The bonfire had started to die down, but the warmth lingered in the air.
Most of the students had either gone back to their dorms or wandered off in smaller groups, leaving the area quieter, and more intimate.
Evelyn sat on a wooden bench near the fire, staring at the embers glowing beneath the charred logs.
The evening had been… different.
Not bad, just different.
And she wasn't sure how to process that yet.
Adrian plopped down beside her, stretching his arms behind his head.
"So, painting, huh?"
She exhaled, leaning back against the bench.
"Yeah."
"I knew you were into art, but I didn't realize you stopped."
She hesitated before responding.
"It just… lost its meaning for me."
Adrian was quiet for a moment, watching the fire.
"Or maybe you were scared to face what it meant."
Evelyn turned to him, eyebrows furrowed.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He met her gaze.
"Sometimes, the things we love the most are also the things that hold the most weight. When you lose yourself, those things feel too heavy to pick up again."
Her fingers curled against the fabric of her jacket.
He wasn't wrong.
She had avoided her art for so long because it reminded her of who she used to be—the version of herself that felt free, and hopeful.
And facing that again meant acknowledging just how much she had let go.
Adrian nudged her lightly.
"You know, you don't have to do it alone."
She blinked.
"What?"
"If you ever want to paint again, I'll be your first audience."
He smirked.
"Even if I have no idea what I'm looking at."
A laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it.
It was small, quiet, but real. Adrian's expression softened at the sound.
"I'll think about it,"
she said finally.
He grinned.
"That's all I ask."
The night stretched on, the stars twinkling above them.
And for the first time in a long while, Evelyn felt like she wasn't just stuck in the past—she was moving, even if just a little, toward something new.