Elizabeth's POV

It didn't take long before the news had spread on our class channels, and it wasn't long after when Jennifer posted a photo on her Instagram, with the caption:

“Snatching another hottie”

And Ethan followed, because of course he did, reposting it to his own story with a dripping-wet emoji like it was some kind of achievement.

I stared at it for a few seconds. The comments were pouring in, laughing emojis, inside jokes I wasn't part of anymore, heart reacts.

I exited the department channel. I didn’t defend myself or respond.

What was the point?

People had already picked a side.

I switched off my phone and tucked it into my jacket. My hands clenched at my sides as I sat there on the campus bench, the cold metal seeping through my tights.

I could still hear Ethan’s voice in my head, the way he’d called me a leech, the way Jennifer had walked out like she had won a trophy.

Maybe she had.

My GPA wouldn’t protect me from public humiliation. My perfect attendance record wouldn’t erase the image of me being thrown into the hallway, crying like a child, in front of an audience of vultures.

I was spiraling, slowly losing my mind because of who......Ethan.

"He doesn't deserve me," I whispered quietly to myself.

“He doesn’t deserve me,” I whispered again, louder this time, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

The wind picked up, and with it came a sharp sting behind my eyes. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. Not again, I wouldn't cry for a man who didn’t even flinch when he broke me.

"Neon lights,"

It wasn't far from where I stood. I hadn't gone to a bdsm club before, which this obviously was. But I wanted to feel pain, I wanted to feel relief at the same time too, for atleast.....just for one night.

____

I took the first step before I could talk myself out of it. My heels clicked on the pavement like a slow drumroll to something reckless and irreversible.

The sign for NEON LIGHTS flickered ahead, blood red, violet, and wicked. The kind of place people whispered about in the dorm bathrooms, daring each other to visit but never actually going.

I wasn’t one of those girls tonight.

I walked up to the door, past the bouncer who barely glanced at my ID before waving me through. The heavy bass of deep house music pulsed under my skin, matching the beat of my anxiety.

The moment I stepped inside, the world changed.

It was all black leather, dim lighting, glinting chains, and bodies that moved like liquid shadows. Red ropes. Silver cuffs. People laughing with their mouths but staring with their eyes.

I wasn’t as scared as I assumed that I would be. I was.....relieved.

No one here cared who I was. No one knew what had happened hours ago. In here, I wasn’t Elizabeth Walters, the overachieving senior who got dumped and humiliated. I was just a girl in a black dress. A stranger looking to disappear.

I made my way to the bar and ordered something strong, vodka, skull kunk to be precise. It burned beautifully down my throat. I didn’t wince.

And then I saw him.

At the far end of the bar, standing like he owned the place. A black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, lean but powerful. He was older. Way older than any guy I had ever looked at twice. But he wasn’t just handsome, he was intense. Sculpted jaw, sharp eyes, one hand resting on his glass, the other tucked in his pocket like he had nowhere else to be.

He looked expensive and very familiar. Sebastian Gray. A professor at Ghee university, my university.

The enigma, the man she had a crush on just like the majority of the students, both male and female. She liked him for so long before she met Ethan, thinking her emotions had withered away.

But seeing him now.....here, of all places.

He hadn’t seen me yet, thank God. I stayed frozen for a second too long, my fingers curled around the rim of my glass.

Professor Gray. The youngest in the department. Always in tailored shirts and unreadable expressions. He taught Ethics and Logic with the kind of voice that made silence feel indulgent. Nobody knew much about him , only that he was rich, brilliant, and never lingered after class.

The kind of man who made you sit straighter just by walking into the room. The kind of man I used to imagine touching me in ways no textbook ever could. And now here he was, standing like temptation incarnate in a place where rules didn’t matter.

My first instinct was to leave. To vanish into the background and forget I ever saw him.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I looked straight at him.

And then, he looked back.

It was subtle, like he had already known I was there. His gaze found mine in the dark. Not like a teacher spotting a student. His brows barely twitched, but I saw it. The recognition.

I turned away, grabbed my drink, and walked toward the back of the club. I didn’t want to be seen, not by him. Not like this, with scattered hair and bloodshot eyes. But I could still feel his gaze on me.

I slipped between bodies, into the red haze of the second room, trying to hide. I didn’t even see him approach me.

But I felt him. The heat of him at my back, the ghost of a breath just below my ear.

"You shouldn’t be here miss Walters," his voice murmured, low and rough, a whisper just meant for me.

I turned, heart stalling.

"I am a fully fledged adult, sir," I answered.

He stared at me for a long, unreadable moment.

And then he said, "So why are you here, Miss Walters?"

The sound of my name on his lips sent a current through me. It wasn’t gentle. It was sharp and commanding. I could lie. I could say anything. But I didn’t want to lie.

“Because I wanted to forget tonight. I don't know if you've seen the viral news about Ethan and.....”

"I have," His eyes flicked down to my dress, then back to my face. “Is that what you want?”

I nodded once. But it came out broken. “Just one night.”

His jaw clenched, his hand rising slowly, hesitating, and then brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was too soft for how intense he looked. For how tight his voice was when he said....

“It won't be your regular vanilla sex, miss Walters.”

Elizabeth’s POV

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating angrily on the nightstand.

I groaned, barely shifting, and instantly regretted it. A sharp pain flared between my thighs. I winced, biting down on a gasp as I turned to my side. Every movement reminded me of last night. Every throb, every ache, every bruised spot on my skin was a souvenir he had left behind.

Sebastian Gray.

God.

My phone vibrated again. I reached for it with a shaky hand, not to check the screen but to stop the noise. The sun shone through the slits in the curtain, casting soft shadows across the sheets.

The same sheets he had pinned me against. The same ones I had clawed at when he whispered filth into my ear while making me feel things I never knew my body was capable of.

I closed my eyes, reminiscing.

He had asked me if I was sure.

Twice.

And both times, I had said yes. Desperately. Like the answer had been waiting on my tongue since the first day I walked into his class and saw him leaning against his desk like he belonged to another era, untouchable, reserved, terrifyingly magnetic.

Last night, he touched every part of me I thought no one ever would.

I remembered the ropes, how tightly he had tied them, but never too tight. The way he had kissed my shoulder before bending me forward. The low, commanding tone he used when he told me not to look away from the mirror.

I had looked.

I had watched myself come undone under him. More than once.

And now I was sore.

I sat up slowly and dragged the sheet around me. The scent of him still clung to the pillow beside mine. He was gone, obviously. But he said I could leave whenever I wanted. That was the only goodbye I had gotten. Guilt rooted itself in my chest, embarrassment too. I had said and done things to that older man, how would I live it out?.

Considering that he worked in my university, but thankfully my department wasn't too close to his. I could avoid him.

The clock on the wall said 10:42 a.m.

I finally decided to check my phone.

Seventeen messages. Five missed calls.

Most of them were from unknown numbers. Probably classmates. Curious vultures wanting to know if the hallway drama was real. If I had more tears to offer. Unfortunately for the gossip queens, I did not.

____

After that night, things changed.

I didn’t post, didn’t party, didn’t attend a single campus event. I withdrew from the noise and tucked myself behind the fortress of my textbooks. I cut off the whispers with silence, and the rumors died faster than expected. People moved on, well I figured because in actuality college attention spans were short.

Except mine.

I pushed myself harder than I ever had before. My days became mechanical, rotating around class, library, work and sleep. I didn’t let myself feel anything, I didn't let myself remember. Not Ethan’s betrayal, and certainly not the way Sebastian Gray had held me like I was something he was allowed to break. And God help me, I had begged for it.

I buried the memories of that night under academic journals and problem sets. And slowly, painfully, it worked.

I ended my senior year with a GPA so clean it gleamed. My professors noticed. The dean noticed. And one afternoon, I got an email that changed everything:

“Congratulations. You’ve been awarded the Ellsworth Academic Excellence Grant. Your final year tuition is fully covered.”

I stared at the screen until the words stopped blurring. For the first time in months, I let myself smile. A genuine one.

Until the phone call.

It was during summer break. A year after my incident with Ethan. I was staying in my small off-campus apartment, drinking lukewarm tea and working on an early research proposal when my phone rang.

May.

I stared at the name like it belonged to a ghost. I hadn’t saved her number, but I knew it by heart. My mother never called. Never texted. Not even on birthdays.

Against every instinct, I answered.

“Hello?” My voice was stiff.

There was a pause, like even she was surprised I’d picked up.

“Elizabeth.”

That voice. May never sounded warm. She sounded like she had better things to do, even though she gave birth to me.

“I wasn’t expecting you to pick up,” she added, almost defensively.

“You called me,” I said flatly.

“Right.” Another pause. “I have some news. I’m getting married this weekend. Thought you should know.”

I blinked. “Married?”

“Yes. To a wonderful and proper man."

“I want you to come,” she continued. “It’s nothing fancy. Just something private at his estate. I think....I think it’s time you met him.”

I almost laughed. After years of silence, this was the bridge she chose to build?

But part of me, some cracked, desperate part, still wanted peace with her. So I agreed.

And three days later, I stood in the sunlit garden of an estate that looked like it had been cut out of a luxury magazine. Rows of white chairs. Lavender runners. Champagne in the hands of strangers. And me, awkward in a pale blue dress, hair pulled back, while clutching a gift I didn’t want to give.

I didn’t see the groom, my mother's husband until the ceremony began. When I caught sight of him, I had to rub my eyelids.... just to be sure.

He was tall. Broad. Perfectly put together. I had scratched his back, I had kissed his lips, I had rode his....

Sebastian Gray. My professor. My only one-night stand. My mother’s groom?

The world tilted and left me in some alternate reality.

He didn’t notice me at first. His hand was on May’s lower back, his face composed as ever. But then his eyes scanned the crowd and then stopped on me.

His hand tightened around my mother's back and his brow arched in surprise.

"Elizabeth," I could almost hear the murmur from his lips.