Daniel’s POV.
The lecture hall buzzed with the low murmur of students chatting as they trickled in, their conversations blending into a steady hum. Laughter echoed off the high walls, bouncing between the rows of seats as backpacks were dropped, notebooks opened, and phones checked.
I stood at the front of the room, scrolling idly through my notes on the screen, pretending to be completely uninterested in the chaos around me. I kept my expression neutral, my posture calm, as though I wasn’t paying attention to the noise or the people. My focus wasn’t on them-not really. At least, that’s the lie I kept telling myself.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push my thoughts away from this morning. From Aria. From the way she had looked at me when I told her to get in the car. Her eyes were so distant, like she didn’t even recognize me. Like I was nothing but a stranger. Worse, like she didn’t want to recognize me. That look had stayed with me all day, replaying in my mind when I least expected it. It gnawed at me, a bitter ache I couldn’t shake off.
Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was easier if she didn’t see me the way she used to.
I cleared my throat, trying to force the memory out of my head. It didn’t help. The last few students shuffled into the room, taking their seats as the chatter began to die down. A group of girls in the front row giggled, their laughter light and playful as they leaned toward each other. I noticed the way their eyes flicked toward me, followed by quick whispers that I didn’t try to decipher. One of them twisted a strand of hair around her finger, her smile lingering as her gaze settled on me a little too long.
This wasn’t new. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed this kind of attention, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. I wasn’t blind to the way some of my students looked at me-especially the younger ones. The ones who clearly thought their wide eyes and coy smiles might make me slip, that their charm could distract me. Most of the time, I ignored it. I wasn’t interested, and I didn’t need the complications. But today was different. Today, I let it slide. In fact, today, I welcomed it.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice brisk and steady as I addressed the room. The chatter stopped almost immediately, all eyes turning toward me. I let a small, controlled smile tug at the corner of my mouth-not warm, not inviting, but just enough to hold their attention. “I hope everyone’s caught up on last week’s readings because we’re diving straight into the material today. No excuses.”
The lecture went smoothly-at least on the surface. My voice was steady, my pacing even, and the students were attentive. But underneath that calm exterior, my thoughts kept drifting. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind always circled back to Aria. To the way her voice had trembled when she said, He’s not my boyfriend. To the way her lips pressed together, tight and tense, like she was bracing herself for something she didn’t want to face.
I hated that I cared. Hated that her words had dug so deeply under my skin. Hated that her doubt clung to me like a weight I couldn’t shake. She shouldn’t have that kind of power over me, but she did, and it was infuriating.
“Professor?”
The voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the present. I looked up to see one of the girls from the front row-a brunette with striking green eyes and a smile that practically dripped with confidence. She tilted her head slightly, her pen poised over her notebook like she wanted to appear engaged.
“Yes?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral and professional.
“I was just wondering if you could explain that last point again,” she said, her voice soft and syrupy, with just the faintest hint of playfulness. “I want to make sure I really understand it.”
Her friends giggled behind her, and I caught the way she leaned forward just a little, her posture casual but deliberate. Her blouse shifted slightly as she moved, the neckline just low enough to make her intentions clear. It was all calculated-every word, every movement. Normally, I would have shut it down with a curt reply, letting her know that her tricks wouldn’t work on me.
But today was not normal.
“Of course,” I said smoothly, stepping closer to the edge of the desk. I let her think she had my attention, though my tone remained measured. “Which part didn’t you understand?”
Her eyes lit up, her smile widening as she launched into a question that was unnecessarily complicated. It was a performance, not a real inquiry, and we both knew it. Still, I answered her patiently, ignoring the way her smile grew with every word. I ignored the way she tilted her head just so, the way her fingers brushed the edge of her notebook like she was trying to draw my focus there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something-or rather, someone. Near the back of the room, half-hidden behind the door, stood Aria. She wasn’t in the room, not really, but she was watching. Her eyes were fixed on me, her expression unreadable.
She was watching.
Good.
I leaned casually against the desk, letting the conversation with the brunette drag on longer than it needed to. She laughed at something I said-something that wasn’t remotely funny-and I smiled faintly, just enough to keep her talking. It wasn’t about her. It was about making sure Aria saw.
When the lecture finally ended, I dismissed the class and gathered my things slowly, giving the students time to file out. The brunette lingered, of course, her friends hanging back near the door as she approached me again.
“Thanks for explaining that, Professor,” she said, her voice lower now, softer. “You’re really good at breaking things down. I appreciate it.”
“Part of the job,” I replied, keeping my tone cool but polite.
She hesitated, her smile faltering slightly, like she was trying to decide if she wanted to say more. But I didn’t give her the chance. I turned away, nodding at a few other students as they left.
When I glanced back toward the door, Aria was gone.
The diner was quiet when I walked in, the usual hustle and bustle of the lunch rush having long since passed. The air was still, save for the faint clinking of dishes being cleared and the low hum of conversation from a few scattered patrons.
My eyes swept the room instinctively, and I spotted her immediately-Dr. Jackie Hart, my colleague from the English department. She was seated in a booth near the large window, sunlight spilling in and framing her in a warm glow. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched neatly on her nose as she scrolled through her phone. Everything about Jackie was composed, polished, and deliberate, just like she always was.
Jackie was sharp, confident, and, if I was being honest with myself, undeniably stunning. Her presence commanded attention without effort, the kind of beauty that came with self-assurance. But as striking as she was, she didn’t have Aria’s softness. Jackie lacked that quiet vulnerability that Aria carried, the kind that made me want to shield her from the world, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Aria’s presence was chaotic-she made me feel like I was unraveling, like I was losing control of something I didn’t know I was holding on to. Jackie, on the other hand, was the opposite. She was safe. She was predictable. With Jackie, there was no risk of losing myself. And maybe that was why I was here.
“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” I said as I slid into the booth across from her, my voice casual as I tried to push the thoughts of Aria out of my head.
Jackie looked up from her phone, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Not at all,” she said smoothly, sliding her phone into her bag. “I just got here a few minutes ago.” Her voice, like her demeanor, was calm and measured, every word carrying just the right amount of warmth.
Before either of us could say more, the waitress appeared at the edge of the table, a notebook in hand. We placed our orders quickly-Jackie asking for a salad, me for coffee and whatever special was still available-before the waitress disappeared again, leaving us alone. Jackie leaned back in her seat, her arms resting comfortably on the edge of the table as she studied me with that sharp, perceptive gaze of hers.
“You look… tense,” she said after a moment, her eyebrow arching slightly. Her tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity in her voice. “Rough morning?”
“You could say that,” I replied, mirroring her posture as I leaned back in my seat. My tone was intentionally vague, but the slight tightness in my jaw must’ve given me away. “It’s been one of those days.”
Jackie smirked, tilting her head slightly as she rested her chin on her hand. “Well, I hope you’re not planning to brood through lunch,” she teased, her voice carrying just enough playfulness to ease the tension. “I could’ve eaten alone if I wanted that kind of company.”
Her words caught me off guard, breaking through the heaviness in my chest, and I found myself smirking back despite the morning that still lingered in my mind. Her teasing tone was disarming, a welcome distraction from the thoughts I couldn’t seem to let go of. “I’ll try to keep the brooding to a minimum,” I replied dryly, the faintest hint of amusement coloring my voice.
The conversation shifted easily after that, as it always did with Jackie. She had a knack for steering things away from anything too personal, keeping the mood light and professional without making it feel forced. She was good at this-good at making you forget, at least for a little while, whatever it was that weighed you down. It was exactly what I needed, or at least exactly what I thought I needed.
Jackie laughed at something I said, her laugh low and smooth, and for a moment, I was able to match her ease. Her hand brushed lightly against mine across the table as she reached for her drink, the touch brief but intentional. She didn’t linger, didn’t push, just left enough space for me to decide how much to engage. It was deliberate, just like everything else she did.
But even as I sat there, playing along, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if Aria was somewhere on campus right now, thinking about me the way I was thinking about her. Was she replaying our last conversation in her head the way I was? Was she angry? Hurt? Or was she trying to ignore me completely, to pretend I didn’t exist?
I hated how much I wanted to know.
Jackie said something, her voice light and teasing, and I responded automatically, offering a faint smirk in return. But my heart wasn’t in it. My thoughts kept drifting back to Aria, to the way she made me feel like I was losing control of everything I’d worked to keep together. Jackie didn’t make me feel that way-didn’t make me feel like my world was tilting on its axis. And that was supposed to be a good thing.
Wasn’t it?
If ignoring Aria was the only way to make her understand that she wasn’t the only one in my world, then so be it. If I had to act like she didn’t consume my thoughts just to prove a point, then I’d do it. But sitting here, pretending I didn’t care, pretending Jackie was enough to keep my attention-it felt hollow.
And yet, I stayed.