Whatever line had once stood between us had lost its meaning years ago. The university could not be blamed anymore. Neithercould my title, her old place in my class, or the rules we had already broken long before she ran. We were two grown adults now, standing on equal ground, and I was tired of watching her act as though the past still gave her a reason to keep me at arm’s length.
What happened in Washington had happened under pressure, with eyes everywhere and consequences waiting around every corner. Wanting her back then had felt as though I was putting my hand into fire and refusing to pull away. Now the fire was still there, only sharper, because nothing stood between us except the fear she kept feeding.
And she still behaved as though I was a thing she could lock out of her life if she tried hard.
Bullshit.
The lines that once mattered had been crossed a long time ago. Years had passed, names had changed, lives had been rebuilt, and the hunger between us had survived as a wound that refused to close. Calling it a mistake would not make it cleaner. Pretending distance had fixed it would not make it true. What lived between us had not died. It had waited.
The engagement was gone. Alessia was gone with it, along with that pathetic arrangement that had chained me to a future I never wanted. That part of my life had rotted long before it ended, and I had no interest in dragging its corpse into anything that still mattered. Alessia had mistaken obligation for permanence. That was her mistake, not mine.
Edwina was the only thing that had ever felt real.
And still, she avoided me.
That was what got under my skin. Her silence. The way she turned fear into distance and then tried to call it control. Ignoring me would not weaken what was already buried too deep in both of us. Unanswered messages and locked doors would never be enough to keep me out. They wouldn’t.
Her stubborn refusal settled beneath my ribs and twisted into something darker than anger. I needed the truth from her. Every lie stripped away until she had nothing left to hide behind. Most of all, I needed her to stop looking at me like I was the danger when she was the one who had walked back into my reach and expected me not to fucking notice.
She was mine once.
A part of her still was.
And I was done pretending I could stand aside while she tried to bury that too.
By the time I reached the classroom, the anger had sharpened into something cold enough to cut. On the surface, I looked composed. Underneath, my thoughts were turning vicious, because I was getting real fucking tired of watching Edwina pretend she could erase me by refusing to look at me.
I stepped inside.
The room was full, the lecture already in progress. Students sat facing the front, notebooks open, faces turned toward the professor. Then I entered, and the air changed. Heads lifted. Voices died. A few students glanced at me before quickly looking away, smart enough to understand that whatever had brought me there had nothing to do with them.
I did not waste my attention on any of it. My gaze went straight to the seat where Edwina should have been.
Empty.
For a moment, I stared at it, my jaw tightening as the absence hit harder than it should have. She had done it again.
A bitter laugh almost crawled up my throat. She still did not understand. Worse, she kept pretending she did.
She could ignore my calls, dodge me in hallways, and run from any conversation that threatened to drag the truth out of her. None of that changed the fact that whatever lived between ushad never fucking ended. It had gone quiet, buried itself deep, and waited.
After touching her again, tasting her again, seeing her body betray every lie she tried to hide behind, distance was no longer an option. Polite detachment could go to hell. I was not going to stand aside while she fed me this cold little act and expected me to swallow it.
I stayed near the doorway, staring at the empty chair as my thoughts darkened around everything she had stirred in me. Yesterday had cracked something open, and she knew it. That was why she had run. She felt too fucking much and hated herself for it.
I was finished with her careful little dance. The avoidance, the locked doors, the unanswered messages, all of it had started to piss me off in ways I no longer cared to soften. Edwina was mine to confront. Mine to love. Mine to fuck. Mine to drag back into the truth when she kept running from it.
When the lecture paused, I moved forward.
The professor noticed me first. Then the students did. The room tightened around my presence, curiosity flickering across their faces, but I ignored all of them. Let them watch now and whisper later.I did not give a fuck.
My voice came out even, sharp enough to make the question land harder than it should have.
“Where is Professor Rhodes?”
The lecturer turned toward me, unsuspecting, completely fucking blind to what sat beneath my question. To him, this was ordinary. One colleague asking about another. A harmless exchange in the middle of a lecture. Nothing worth noticing.
“She took the day off,” he said easily.
