Chapter 17: Bedtime Story
Steamy hot water cascaded over him, rinsing away every trace of the day's grime. The shower streamed down in soft rivulets, splashing tiny droplets around his feet.
The sticky discomfort disappeared completely. After the shower, Julian Hayes felt clean and refreshed. He dropped onto his bed, letting the soft blankets pull him into their warm embrace. The old wooden frame gave a faint, familiar creak.
Another busy day was finally over. He grabbed his battered phone—its edges chipped and cracked—and opened the banking app.
The screen was a web of glaring fractures. He checked the balance. It was a decent amount saved up, but still nowhere near enough to cover steep college tuition and all the living expenses that came with it.
Truthfully, Julian wasn't even sure the total would be enough. The figures he'd looked up online for tuition were almost covered, but real life always had extra costs no one warned you about. He had to stay ahead of it.
He'd started this habit not long after his dad passed away. That time had blindsided him completely. Grief had been bad enough, but learning to take care of himself on his own had been brutal. Plenty of people felt sorry for him, yet none of that sympathy paid for groceries, utilities, or the rest of the bills.
With the modest inheritance he'd received, he'd scraped by carefully. Every expense had nearly broken him back then, which taught him the hard truth about saving for a rainy day.
It was 9:50 p.m. Sleep still felt miles away. He usually didn't drift off until around 10:30, and even then it took another half hour of tossing and turning before his mind finally shut down.
Julian had no interest in scrolling short videos or downloading games. These quiet pockets of time were usually spent sitting in the dark, staring out the window at the distant city lights, letting his thoughts drift in every direction.
He had considered selling the old house, going all-in, and starting fresh in some unfamiliar college town far away. The idea never lasted long. This was the home his parents had protected with their entire lives. Without it, he'd be like a small boat without oars—drifting farther and farther down a rushing river, never able to turn back.
He'd rather watch the place fall apart from age and neglect than lose ownership of it. As long as the house was still his, he would always have somewhere to return to.
He wondered if the woman who lived across the hall felt the same way. She hadn't come back in all these years and might never return, yet she had left the house standing and given him the key to watch over it.
Julian had never thought of that key as a gift. He figured Isabella had simply entrusted it to him, asking him to look after her "home."
But… if you don't come back soon… I'll be gone too, Isabella.
A soft, melodic ringtone shattered the quiet. Julian picked up. The contact saved as Hannah was calling.
"Hey hey, can you hear me? Mole mole, this is sweet potato."
Julian gave a wry smile. Hannah's bubbly energy always managed to slice straight through the heavy mood and yank him back into the role of that slightly awkward, sunny kid.
Their first meeting had been on that afternoon at the start of the school year. He'd blended in with all the new students and their parents, nothing special about him. He had handled the paperwork alone and then sat in the classroom feeling completely out of place.
Hannah had been sitting in front of him since the first day. That afternoon she had worn a white pleated sundress with lacy ankle socks, her long, silky hair pulled into a high ponytail and clipped with a little four-leaf-clover barrette. Her skin looked almost translucent in the light.
She had been holding a thick book in her lap while sunlight poured through the window, the pale blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. Her pretty face had looked bright and alive, giving off that quiet literary-girl vibe.
Only later, once they knew each other better, had he realized she was actually a bubbly, slightly scatterbrained girl who came up with the weirdest ideas.
The book she had been reading that day wasn't some cold, tragic European classic. It had been The Three-Body Problem—one of the last things you'd expect on a girl's shelf.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. What can I do for you, boss?"
"You forgot already, didn't you? Hurry up and tell me a bedtime story." Hannah's voice was loud and energetic, sounding more like a bandit who had just spotted fresh loot than someone about to go to sleep.
"Fine, fine, whatever you want. What are you in the mood for?"
"Hmm… a dark fairy tale. The darker the better."
Julian was quiet for a second, feeling a little helpless. "Can't you pick something normal girls would listen to?"
Actually, that answer fit Hannah perfectly. Sweet, happy-ending stories never seemed like her style.
"You don't get a choice. Start talking."
"Give me a sec. I'll look one up."
"…So you didn't even prepare anything? You were just going to Google it?"
"Come on, princess. Did you expect me to make one up on the spot?" Julian asked with a tired laugh.
"Okay… fine. Found anything?"
"Yeah, this one—The Nightingale and the Rose."
Julian picked the first title that sounded decent without even reading the summary. He started reading in a flat, sleepy voice. The other end of the line stayed perfectly quiet, the only sound her soft, steady breathing.
The Nightingale and the Rose, by Oscar Wilde. It was about a young man who wanted to pick a red rose from the garden to give to the girl he loved. But it was the middle of winter. He searched the entire garden and couldn't find a single red rose. Heartbroken, he began to cry.
His tears caught the attention of a nightingale. Moved by his sorrow, the bird decided to help and asked how it could be done.
The nightingale pressed her breast against the thorn of a rosebush and sang all night long. Her blood flowed down the stem and colored the rose.
In the end, the rose bloomed… and the nightingale died.
The young man took the flower to the girl. She rejected him anyway.
He threw the red rose onto the ground, and a carriage wheel crushed it into the dirt.
When he finished, the line stayed silent. Julian wasn't sure if Hannah had been affected by it. After almost half a minute he asked carefully, "Hannah? You still there?"
"Julian…"
Her voice came out thin and strange, nothing like her usual energy and impossible to read as sad or anything else.
"You and Margaret… what exactly is your relationship?"
Julian hadn't expected the question. It was simple enough to answer, but the serious tone caught him off guard.
"Margaret and me… classmates… friends, I guess. Same as you and me. Why?"
"Nothing." Her tone snapped back to its usual brightness. "Tell me another one."
"What? It's time for bed, princess."
"No school tomorrow. Got a hot date or something?"
"Yeah, with Margaret."
"Huh?" Hannah's voice sharpened for a split second before she caught herself and forced it back down, sounding deliberately casual. "I thought you said you two were just classmates and friends."
"Kidding. We have a shift at the diner tomorrow morning. Boss will kill me if I'm late."
She wasn't letting it go. "One more story and I'll bring you coffee at the diner tomorrow. Plus two extra sausage biscuits."
"…You really want another one?" Julian smiled.
"Stop stalling. Take the deal or leave it."
"Deal."
He picked a second story and read it more carefully this time, trying to give it some feeling for the sake of those biscuits.
"That's so gross. Just read it flat next time."
"Hey, I was trying—never mind. Whatever you want."
When he finished, Hannah didn't push for more. They said goodnight and hung up.
Julian switched to his messages and noticed one from half an hour earlier that he had missed while telling the stories.
Margaret: Get some sleep early. Good night.
"Night," he typed back.