The call came at the worst time.
Family
Shui Mingyun stared at her phone as it vibrated softly against the desk.
"Mom"
The screen lit up her otherwise quiet room.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then she answered.
"…Hello."
"Mingyun, have you been eating properly?"
Her mother's voice was warm, familiar—comforting in a way that made something tighten in her chest.
"I have."
"You sound tired."
"Just classes."
A pause.
"…You're not overworking yourself, are you?"
"No."
The answer came naturally.
Too naturally.
Her mother sighed lightly. "Your father said you haven't called in a while."
"I've been busy."
"Mm… Take care of yourself, alright? Don't skip meals."
"…I won't."
The call ended.
The room fell silent again.
Shui Mingyun lowered her phone slowly.
Her hand rested, almost unconsciously, against her abdomen.
"…I know."
A quiet whisper.
Not defensive.
Not regretful.
Just… firm.
The next morning was harder.
The nausea didn't pass as quickly.
She stood in the bathroom longer than usual, one hand braced against the wall, her breathing uneven.
Three.
Her body wasn't letting her forget.
By the time she reached class—
She was late.
That didn't happen.
Not to her.
"Everything okay?" someone asked as she slipped into her seat.
Shui Mingyun nodded once. "Mm."
But she didn't open her notebook immediately.
Didn't write.
Didn't speak.
For the first time—
Her routine broke.
Almost Noticed
Group discussion.
Voices overlapping.
Chairs shifting.
"…Mingyun?"
She looked up.
A classmate frowned slightly. "You've been zoning out a lot lately."
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You look kind of pale."
A beat.
Too long.
"I didn't sleep well."
A simple answer.
Believable.
"…Take care," they said, though their expression lingered just a little longer than before.
That was new.
Near Miss — This Time, Closer
Evening.
Campus steps.
The sky dimming into soft orange.
Shui Mingyun descended slowly, one hand lightly brushing the railing—not out of weakness, but caution.
Measured.
Careful.
"Hey—watch it."
A voice nearby.
Footsteps approaching.
She looked up—
And froze.
Gu Yi.
Too close.
Closer than any time before.
He had noticed.
That much was clear.
His gaze lingered—not inappropriate, not intrusive—but focused.
Observing.
"You…" he started, then stopped.
Because he didn't know what to say.
Shui Mingyun straightened slightly.
The brief moment of stillness vanished from her posture.
"I'm fine," she said before he could ask.
Her tone was calm.
Controlled.
Distant.
Gu Yi frowned slightly.
"…You don't look fine."
A pause.
"…I just said I am."
Not sharp.
Not defensive.
But final.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The air felt… tight.
Then she stepped past him.
Not hurried.
Not hesitant.
Just… leaving.
Gu Yi turned slightly, watching her go.
His brows knit together faintly.
"…Something's off," he muttered.
That night, Shui Mingyun sat at her desk again.
The same page.
More numbers.
Revised.
Adjusted.
She added new columns.
Emergency funds.
Medical contingencies.
Time allocation.
Her pen slowed.
Not from hesitation—
But from the weight of precision.
Because now—
Mistakes weren't acceptable.
Gu Yi's Side — The First Crack
Back in his dorm—
Gu Yi wasn't studying.
"…You're distracted again," Chen Hao said, tossing a snack onto his desk.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Gu Yi didn't respond immediately.
"…Do you ever feel like something's wrong," he said suddenly, "but you can't figure out what?"
Chen Hao blinked. "That sounds like the start of a bad life decision."
"…Forget it."
But Gu Yi didn't pick up his book again.
Because for the first time—
He wasn't just remembering that night.
He was thinking about her.
Now.
Distance was still there.
Carefully maintained.
Deliberately protected.
But cracks had begun to form.
Small.
Subtle.
And cracks…
Had a way of spreading.