Isabel stared at the ceiling of her dorm room that night, the faded glow-in-the-dark stars from a previous occupant barely visible. She hadn't peeled them off, partly because she didn't care and partly because they reminded her that she wasn't the first person to lie in that bed, lost in her own head.
Adrian's voice kept echoing in her mind—"Be careful who you share your silence with." It was such a strange, poetic thing for a professor to say. But he had meant it. There had been something in the way his voice softened, the way his eyes held her just a moment too long.
She sighed, pulling the blanket closer. Jude was out, probably at the media lab editing his project, and the silence in their shared dorm room was oppressive.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. A text. Unknown Number.
You looked pretty today. Still as mine as ever.
She froze. The warmth of her blanket turned to ice. Her fingers trembled as she read the words again. There was no name, but she didn't need one. That possessive tone, the quiet threat disguised as a compliment—it was Daniel.
She turned the screen down, heart racing. He was watching. Still watching.
The next morning, Isabel arrived to class early. Not because she wanted to, but because the idea of being alone in her room made her skin crawl.
When she walked into Professor Cole's classroom, the seats were still mostly empty, the morning light streaming in diagonally through the tall windows. The scent of fresh chalk and old wood drifted through the air, grounding and strangely comforting.
Adrian was at his desk, adjusting his tie in the reflection of his laptop screen. He didn't notice her at first. But when he did, his expression shifted—not startled, not soft. Just…curious.
"You're early," he said, standing.
"I wanted to speak to you," Isabel replied, clutching her folder tightly against her chest.
He motioned for her to come forward. "Go on."
She walked closer than she needed to, as if proximity could give her courage. "There's something I didn't mention yesterday. My ex... Daniel. He's texting me again. Watching me."
His brows furrowed. "Did you report him?"
"No. Not yet." Her voice lowered. "He's careful. Makes it seem like I'm overreacting."
Adrian's jaw clenched, just slightly. "You're not."
She blinked at him.
He took a breath, stepping around the desk and closing the distance between them. He was taller than she remembered. The heat radiating from his body seemed to draw her in.
"Listen carefully," he said. "If he contacts you again, I want you to bring it straight to me. Don't think. Don't question. Just show me."
"Why?" Her voice trembled. "You're just my professor."
His gaze didn't waver. "You're my student. And he's a threat."
There was a pause. And in that pause, Isabel realized something dangerous: she felt safe with him. In a way she hadn't felt in years. In a way that made her crave more than just protection.
Meanwhile, across campus, Vanessa Cole walked with calculated grace. Her heels clicked against the tiles of the administration wing, her oversized sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes. She hadn't slept. Not really.
Her relationship with Zara had hit a wall. Not because they didn't love each other, but because hiding had become exhausting.
Vanessa was tired of pretending. Tired of her family not knowing. Of always looking over her shoulder. Of choosing dark alleys and underground bars over the light of day.
(JUST SO YOU KNOW VENESSA IS INTO GIRLS.)
She turned a corner and nearly ran into Jude.
"Whoa," he said, catching her by the arms before she could stumble.
Vanessa flinched. "Sorry."
Jude smiled. "It's okay. Didn't think you were the type to sprint through the admin building."
"I wasn't. I'm late for a meeting." She glanced at him. "You're Isabel's roommate, right?"
He nodded. "And unofficial therapist."
Vanessa arched a brow. "She needs one of those?"
He hesitated. "Let's just say… she's been through things."
Vanessa took a moment to really look at him. Jude had a calm, disarming aura. The kind of guy who'd wait with you in silence just so you didn't feel alone. She liked that. Too much.
"Maybe I'll borrow your services sometime," she said coolly, before striding past him.
Jude watched her walk away, an amused, curious smile tugging at his lips.
Later that day, Isabel met Adrian again—this time in his office.
There was no one else around. The hallway had emptied, and the afternoon sun cast golden hues across the hardwood floor.
He motioned for her to sit, but she remained standing, eyes scanning the rows of books behind his desk. Her fingers touched a leather-bound copy of The Art of War.
"Fitting," she said, half to herself.
Adrian leaned against the edge of the desk. "Isabel."
She turned. "I can't do this."
He straightened.
She bit her lip. "This... feeling. This pull. It's not normal. You're older. My professor. I'm still figuring my life out. I don't even know who I am without the trauma."
Adrian didn't respond right away. He walked to the door and closed it quietly. Then he turned and met her eyes.
"I'm not asking you for anything," he said. "But I'm not blind either. I see you, Isabel. The real you. Behind the sarcasm. The strength. The wounds."
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. "I don't want to be seen."
"Liar," he said gently.
She let out a shaky laugh. "You really shouldn't call your students liars, Professor."
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until there was barely space between them.
"And you shouldn't look at me the way you do."
Her breath caught. "How do I look at you?"
"Like you want me to lose control."
The air between them crackled. But neither moved. Not yet.
Because once that line was crossed, there would be no going back.
Across town, Daniel sat in a dimly lit apartment surrounded by cigarette smoke and empty beer cans. His laptop was open, displaying campus security footage.
He had friends in low places. People who owed him favors. One of them had access to cameras. And he'd seen Isabel enter Cole's office. Twice.
Daniel's smile was slow and venomous.
"Gotcha," he whispered.
Back on campus, Vanessa stood outside the art gallery where Zara was preparing for her exhibition.
She hesitated before entering. The place smelled of oil paints and turpentine. Music played low in the background. Zara was perched on a ladder, adjusting a canvas.
She looked down and froze. "Vanessa?"
Vanessa nodded, arms crossed. "Just came to see if you still existed."
Zara climbed down slowly. "You haven't answered my calls."
"I needed time."
"To decide if I'm worth ruining your family image over?"
Vanessa flinched.
Zara stepped forward. "I'm not asking you to come out, Ness. Just don't treat me like a shadow you can turn off."
Vanessa looked away. "I'm tired."
"Then rest with me. Don't run."
It was the first time in weeks Vanessa felt herself soften. But the world outside the gallery still loomed. And her brother—Adrian—had secrets of his own unraveling.
They stood in silence, two women at war with the world, and with themselves.
That night, Isabel sat by the campus fountain alone. The stars were out, clear and quiet, as if offering her peace.
Adrian appeared without warning, footsteps soft.
"I shouldn't be here," he said.
She looked up. "Neither should I."
He sat beside her. "We're both stubborn."
She smiled. "And lonely."
He looked at her, truly looked. "Do you want this? Honestly?"
She hesitated. "I want to stop being afraid."
Adrian reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"Then let me show you what it feels like not to be."
End of Chapter 4