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."

Elizabeth's pov

I couldn't forget that night either, how he felt....how he made me feel. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Professor Gray, I am sorry but we have to, you're basically my step father and....I can't do this with you."

"Elizabeth...."

I didn't let him finish, I was already turning away, he didn't seem like he would transfer me....so I would do it myself.

____

Bullshit.

The departmental head was even more frustrating, according to them, student reassignment to professor Gordon, the other professor was full, and so....I was stuck with Sebastian.

And looking at my program slip, I had his class in few minutes.

"Attendance streak," I murmured, I couldn't miss his class even if I wanted to.

I found myself sitting in the back of his class, my notebook in front of me, his eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, a sinful smirk stretching on his lips.

But he turned to the white board and taught like I wasn't even there. And yet subconsciously I found myself leaning in.

A cough snapped me out of it,

Ethan.

His arm around Jennifer, his fingers tracing her thighs, his eyes smiling mockingly at me. In the past year I had ignored his existence, the rumours had died down but some people just couldn't help using it to get to me.

I looked away quickly, heart thudding, not because of Ethan, but because of how easy it had been to forget where I was.

For a moment, I had been leaning forward, my lips parted, legs crossed a little too tightly. All because of the way Sebastian...Professor Gray, how he spoke when he lectured. Controlled and firm. His voice like a slow pour of whiskey over ice. Dangerous and addictive.

And I hated that about myself. Hated how, despite everything, my body still remembered him.

Ethan chuckled lowly beside Jennifer, loud enough for me to hear. I didn't look his way, but I could feel it. The pointed stares. The smug little grins. Jennifer's high-pitched whisper followed:

"She's still obsessed with you Ethan. It's kinda sad."

I clenched my pen so tightly the plastic creaked. But I kept my eyes on the board, where Sebastian was scribbling a quote.

"Hey, lil b*tch..." Ethan whispered.

Professor Gray turned slowly and faced the class. "Thoughts?"

Hands shot up, discussions broke out. But his eyes drifted back to me.

I didn't speak. I didn't trust my voice to be steady, not when the memory of his breath on my neck still haunted me.

Class ended twenty minutes later. The room emptied slowly, students laughing and stretching, the usual post-lecture buzz. I packed my things carefully, trying not to rush, trying not to look like I was avoiding him, even though I absolutely was.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder, his voice stopped me.

"Miss Walters, a moment."

I froze. So did half the class. Eyes flicked toward me.

"Everything alright?" Ethan called from the door, mock concern in his voice. "You look pale. Should I walk you to the nurse?"

Jennifer giggled.

I didn't answer. I didn't even blink in his direction. I walked to the front of the room and waited until the door clicked shut behind the last student.

We were alone.

Sebastian leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows.

"That little stunt he pulled," he said, voice low and even, "will not happen again."

"I don't need you to protect me," I said sharply.

"I am not protecting you," he replied. "I'm protecting my classroom."

I let out a dry laugh. "Of course. Professionalism."

His eyes darkened. "If I wanted to be unprofessional, Elizabeth, I would've taken you apart with my mouth right there in the back row."

My breath caught.

His voice had dropped an octave.

I hated that he still had that effect on me.

"Please Mr Gray, be appropriate," I whispered.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he said.

"Like what.....I'm not looking at you anyway."

He smiled a bit, then reached his hands out, a strand of my hair curling around his smooth thick fingers.

"Your shampoo smells amazing."

I didn't flinch when he touched my hair. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should've stepped back, scolded him, reminded him for the hundredth time that this wasn't right.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stood there, frozen, while my skin burned where his fingers brushed the strands beside my cheek. He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a breath.

"Your perfume smells amazing too. Your scent is intoxicating, Elizabeth."

I blinked slowly. "You shouldn't be saying things like that."

"And yet," he murmured, "you're not stopping me."

He was right.

God, I hated that he was right.

My heart hammered in my chest, the air between us thick and charged, and I couldn't help but meet his eyes. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw gently, deliberately.

"This isn't fair," I whispered.

"It never was," he replied.

We stood like that for a moment, tethered by silence and memories neither of us wanted to speak out loud. His head dipped slightly, and mine tilted, just a little, an involuntary lean. His lips were a breath away from mine,

Knock knock.

A sharp rap at the door.

"Professor Gray? The 602B section is waiting outside. You're past the bell," someone called from the hallway.

Just like that, the tension snapped.

He pulled back instantly, the mask of professionalism sliding back over his face with seamless precision. I blinked twice, heart still racing, and stepped away.

"You should go," he said quietly, straightening his shirt cuffs.

I didn't say anything. I just nodded, adjusted the strap of my bag, and headed for the door.

But before I opened it, I turned slightly. "You said we shouldn't look at each other like that."

"I did."

"Then stop looking at me like you're still thinking about that night."

This was his game, quiet seduction.

He didn't have respect for my mother, I do not know why they married but he was hers now, not mine. He could never be.

Elizabeth's pov

Was it me or were his classes on my program list more frequent?.

It had been a hectic temptation with Sebastian being my professor. And it was harder when Mom called every two days and I would hear him in the kitchen, cooking for her, while he would be here, throwing subtle glances my way.

My interactions with him were often, which made it hard for me.

So as the last sets of students left the classroom, I came to a resolve to nib this bud for good.

"We need to talk," I said again, quieter this time, as the door clicked shut behind the last student.

Sebastian turned slowly from where he stood by the window, arms folding as he leaned back against the desk. His gaze settled on me.

I didn't stop walking until I was a safe few feet away, then exhaled. "I'm here to make something very clear."

He waited.

"I need things between us to be strictly platonic. Nothing more. Nothing suggestive. No looks, no subtle comments, no moments in empty hallways." My voice was firmer than I expected. "If you don't keep it platonic, I will ignore you with everything I have. I mean it."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I haven't touched you. I haven't even looked at you."

I narrowed my eyes. "You've looked."

His smile deepened, but he raised both hands in surrender. "Maybe once. Or twice. Accidentally."

I rolled my eyes and turned toward the door.

"Elizabeth."

I paused.

"If it's just about the classroom, I'll back off. But if it's something else, if it's something more, what exactly is the main problem?"

I closed my eyes, fingers tightening around my bag strap.

"My mom," I said finally. "It feels wrong doing this to her. She is happy. Or at least she thinks she is. And you're her husband. I can't....i won't, be part of something that makes me look like the villain."

Silence stretched between us. And then he spoke.

"She's not my wife. Not in the way you're thinking."

I turned slowly.

He straightened, arms unfolding. "It's a marriage of agreement. Not love. Not affection. Not even intimacy."

I stared at him, confused. "What?"

He nodded once. "May owes my family. A large sum. A mistake from years ago, something that could've destroyed her reputation if it got out. My parents made a choice, one I wasn't even part of, at first. I was getting older. She needed protection. They brokered a deal."

I felt my throat dry. "A deal?"

"She agreed to the marriage to cancel the debt," he said simply. "It wasn't romantic. It was calculated. We share a name and a roof when necessary. But I've never touched her. Not once."

I didn't know what to say. The walls I had built around myself started to splinter. Slowly.

"So if you're carrying guilt for something that doesn't exist," he continued, stepping closer, "you can put it down now."

"You're saying it's not real."

"I'm saying.......it's nothing compared to what is real between us."

My heartbeat echoed in my ears.

"Think about it," he said. "And if you still want distance after that......I'll give it."

I awkwardly thumped the strap of my bag pack. Did I even know what I wanted?

____

I tried to get a taxi, it was raining cats and dogs. I had checked the weather forecast earlier and they had informed me of a slight drizzle.

Slight drizzle indeed, I rolled my eyes as the rain soaked me thoroughly. I was desperately trying to flag down a cab to head back to my apartment.

"Fuck,"

I fucked my phone back into my pocket, zero service, zero chances of ordering Uber. I couldn't even talk to the shelter anyway and my books were probably soaked all through.

Not even an umbrella.

Heavens, why did it have to be me?

Just as I was about to fall to the curb on my knees in frustration. A luxury car pulled up.

Jennifer,

By her side was Ethan.

Just perfect.

Jennifer's window rolled down. Her hair was still dry, makeup still flawless, her lips curved in that vicious smile she wore like perfume.

"Need a ride?" she asked sweetly.

Next to her, Ethan leaned toward the window, arm draped over the seat. "You look like a drowned rat, Liz."

I didn't answer. My bag was heavy with water, my clothes clinging to my skin like second thoughts. I was cold. Wet. And standing there in the street, humiliated under the blinking street lamp.

"You good?" Jennifer asked again, fake concern dripping from her voice.

I nodded stiffly. "I'm fine."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, rolling the window up.

The car began to inch forward, the tires splashing water as it moved.

But before it could fully pull away, another car stopped just behind it. It was black and amazingly sleek.

The back door opened.

"Elizabeth."

Sebastian.

I blinked, caught between shock and relief, but too stubborn to admit either.

"You'll catch hypothermia," he said simply, like it was the most practical observation in the world.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

"Your lips are blue."

I didn't argue.

The other car ahead of us paused for a second, Jennifer watching in the mirror, Ethan's face barely turning, then it sped off, tires screeching just enough to show their spite.

I slid into the back seat without another word. The door closed behind me with a soft click. Warmth swallowed me instantly.

He handed me a towel.

"You always keep towels in your car?" I asked flatly, wiping my soaked face.

"I had a feeling."

"I'll take you home," he said.

I gave him my address, eyes fixed out the window. The city lights blurred behind the water sliding across the glass.

We drove in silence. But as we neared my apartment, he spoke again.

"You didn't ask how I knew where you were."

I glanced at him.

"You always walk this route after your last class," he said simply. "And you forgot your umbrella on Monday."

I stared at him, unsure of how I felt about that.

"It's not an obsession," he added. "It's an observation. You matter enough to me...to be noticed."