That didn't stop it from hurting.
I turned away before my resolve could crack and walked in the opposite direction, toward the quieter side of campus. The older buildings sat there like they'd seen worse things than unresolved conversations.
Stone. Cold. Patient.
They understood restraint.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Once.
I ignored it.
Again.
I stopped walking.
The screen lit up with a name I hadn't seen in months.
Unknown Contact
"You're slipping".
I stared at the message longer than I should have.
A third vibration followed.
"You were seen last night and are getting too close ".
My jaw tightened.
Snow. A bench. A moment that had felt dangerously human.
I typed a reply with gloved fingers.
"You're mistaken, and I don't like being watched".
The response came instantly.
"You always say that".
I exhaled slowly and locked the screen, tucking the phone away like it could burn through my coat if I let it linger. Whoever it was—whoever still watched—knew enough to be annoying.
But,Not enough to be threatening.
Yet.
I adjusted my route, cutting across a narrow path that ran behind the science wing. Fewer people passed here. The trees were bare, branches skeletal against the pale sky.
A student who was in same department approached me.
Daniel scratched the back of his neck, hesitating like he'd already decided this was a stupid thing to ask.
"Hey—uh, weird question," he said. "Do you have a twin or something?"
I looked at him. "No."
He frowned. Not dramatic. Just… thinking.
"Okay. That's what I thought," he said slowly. "It's just—someone asked me about you last night."
My body went still.
"Asked you what?" I said.
Daniel shrugged, trying to play it off, but his eyes flicked away for half a second. "Your name. Where you stay. Stuff like that."
"That's not a twin question," I said.
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, well. I figured maybe I mixed you up with someone else."
"Who asked?" I pressed on.
He shifted his weight slightly, hands sliding into his jacket pockets. "Some guy. Older. Not campus security or anything. Didn't look like a student."
My pulse stayed level. Training did that. Habit.
"When was this?" I asked.
"Late," he said. "Like… after nine. I was heading back from the convenience store."
"Did you answer him?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Not really," he said. "I mean, I told him I'd seen you around class. That's it."
That was already too much.
He must have sensed the change in me, because his voice dropped. "I didn't give him anything important. He was just… persistent."
Persistent.
"What did he look like?" I asked.
Daniel thought for a moment. "Tall. Dark jacket, slightly good looking. Kept his hands in his pockets the whole time. Didn't smile."
I nodded once.
"That him?" he asked.
I met his eyes. "If someone asks again," I said, "don't answer."
Daniel blinked. "Again?"
I didn't respond.
He laughed awkwardly. "Okay, man. I was just curious. Guess it's nothing."
"Yeah," I said.
Nothing.
He walked off, already forgetting the conversation, already filing it away as a strange moment that didn't belong to him.
I stood there long after he was gone.
Someone had been looking for me.
Not Evan Carter.
Me.
And they hadn't come directly.
Which meant they were watching.
I stood there alone, the silence heavier than before.
Why I came here.
The answer surfaced uninvited.
To rest.
To hide.
To pretend I could exist without consequence.
And somewhere along the way—
To care.
I resumed walking, slower now, thoughts looping dangerously close to places I avoided.
Mia hadn't asked for answers last night.
That was the cruelest part.
She hadn't demanded explanations or pressed against boundaries she didn't understand. She'd simply asked why—and accepted my silence like it was a language she needed to learn.
People who did that didn't stay untouched.
My phone vibrated again.
Another message. Different sender.
Mia: Did you leave your notebook in the lecture hall?
I stared at the screen.
A normal message. Innocent. Practical.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
I could answer like nothing had changed. Like the space between us was imaginary.
Or I could be honest in the only way I knew how.
I typed.
I might have. I'll check later.
A pause.
Then: Okay. Let me know.
No emoji. No extra words.
Careful.
I locked the phone and slipped it back into my pocket, heart heavier than before. She was adjusting already. Learning the shape of my distance.
That thought twisted something in my chest.
I reached my apartment an hour later, shrugging off my coat and boots in silence. The place was clean. Sparse. Temporary.
I set my bag down and froze.
My notebook lay on the table.
Open.
I hadn't left it in the lecture hall.
I hadn't taken it out this morning.
Slowly, I stepped closer.
Nothing was missing. Nothing rearranged.
Except for one thing.
On the last page—blank when I'd last seen it—someone had written a single line, neat and deliberate.
She's closer than you think.
The room felt colder.
I closed the notebook carefully,
I closed the notebook carefully.
Whoever did this hadn't broken in.
They'd waited.
They'd known.
And as the truth settled in, cold and unavoidable, I understood something I hadn't wanted to face:
Whatever distance I'd created…
It wasn't enough.
If I didn't push Mia away now—
someone else would use her to drag me back.