Chapter Four : Good Morning Became Good Night

The lab book was returned.

The printouts were taken.

Martin had successfully completed his academic mission.

This should have been the end.

There was no reason to text June anymore.

No missing pages.

No blurry photographs.

No urgent practical records requiring immediate national attention.

Martin stared at their chat.

June's last message was from the previous evening.

Okay 👍

He stared at it for a while.

Then closed the chat.

Opened it again.

Still Okay 👍.

Very strange.

Apparently, messages did not reproduce on their own.

Martin put his phone aside and opened his textbook.

He read three lines.

Picked up his phone.

Nothing.

"Study," he told himself.

His brain agreed.

His hand opened June's chat.

Martin sighed.

This was becoming a medical condition.

He typed:

Hi

Then deleted it.

They had already passed the Hi stage.

At least Martin believed so.

June had probably not been informed about this relationship milestone.

He thought for a moment.

Then typed:

Did you complete today's work?

Academic.

Safe.

Respectable.

Martin sent it.

June replied ten minutes later.

No 😂

Martin smiled.

Why?

Lazy

He stared at the word.

Then typed:

Same

A complete lie.

Martin had finished his work two hours ago.

But sometimes, relationships are built on shared interests.

And apparently Martin had chosen fictional laziness as theirs.

---

The conversation lasted twelve minutes.

Nothing important happened.

They discussed work.

Complained about a professor.

June sent a laughing emoji.

Martin read the conversation again before sleeping.

Just for academic review, obviously.

The next morning, Martin woke up and checked his phone.

No message.

He looked at the time.

8:04 a.m.

His fingers moved before his dignity could interfere.

Good morning ☀️

June was brushing her hair when her phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen.

Martin.

She opened the message.

Good morning?

June smiled slightly.

Good morning

And that should have been it.

Two civilised people wishing each other a pleasant morning.

Beautiful.

Polite.

Finished.

Except Martin sent another good morning the next day.

And the next.

Then again.

June began to suspect that Martin had appointed himself as her personal sunrise notification.

Some mornings, he was early.

Good morning ☀️

Other mornings, June woke up first.

She would check her phone.

Nothing.

She would put it away.

Pick it up five minutes later.

Still nothing.

Not that she was waiting.

Absolutely not.

She simply needed to check the time.

Repeatedly.

Through Martin's chat.

Perfectly normal behaviour.

Then the message would arrive.

Good morning ❤️

June stared at the heart.

Martin stared at the heart from his side.

Both of them had very different reactions.

June thought:

He probably sends hearts to everyone.

Martin thought:

Was the heart too much?

He considered deleting it.

Too late.

Seen.

Martin placed his phone face down.

Picked it up.

Placed it down again.

June replied.

Good morning ❤️

Martin stopped breathing.

Now, any reasonable person would understand that June had simply returned the same emoji.

Martin was not reasonable anymore.

He stared at the two red hearts.

His.

Hers.

Side by side.

This was practically a wedding invitation in his mind.

---

Soon, the messages escaped academics completely.

Had breakfast?

No

Why?

I woke up late

Eat something

June frowned at her phone.

Okay mom

Martin smiled.

Good girl

June's smile disappeared.

She stared at the screen.

Shut up

Martin laughed.

This was new.

June was becoming comfortable.

The polite girl who had once answered him with short, careful replies was slowly disappearing.

In her place was someone who called him stupid.

Threatened to cut his calls.

Sent him terrible photos of classroom boards with absolutely no focus.

And once replied to his entire paragraph with:

K

Martin nearly ended the friendship.

"K?" he asked her later.

"Yes."

"I sent you six lines."

"I read them."

"And you replied K?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

June thought.

"K."

Martin hung up.

June laughed so loudly her roommate looked at her.

The phone rang again ten seconds later.

Martin.

June answered.

"I thought you hung up."

"I did."

"Then why are you calling?"

"I wasn't finished being angry."

June laughed again.

Martin forgot his anger.

This was becoming a pattern.

---

Their first proper call had not been planned.

Martin called her for something related to class.

At least, that was the official statement.

Years later, if questioned under oath, Martin would probably still insist it was related to class.

The problem was that the academic discussion ended in approximately four minutes.

The call continued for another fifty-six.

"So what are you doing?" Martin asked.

"Talking to you."

"I know."

"Then why did you ask?"

Martin paused.

Fair question.

"I meant... what were you doing before?"

"Nothing."

"Oh."

Silence.

June looked at her phone.

Martin looked at his ceiling.

Neither ended the call.

This was fascinating.

They had nothing to say.

Yet somehow, hanging up felt unnecessary.

"So..." June said.

"So..."

Another silence.

"Your conversation skills are amazing," June said.

Martin smiled.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'll take whatever I get."

June laughed.

And there it was.

The sound Martin had started liking far too much.

The call continued.

Fifty-six minutes became an hour.

An hour became two.

They talked about college.

Friends.

Food.

Teachers.

Childhood stories.

People they disliked for extremely valid reasons.

And people they disliked for no reason at all.

June discovered that Martin could talk endlessly once he became comfortable.

Martin discovered that June could turn one small story into twelve different stories and somehow forget the original point.

"So then she said—wait."

Martin waited.

"What?"

"I forgot what I was telling you."

Martin closed his eyes.

"June."

"Wait, wait. Don't disturb me."

"I haven't spoken for five minutes."

"Exactly. Continue that."

Martin laughed.

June remembered the story seven minutes later.

The ending was disappointing.

Martin listened anyway.

---

The calls became longer.

Not intentionally.

At least, that was what they told themselves.

One evening, Martin called at nine.

At ten, they were discussing class.

At eleven, they were talking about school memories.

At midnight, June was explaining why she hated a particular vegetable with a level of passion normally reserved for political debates.

At 1:17 a.m., Martin looked at the time.

"June."

"Hmm?"

"It's one."

"No, it's not."

Martin checked again.

"It is."

"Your clock is wrong."

"My phone gets automatic time."

"Technology can fail."

Martin smiled.

"You're sleepy."

"I'm not."

"You've yawned four times."

"I was breathing deeply."

"With sound?"

June ignored him.

Five minutes passed.

Her replies became slower.

"Hmm."

"Yeah."

"Mmm."

"June?"

"Hmm."

"What did I just say?"

"Yes."

Martin smiled.

"I said you look like a potato."

"Hmm."

"Good to know."

Silence.

"June?"

Nothing.

Martin lowered his voice.

"Did you sleep?"

A tiny sound came through the phone.

Martin waited.

Then smiled.

She had fallen asleep.

He should have ended the call.

He knew that.

Normal people ended calls when the other person fell asleep.

Martin looked at the call duration.

3:09:45

He stayed a little longer.

Just listening to the silence.

Then, finally, he disconnected.

---

The next morning—

Martin: Good morning ☀️

June replied three minutes later.

Why did you cut the call?

Martin stared.

He read the message again.

Then smiled.

You slept

So?

Martin's eyebrows rose.

So??

You could've stayed

Martin stopped.

June, meanwhile, realised what she had typed.

She stared at the message.

Her brain arrived late, as usual.

You could've stayed.

Why did she say that?

She quickly typed:

I mean whatever 😂

Excellent recovery.

Completely convincing.

Martin saw the second message.

He smiled.

Okay

June waited.

Another message arrived.

Tonight I won't cut

June stared at her phone.

Her cheeks felt strangely warm.

She typed the safest reply available.

Disgusting

Martin laughed.

---

Days quietly rearranged themselves around each other.

Morning meant a message.

College meant secretly noticing where the other person was.

Evening meant waiting.

Night meant calling.

And sleep—

sleep became something that happened accidentally during conversations.

June didn't know when Martin became part of her routine.

Martin knew exactly when June became part of his.

The moment she walked through that classroom door.

But he wasn't going to tell her that.

Not yet.

For now, he was happy with the calls.

The messages.

Her terrible insults.

Her sleepy voice saying his name.

He should have stayed quiet.

He should have enjoyed what he had.

Martin was an intelligent man.

Unfortunately, intelligent men are also capable of terrible decisions.

One night, somewhere between a random conversation and June accusing him of hiding something, Martin said:

"I like someone."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Martin smiled.

On the other side of the call, June sat up.

Her sleep disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What?"

Martin immediately knew he had made things interesting.

"I said... I like someone."

June held the phone closer.

"Who?"

Martin smiled at the ceiling.

And just like that—

a girl with absolutely no investigative experience,

no evidence,

and an alarming amount of confidence

appointed herself detective.

Detective June had officially taken the case.

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