Finding light in the darkest places—through love-Chapter 90 – Not Just Yours to Carry
Chapter 90 - 90 – Not Just Yours to Carry
It was Monday again.
The sky had that overcast gray that didn't promise rain but still managed to make the whole world feel quieter. Evelyn walked across campus with her headphones in, a thermos of hot tea in one hand and her mind only half present in the moment.
She kept thinking about Saturday. The way Adrian had held her like she wouldn't break. The way he'd said:
"You don't have to be useful to be loved."
The words kept replaying like a gentle drumbeat in her chest. Not just because of what he said—but how he said it. With conviction. As if he meant it not just for her but maybe... for himself, too.
She didn't push. She hadn't asked.
But Evelyn was beginning to wonder how much Adrian didn't say.
A Shift in the Air
Their usual rhythm was easy.
Morning texts. Casual jokes. Small things like sharing a seat at the library or walking back together after lectures. They had slowly built something out of moments—quiet, real, unspoken things.
But something was different when she saw him that afternoon.
He was sitting in his usual spot in the library, but his knee was bouncing. His notes looked untouched, and his fingers kept clenching the edge of the desk like he needed to hold onto something.
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She slid into the chair across from him.
"You look like you just fought a bear," she said lightly, trying to break the tension.
Adrian didn't look up at first. Just let out a quiet breath and forced a small smile.
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"It's nothing."
She tilted her head, not buying it.
"You're bouncing your leg like it owes you money," she said. "That's usually your 'I'm thinking too hard and pretending I'm fine' look."
He glanced at her, a little surprised. "You've memorized my nervous tics?"
"I've memorized a lot of you."
That made him pause.
For a second, she thought he might brush it off again. But then something in him seemed to loosen—like a thread finally giving way.
"My brother called," he said, low. "It was... unexpected."
Evelyn leaned forward slightly, giving him space—but also letting him know she was there.
"I didn't know you had a brother."
"Half-brother," Adrian corrected, voice quiet. "He's older. We don't talk."
There was a long silence.
"He just got out of rehab. Again," Adrian added, his voice tight. "This time he's trying to 'do better,' and he thought calling me would be a good start."
Evelyn's heart ached at the edge in his tone—not anger exactly, but something closer to weariness.
She didn't press. Didn't ask a hundred questions. She just said, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Adrian looked at her for a long moment. Like he was still deciding.
Then—finally—he nodded.
The Things We Carry
"My mom used to work two jobs," he started, voice flat. "Dad was barely around, and when he was... let's just say he wasn't the picture of stability. My brother—Ryan—got into trouble early. Skipping school, drugs, arrests. You name it."
He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling like it held the memory.
"I was the quiet one. The 'good kid.' The one who didn't cause problems. And for a long time, I thought that was my job—to not need anything. So Mom could focus on him. So no one had to worry about me."
Evelyn felt her throat tighten.
"I kept thinking," Adrian continued, "that if I just stayed invisible long enough, things would get better. But they didn't. And by the time I realized I was angry, it was too late. I'd trained myself out of asking for help."
He let out a small, bitter laugh.
"I didn't even tell anyone when I got into college. Not really. Just packed a bag and left. No drama. No goodbye."
He looked back at her then, and his eyes—usually so calm—were filled with something sharp and fragile.
"I don't think I ever figured out what it means to let people in."
Evelyn reached for his hand.
She didn't say I understood. Because her story wasn't the same. But pain didn't need to match perfectly to be valid.
"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she said softly. "But if you want to be seen—really seen—I'm here. I'll stay."
Adrian didn't answer right away.
But his fingers tightened around hers.
And that was enough.
Not a Fix—A Foundation
They didn't study much after that. Just sat in silence, their notebooks open but untouched. Adrian looked tired—like some emotional dam had cracked open and left him raw.
Evelyn didn't try to fix it.
She just sat next to him, close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough to be steady without being overbearing.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "You don't have to thank me for caring."
He glanced at her, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then, in a rare, open move, he leaned over and rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder.
It wasn't romantic—not quite. But it was intimate. Trusting.
Evelyn stilled, letting the moment between them.
"You've got me now," she whispered. "You don't have to carry everything alone."
He nodded, the motion barely perceptible.
And in that still, quiet space—where neither of them had to pretend or perform—something settled between them.
Something steady.
Something real.
