4

Elizabeth's pov

My heart had stopped, I was sure of it.

Sebastian Gray. Standing there in a tailored tuxedo, the sun glinting off the silver in his cufflinks, his hand steady around my mother’s waist. He looked every bit the groom, composed, polished, and deeply familiar.

I told myself to breathe, even though it was hard. To pretend, to act like I didn’t know what his skin felt like against mine. Like I hadn’t cried out his name just beneath the weight of his hand gripping my hair.

Our eyes met. But he didn’t say anything else. Not with my mother beaming beside him, her arm looped tightly through his like she owned him.

And maybe she did.

The ceremony went on in a haze. Vows exchanged. Laughter. A soft kiss between the two. Applause. I clapped too, my hands numb, the gift box digging into my palms.

I kept my distance at the reception, lingering by the buffet and dodging my mother’s gaze. Sebastian didn’t approach me right away. But I felt him watching me.

Every damn second.

His gaze burned the back of my neck even when I wasn’t facing him. Like a branded memory I couldn’t erase.

I tried to pretend. I smiled politely when guests asked who I was. I drank tiny portions, stayed far from the dance floor. But it was impossible to forget. The night I had given myself to him. The night I had begged him not to stop.

I kept walking, because I felt suffocated. I figured that if I went away from the crowd then I would feel slightly better. Turning a corner, I found him there. Alone.

"Miss Walters,” he said,

I swallowed hard. “Professor.”

“Elizabeth,” he corrected.

“I think ‘Miss Walters’ suits us better,” I said tightly.

He took a step closer. I stepped back.

“This isn’t uh.....” I started.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “When I met your mother. I had no idea she was....”

“My mother,” I finished.

We stood in silence, the soft hum of music drifting from the garden behind us. His eyes were the same. Dark. Commanding. And they hadn't changed, not even now, not even as they trailed down the neckline of my dress before snapping back to my face.

“I remember every second of that night,” he said.

“Don’t.” My voice cracked. “Don’t you dare say that. We agreed it was just one night.”

“I didn’t agree to forget.”

I closed my eyes. “Well, I did.”

My hand trembled as I pressed it to his chest. “Forget me. Forget that night. I don’t want to ruin my mother’s happiness. She doesn’t have much. Please..... just leave me alone.”

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t touch me.

He only nodded,

"As a logical man, it is the logical thing to do."

But something in his eyes told me that he was lying.

And I fled.

I didn’t say goodbye to my mother. I didn't stay for cake or photos or dancing. I caught a night bus out of town, my heart hammering with guilt and confusion as I journeyed the road.

I promised myself something as I stared out that window.

I wouldn’t be the villain in my mother’s fairytale. She may not have treated me as a daughter, or given the attention, or warm hugs, but in her own little way she loved me.... somewhat. And I wouldn't want to do this to her.

_____

Senior year came faster than expected.

I returned to campus, locked down my emotions, and focused on my final workload. Avoidance became a skill. I reminded myself that whatever happened last year had been buried and sealed.

Until I saw my class schedule.

PHL 602: Applied Ethics and Thought

Instructor: Professor Sebastian Gray.

My chest tightened. I immediately headed to the department office.

“I need to switch professors,” I told the clerk.

“Why?” she asked.

“Conflict of interest,” I lied.

She typed something, then frowned. “Your name was specifically requested for Professor Gray’s class. There’s no open seat in the others.”

I blinked. “He.....requested me?”

She nodded, distracted. “Um, you are listed on his priority roster.”

My throat went dry. I turned without another word and walked out, holding the paper in my hand like it had slapped me.

My fingers crumpled the paper as I marched down the faculty wing.

I would tell him, calmly, professionally, that this was a mistake. That I needed to be moved. Whatever twisted reason he had for doing this, it wasn’t okay.

When I turned the corner, I saw a familiar face. Jennifer was there.

Perched on the edge of the leather bench outside his office door, flipping through her phone like she owned the hallway. Her heels were impossibly high. Her lip gloss is a violent red.

When she looked up and saw me, her smile spread like rot.

“Well, well,” she said, standing slowly. “Didn’t know you were majoring in coming to this part of the college wing now.”

I said nothing.

"Ethan says hi by the way," she chuckled.

I stepped past her, ignoring her smirk. I knocked once before pushing the door open.

Professor Gray looked up from his desk, one hand around a pen, the other resting against his temple.

He didn’t look surprised.

“Miss Walters,” he said evenly, setting the pen down. “I figured you’d come.”

I closed the door behind me and stood stiffly in front of his desk.

“You had no right to put me on that class list,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Technically, I did.”

“Sebastian....Professor Gray, what do you want from me?”

He leaned back, eyes locked on mine.

“I want you in my class."

“No,” I snapped, voice low and sharp. “I told you that night meant nothing. I told you to forget. I left because it was wrong.”

“I haven’t touched you since,” he said.

“That’s not the point.”

His eyes darkened. “Then tell me what it is.”

“I’m trying to move on,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “I came back here to finish school. To get my degree. Not to be stared down by the man who....who slept with me and married my mother.”

His jaw tensed, just slightly. “I didn't know....I met her months after we...."

I shook my head.

“You didn’t have to request me for your class.”

He stood.

I took a step back.

“I requested you,” he said, voice low, “because you’re brilliant. And because after all of it, I still can’t forget you. Even when I know I should.”