Isabel sat by the window, legs tucked beneath her, staring out at the twilight sinking into the campus. The sky outside looked like it was holding its breath, a blend of fading gold and creeping grey. She hadn't heard from Adrian since the incident in the parking lot, and each hour of silence carved a deeper hole in her chest.
Jude sat at the small dining table, scrolling on his phone but not really reading anything. Every few seconds, he'd glance at her, then look away, unsure of what to say.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" he finally asked.
She didn't respond at first, just hugged her knees tighter. "I know. It's just… it's a lot."
Jude walked over and sat beside her on the wide windowsill. "Daniel showing up like that—it rattled you."
She nodded, eyes glassy. "I thought I'd left that part of my life behind."
Jude reached over, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not alone, Isabel. You have me."
That made her smile, just faintly. Jude always had a calming presence, but tonight, even his warmth couldn't stop the chill she felt in her bones.
Meanwhile, in his study, Adrian stood by the liquor cabinet, staring down at the unopened bottle of scotch. He wanted something to numb him, even for a moment. But he couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.
His phone buzzed. A message from Vanessa.
Vanessa: You okay? You've been quiet since the incident.
Adrian stared at the screen. He hadn't told her what had really happened—what Daniel said, how he threatened Isabel. How he saw a darker version of himself in Daniel and hated it.
Instead, he typed: "I'm fine. Just dealing with things."
A knock interrupted his thoughts. It was Mrs. Harper.
He opened the door with a tired expression. "Dean Harper."
She stepped in without invitation, closing the door behind her. "We need to talk."
Adrian straightened. "About?"
"About your relationship with Isabel Monroe," she said coolly.
Adrian's face went pale. "There is no—"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Adrian. I've been watching you both closely. And unfortunately for you, someone else is too."
Adrian tensed. "Who?"
"I received an anonymous letter today," she said, pulling an envelope from her bag. "With photos."
He took the letter, fingers trembling slightly. Inside were snapshots—grainy, zoomed-in—but unmistakable. Him and Isabel in his office. Her hand brushing his, their eyes locked. One from the hallway. One from outside the café. Nothing overt, but enough to raise questions.
"Daniel," Adrian muttered. "It has to be him."
Mrs. Harper watched him carefully. "You're treading on dangerous ground. You know the policy."
"I'm not her professor anymore."
"Doesn't matter. Power dynamics, reputation, the press—it's a storm waiting to break."
Adrian rubbed his forehead. "So what do you want from me?"
"I want you to end it. Whatever it is. Or I'll be forced to take action. This university has too much at stake."
She left the office quietly, leaving Adrian standing there with the photos still in hand. His heart felt heavy. The price of loving Isabel kept rising.
Back at the apartment, Isabel finally emerged from her silence.
"I think he's going to pull away," she said softly.
Jude looked up. "Adrian?"
She nodded. "He hasn't replied to my texts. Not even a call."
Jude hesitated. "Do you… want to go after him?"
Isabel looked down. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just not meant to be loved by someone like him."
"That's not true," Jude said firmly. "You're worth everything, Isabel. Don't let anyone make you feel small."
She gave him a faint smile. "Thanks, Jude."
That night, Isabel couldn't sleep. She kept tossing, replaying everything in her mind—the kiss, the intimacy, the silence afterward. Eventually, she got out of bed and grabbed her coat. She needed answers.
She arrived at Adrian's house just past midnight. The lights were off, but his car was there. She hesitated, then knocked.
After a long moment, he opened the door. He looked tired, worn down, but still achingly beautiful in the dim porch light.
"Isabel," he breathed.
"Why haven't you called?" Her voice broke.
He looked down, then stepped aside to let her in. The house felt cold, like him.
She turned to him once the door closed. "Talk to me."
Adrian's voice was low. "Mrs. Harper knows. She has photos. She's threatening to report me."
Isabel's heart sank.
"She wants me to end this," he continued. "And… maybe she's right."
She blinked. "What?"
"I don't want you dragged through the mud because of me. You still have a future here. Your degree, your reputation—"
"And what about us?" she snapped.
He flinched.
"I'm not some naive student who doesn't know what she's doing," she continued. "I want this. I want you. Don't push me away just to protect me."
He stepped closer, voice almost a whisper. "And what if you get hurt anyway?"
"Then I'll deal with it. But I'd rather take the risk than regret never fighting for you."
Their eyes locked in a fierce, quiet war. Then suddenly, he closed the distance and pulled her into a kiss—desperate, bruising, filled with all the fear and longing he'd been bottling.
They stumbled back toward the living room, limbs tangled, emotions raw. The couch caught them, and clothes disappeared between kisses and breathless gasps. This wasn't gentle—it was reckless and intense, fueled by everything they weren't allowed to feel.
Later, lying tangled in the aftermath, Isabel traced a finger along Adrian's jaw. "We'll figure this out. Together."
He kissed her forehead. "You always say the right thing."
Across town, Daniel sat in his car, parked across from Adrian's house, eyes glued to the dark windows. He clenched his phone, watching. Waiting. He'd sent those photos, and still, nothing had changed.
"They think I'm done?" he muttered.
A slow smile crept over his face. "Let's make things interesting."