It was about Hayden and me.
I reached my office without stopping and closed the door behind me, careful not to let it slam. For a moment, I stayed there with my hand on the handle, letting the silence settle around me. It should have felt like a wall between me and everything outside. Instead, it felt thin, breakable, and far too easy for the world to reach through.
A message waited on my phone. I knew who it was before I looked.
Mr. Bad Decision
Come to my office.
My fingers tightened around the phone as I read it. The message was simple, direct, and somehow still carried the same authority Hayden had always used so easily. Even through a screen, he knew how to make a command feel inevitable.
I set the phone down without answering.
Another message came a few minutes later.
Mr. Bad Decision
Edwina.
I stared at his name until the screen began to dim. Then the third message appeared.
Mr. Bad Decision
If you don’t come to my office, my little Flare, you won’t like the fucking consequences.
My pulse jumped despite myself. I locked the phone and turned it facedown on the desk, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.
Instead, I tried to work. I opened my laptop, pulled a stack of papers closer, and forced my attention onto anything that did not have his name attached to it. It did not help. My thoughts kept slipping back to Hayden, to the way he had looked at me, the things he had said, the questions he refused to let die.
A knock came at the door. Before I could answer, Giselle stepped inside and closed it behind her. One look at her face told me she had not come for small talk.
“I was going to call you again,” she said, walking closer. Her eyes moved over me with clear concern. “You disappeared yesterday, ignored my messages, and missed class. That is not like you, Edwina.”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said. The lie came out too easily, which somehow made it worse.
Giselle did not look convinced. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
She folded her arms, watching me for a moment. “Is this about him?”
The question hit too close.
“No.”
Giselle’s expression softened, though the worry did not leave her face. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I know that. But you do need to understand what’s happening outside this office.”
I looked away. “People are talking”
“Yes,” she said, her voice tightening. “And right now, they are talking about you and Dean Stone. They have noticed you going to his office. They saw you leave yesterday. Someone mentioned the parking lot this morning too.”
My stomach dropped. “The parking lot?”
“I don’t know what they saw,” she said quickly. “That’s the problem. They don’t need the truth to make a story out of it.”
I pressed my lips together, saying nothing.
Giselle stepped closer, lowering her voice. “This place feeds on things like this. It starts with whispers, then suddenly people are repeating versions of your life you don’t even recognize. I’m worried about you.”
