After my shower, I found myself glancing toward the guest room door, unable to stop myself. She hadn’t dried her hair, and with the chill in the air, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right.
I grabbed the hair dryer, my fingers feeling almost mechanical as I plugged it in. My mind raced, thoughts swirling as I stood there, debating whether I should just leave her to sleep or do something. But something in me couldn’t ignore it. She was here, in my house, and I hadn’t even checked if she was okay.
I pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
She was asleep, her face a little damp with the traces of tears. Her hair clung to her cheeks, and she looked so fragile, so small, curled up in the bed like a helpless child. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the way she looked. I felt a pang in my chest, something that made me hesitate, unsure whether I should just leave her or stay.
For a moment, I stood there, just watching her, feeling the weight of the silence in the room. The soft sound of her breathing, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, was oddly calming. But beneath all that calmness, I could feel the storm she was holding back. It was there, in the trembling of her lips, the subtle quiver in her jaw, even in her sleep. It made my chest tighten.
I shook my head, pushing away the unwanted thoughts. I wasn’t here to get lost in whatever strange feeling she stirred in me. I had to help her, just help her and leave it at that.
I knelt beside the bed and gently plugged in the dryer. The soft hum of it filled the space, but it didn’t seem to bother her. I reached forward, brushing a few strands of her damp hair away from her face, my fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. Her hair was soft, so soft it felt like silk between my fingers.
Slowly, I began to dry her hair, the warmth from the dryer easing the dampness out. I kept my movements slow and careful, not wanting to wake her. But as I worked, I couldn’t help but notice the faint tremble in her lips, the way her cheeks glistened with the remnants of her tears.
Something inside me twisted painfully at the sight. I’d seen her fight so hard to stay strong today, and yet here she was, vulnerable in her sleep, holding onto something that was clearly too much for her to carry alone.
I caught myself trying to keep my breathing steady, forcing the guilt that rose within me back down. She was still holding it all in, even here, even when she thought she was alone. Whatever storm she was fighting, it wasn’t letting her go not even here, in the quiet of my home.
The thought made my throat tighten. She didn’t deserve this, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven her to this point. Was I part of it? Had I caused some of the pain she was carrying around? The questions hung in the air, unanswered.
I finished drying her hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but when I saw her face again, I couldn’t deny how much it hurt. Seeing her so broken, even in the silence of her sleep, made me want to do something, anything, to take away whatever it was that was hurting her.
But for now, all I could do was watch her, my hand hovering over her hair for a moment before I let it fall to my side. The room felt heavier now, thick with all the unspoken emotions swirling between us.
I quietly backed away, not wanting to disturb her any longer, but something told me I wouldn’t be able to today’s day
Elena POV
As the door clicked shut, I slowly opened my eyes, my mind still foggy from sleep. For a moment, I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing Professor Blackwood standing there, drying my hair. But the warmth in my hair and the faint scent of his cologne still lingered, making it clear that it had really happened.
I sat up slowly, my head heavy, trying to shake off the dazed feeling. The room was quieter now, and the hum of the hair dryer was just a memory. Professor Blackwood had been so careful, almost too careful, as if he was afraid of waking me. But why? He was my professor, and I was just his student. It didn’t make sense for him to act like that.
My fingers brushed through my dry hair, the soft strands still warm from his touch. It was strange, new feeling, the way he had moved around me so gently. But why had he done it? But the way his hands had glided through my hair, the way his eyes had lingered on me… it felt different, like something more than just a teacher and student.
I shifted uneasily, trying to push the thoughts away. This wasn’t right. He was my professor. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by something that felt so out of place.
But the feelings were there, bubbling up in the pit of my stomach, something I had never experienced before. It was new, unknown, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t used to feeling like this. I wasn’t used to someone paying such close attention to me, especially not someone like him.
I wasn’t used to needing anyone, and certainly not like this. It felt like my emotions were being pulled in directions I couldn’t control. Adrian had always been distant, professional-nothing like the man who had stood over me, drying my hair with such care.
I pressed my palms against my cheeks, trying to stop the rush of emotions. He had been kind to me, more kind than anyone had been in a long time. And that kindness made me feel vulnerable, like I was being seen for the first time. I wasn’t used to this feeling, and it was unsettling.
I looked toward the door, half expecting him to return, but I knew he wouldn’t. I didn’t know what I wanted from him or why I felt this strange pull toward him. I had no right to feel anything more than what he had given me. He was my professor. I was just his student.
I hugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to ground myself. But my thoughts kept racing. I hated this feeling, this uneasiness , this new emotion I couldn’t name. It scared me because it made me feel exposed, like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t control.
I reminded myself he was just being polite, just being the professional he always was. That was all it could be. He didn’t feel anything for me.
But why did it feel so real? Why did it feel like he cared, even just a little bit?
I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. I needed to focus. I couldn’t let myself fall into something that could never happen.