The silence in Adrian's office was thick enough to be sliced. Isabel sat stiffly across from him, her hands folded on her lap, but her fingers trembled. The golden evening sun filtered through the large windows, painting the space in warmth, but there was nothing warm about the tension between them.
Adrian leaned forward, elbows on his desk, jaw tight. "I don't like the idea of you walking home alone," he said. His voice was calm, but the way he watched her—careful, measured—hinted at something deeper. Worry. Maybe more.
Isabel forced a small smile. "I'm not a child, Professor. I can take care of myself."
He studied her a moment longer, then sighed. "It's not about that. Daniel is watching you."
Her smile dropped.
"I had someone look into it," Adrian continued. "He's been hanging around near your classes. Near your building."
Isabel felt her stomach twist. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"Because I didn't want to scare you," he said. "But maybe I should have."
The air between them crackled with unspoken thoughts. Isabel stood and paced toward the window, arms wrapped around herself. The sky outside looked peaceful, painted in pinks and oranges—but her world was anything but.
"I hate that he still has this much power over me," she whispered. "I left him, Adrian. I survived him. And now he's lurking in the corners again like some ghost I can't shake."
Adrian stood quietly and walked toward her. He didn't touch her, just stood beside her, his voice softer now. "You're not alone anymore."
That word—anymore—settled into her chest. She turned slightly to face him. "You say that like it means something."
"It does."
They stood in that quiet understanding for a moment. She could feel the heat of him beside her, his nearness both calming and igniting something low in her stomach. But she pulled away before it turned into something more. There was too much going on. Too many eyes. Too many secrets.
Later that night, Jude was sprawled on their shared couch, Netflix paused on a half-watched crime documentary. "You should go to the police," she said, frowning as Isabel paced back and forth in the living room.
"I've already filed a report," Isabel said. "But you know how it goes. They need 'proof' that he's actually threatening me."
Jude shook her head. "You shouldn't have to live like this. Looking over your shoulder, second-guessing every sound."
"I'm trying not to let it eat me alive again," Isabel said softly. "But it's hard."
Jude stood and pulled her into a hug, arms firm and warm. "You're stronger than you think."
For a second, Isabel let herself breathe in that comfort. But then the phone on the table buzzed. A new message from an unknown number.
"Still pretending you're safe?"
Her heart nearly stopped. Her fingers trembled as she handed the phone to Jude. "It's him."
Jude's eyes narrowed. "We're changing your number tomorrow."
But Isabel just nodded, her mind spinning. How did he always know when to strike?
Across campus, Adrian stared at his own phone, debating. He wanted to text Isabel—ask if she was okay, offer to pick her up, even if she'd declined earlier. But he knew he had to tread carefully.
He couldn't afford to slip.
Not with the Dean already sniffing around.
Mrs. Harper had stopped him earlier that afternoon with one of her loaded smiles. "You're quite invested in Ms. Moreno's academic success, aren't you?"
He'd smiled back, polite but firm. "She's a promising student."
"And quite lovely," Mrs. Harper had said, her tone unreadable.
Adrian didn't reply. He knew better.
The woman was no fool.
Behind her uptight bun and sharp suits, she was a master at playing politics, especially when it came to protecting the university's reputation. He had to be careful.
But caring for Isabel didn't feel like a mistake.
It felt inevitable.
Vanessa Cole's art studio smelled like turpentine and coffee. She stood barefoot on the splattered floor, eyeing her unfinished canvas. It was chaotic—just like her head lately.
Zara hadn't answered her last three texts.
Their last conversation had ended with Zara accusing her of hiding—again. Hiding their relationship, her feelings, even her art.
Maybe she wasn't wrong.
Vanessa was good at pretending, at shrugging things off with a joke or a wink. But deep down, the pressure of being a "Cole" was crushing her. Her family expected clean lines and obedient smiles.
Instead, she gave them tattoos, women, and rebellion.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock.
She opened the door to find Jude standing there, hands in her jacket pockets.
"Hey," Jude said. "I brought you coffee. Thought you might need it."
Vanessa stepped aside, hiding her surprise. "You always show up when I'm losing my mind."
Jude grinned. "Lucky timing."
They stood awkwardly for a second. Then Vanessa laughed and shook her head. "Come in. But don't judge the mess."
"Mess is good," Jude said, stepping in. "Mess is honest."
Vanessa looked at her, really looked. There was something grounding about Jude—something easy. No expectations. Just presence.
And it scared the hell out of her.
Back at the apartment, Isabel sat on her bed, staring at her old diary. It was from her Daniel days—pages of her trying to justify bruises, begging herself to believe in his promises.
She flipped to the last entry.
"I hope one day I'll be brave enough to leave."
She swallowed hard.
She was brave now. But courage didn't erase fear.
Suddenly, a soft knock on her door.
It creaked open—and Adrian stepped in.
Her breath caught. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you," he said, voice low. "I saw your message. I couldn't sleep."
He crossed the room slowly. "I know this is risky. But I'm not going to let him scare you again. Not while I'm around."
She hesitated, then stepped into him. "I don't want to be scared anymore."
"You won't be," he whispered.
And in the quiet of the room, their lips met. Slow, searching, full of pain and promise.
But just as things began to deepen, her phone lit up again.
Another message.
"You can't hide from me, Isabel."
Her blood went cold.
She pulled back, heart racing. Adrian read the message over her shoulder. His expression hardened.
"This ends now," he said.
And in that moment, Isabel knew: the shadows of her past were no longer hers to face alone.