It could be anyone.
The academic world was full of scholars who traveled between countries and institutions, especially at this level. There was no reason for my thoughts to drift toward one particular name simply because yesterday had already unsettled me more than expected.
Still, the possibility lingered, and for one weak moment, I allowed myself to imagine it. Hayden in this hallway. Hayden stepping into the position of authority that had opened so suddenly. Hayden turning the life I had built within these walls uncertain with nothing more than his presence.
The thought pulled me backward before I could stop it, back to lecture halls, office doors, lowered voices, and the old imbalance between us. Once again, he would stand above me in a way the world could excuse. Once again, he would be my superior.
The realization left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I shook the thought away before it could settle any deeper.
No.
That was impossible.
He had his own life, his own career, a future that had been moving somewhere far from mine the last time I had heard anything about him. He would not leave all of that behind to become part of my world again. Maybe he had already returned to it, to the life he had chosen, to the version of himself that had existed after me.
Then again, a voice in my mind reminded me that Hayden Stone had never lived his life according to predictable patterns. I forced myself to breathe normally.
“It’s probably nothing,” I said, more to myself than to Giselle.
She tilted her head, watching me with mild curiosity. “What’s probably nothing?”
“Nothing important,” I said, offering a small smile before glancing toward the lecture hall where my first class would begin soon.
Students were already gathering near the door, their voices rising above the general commotion in the corridor. Whatever chaos the administration was dealing with this morning would have to wait. My life here had never depended on anyone else’s arrival. At least that was what I had believed until yesterday. And yet, as I gathered my notes and prepared to begin the lecture, the suspicion refused to disappear entirely. A new dean from the United States. The coincidence lingered in the back of my mind, unsettling in a way I could not yet explain.
The bell rang before I could linger on it any longer. Students began moving toward the lecture halls in the usual morning flow, their voices blending into the steady rhythm of campus life. I adjusted the folder of notes beneath my arm, secured my tablet against it, and walked toward the auditorium where my first lecture was scheduled.
The moment I stepped inside, routine returned. The large lecture hall was already filling with students settling into their seats, notebooks opening, conversations fading when they noticed me entering. A few greeted me casually. Others lifted their heads briefly before returning to their materials.
Teaching always brought me back to myself. In front of a class, I had a purpose to hold on to, and for a while, it kept me grounded.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning, Professor Rhodes,” several voices answered.
“Today we continue our discussion on the history of the English language,” I began, turning slightly toward the screen as the first slide illuminated behind me. “Last week we explored the Germanic roots of Old English and the linguistic foundations that shaped the language before the Norman Conquest. Today we move forward into the Middle English period and examine how historical change reshapes language itself.”
As I spoke, the familiar cadence of teaching slowly steadied my thoughts. The evolution of language had always fascinated me—the way centuries of history lived inside words we still use today.
I was explaining the linguistic consequences of the Norman invasion when a soft knock sounded at the auditorium door. The interruption was unusual, drawing several students’ attention. The door opened and the head of the department appeared, her expression apologetic.
“Professor Rhodes,” Mrs. Harrington said from the doorway. “Could you come to my office for a moment?”
I paused mid-sentence.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“The dean’s office asked for you.”
The words immediately unsettled me.
“The dean?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
