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."

Sebastian's pov

She dropped the towel on my car seat instantly and slid out, walking briskly to her apartment door.

I didn't call after her.

Because even without words, I could feel the war brewing inside her. Elizabeth Walters didn't slam doors or throw tantrums. No, she hid behind sharp remarks and tighter ponytails. But tonight, she was quiet.

She paused at the door, fumbling with her keys, her shoulders rigid beneath that soaked blouse. Her bag looked like it had absorbed half the rain in the city.

The keys dropped from her hand and hit the pavement. I saw it, the brief shake of her head, the quiet curse. She picked them up quickly and disappeared inside before I could get out of the car.

I didn't move. I stayed parked out front for another full minute, watching the faint silhouette of her light switch on behind the sheer curtain. Her figure moved past the window.

Then vanished.

I ran a hand down my face, letting my head fall back against the seat. What the hell was I doing?

She wasn't just another student. She was May's daughter. Complicated. Off-limits. But somehow, that night, our night, had ruined the logic I built my world around. And now, here I was, like a man begging to be burned all over again.

My phone buzzed.

May

"Are you home yet? I've made ginger tea. It's storming out. Drive safe."

I didn't reply. I didn't know what to type, I had told her that I was out getting a drink, she didn't know that I was right in front of her daughter's apartment.

When my parents brought up May's name in one of those 'family obligation' meetings, I didn't even recognize it at first. Not until they mentioned her debt.

Back then, I had barely even known her daughter existed.

They said I needed a stable front. That May needed protection. It was mutually beneficial. Legal. Clean.

No one said anything about the daughter. No one said she'd walk into my summer seminar last year, late on the first day, with messy hair and red ink on her fingers. That her eyes would make my entire world tilt and never quite settle back.

No one said she'd wreck my focus with one smile.

My phone buzzed again, May.

"Heavens, what does she-"

Elizabeth came out of her apartment, running, her eyes wide in fright.

"Did you see the text?"

I scrolled up and that was when I realized that the message I had read from May was sent hours earlier and another one sent thirty minutes from my house cleaner had been delivered.

May had fallen unconscious.

____

I had to drive there at the speed of light, Elizabeth sat in the front of the car seat, her left leg vibrating with anxiety, I kept glancing from my steering wheel to it.

I gripped the wheel tighter, the traffic inching forward at an agonizing pace. The wipers squeaked rhythmically, pushing the rain aside, but all I could hear was her breathing.

Elizabeth hadn't said much since she read the message, but her knee was bouncing relentlessly, her hand wringing her damp shirt like it owed her something.

"Elizabeth," I said gently, "breathe."

She didn't.

I glanced at her, then spoke more clearly. "If it were something serious....really serious...the cleaner would have said more than just 'May fell unconscious.' That message was vague. Which probably means she is stable now. She's been taken care of. Don't let your mind spiral."

She didn't respond at first, then finally muttered, "I got the same message. Word for word."

That surprised me. I thought she wasn't close to May. But now? She looked shattered.

"You're really worried about her?" I asked.

Her lips parted. "Yes. She's my mom. I have to be."

It wasn't said with warmth or affection. It was said to be like duty. Like a box she was taught to tick.

Without thinking, my hand left the steering wheel and moved to her thigh. I tapped it lightly. "You're shaking. Try to relax."

She flinched slightly at first, but didn't push me away. Just stared ahead, breathing harder.

"I don't know much about you," I admitted. "But my family did a background check before the.....match. Some details came up."

Her jaw tensed. I continued anyway.

"Your father left when you were what, fifteen?"

"thirteen," she corrected.

"Right. The report said he became an alcoholic."

I saw her hand curl into a fist on her lap.

"After he left," I continued carefully, "he was caught in a crossfire. A stray bullet. It wasn't targeted."

"Wasn't it?" she whispered bitterly.

I waited.

She turned toward me, slowly, like every word was sand in her mouth. "He wasn't always like that. He was warm. He laughed a lot. He made me pancakes every Saturday. And then.....she happened."

"Your mom?"

She nodded.

"She did something. I don't know what, exactly. But I heard them fighting. I heard him crying. The man who never cried. He started drinking after that. Got reckless. The night he died, he was drunk out of his mind. And she didn't even cry. Didn't even flinch."

I said nothing. I didn't want to interrupt the storm.

"Barely two months later, she had men coming over. Loud ones. Creepy ones. One of them, Joshua......" her voice broke, "He was fifty-two."

I froze. My fingers tightened against the leather steering wheel. I didn't want to ask, but I did.

"Did he...?"

She didn't answer. But the way her hands trembled was enough.

"I was fourteen," she whispered. "He didn't touch me. But he looked. Made disgusting comments. Stayed too long in the hallway when I walked to the bathroom. My mom.......she ignored it, told me I was being dramatic."

"She only cared about her beauty lines, her spa routines, and the men who bought her perfumes. So I studied. Hard. Earned my way out. Got scholarships. Paid my way. I stopped asking for hugs the day Dad died."

There was no tear in her eyes now.

"That's why I don't forgive her," she added quietly. "Because she never once asked me to."

We were quiet again. Traffic began to break up ahead.

I kept my hand on her thigh, firmer now. For support.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," I said finally. "But thank you for doing it anyway."

She said nothing.

But for the first time all night, her knee stopped shaking.

Elizabeth's POV

The cleaner's number had finally gone through, and she assured me that May was stable. The doctor had stopped by, checked her vitals, and advised rest and proper nutrition. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing close to what my racing heart had conjured.

But I was still worried.

So, when we stepped into Sebastian's penthouse, soaked from worry and the earlier rain, what I saw felt like a punch to the gut.

May.

Perched like a damn queen on the cream velvet sofa. One leg crossed lazily over the other, a wine glass poised in her hand, her lips stained the same shade of red as her nails. Her cleavage was on full display, like her shirt had lost a few too many buttons on the way here.

She didn't look sick. Or weak. Or anything close to what the word "unconscious" might suggest.

She looked.... annoyed.

"Elizabeth," she said flatly, barely hiding the distaste curling around her name. Her eyes flicked to Sebastian, then back to me. "Didn't expect you to be tagging along."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Sebastian was silent beside me.

"I thought you were......" I started.

"What?" she cut in with a soft laugh. "I just passed out for a second. Overworked. Probably stress." She waved the wine glass, like the sight of her stretched-out on his sofa in lingerie and silk was perfectly normal. "But I'm much better now."

I didn't miss the way her leg uncrossed, then re-crossed slower, deliberate. Or how her voice softened when she turned to him again. "You came quickly though, Sebastian. I wasn't expecting that."

My stomach twisted.

She had called him here. Not because she was unwell. But because she wanted him.

It wasn't a cry for help, it was a damn booty call.

Sebastian didn't move. His jaw ticked, but he said nothing.

I took a slow breath. "So you're fine?"

May sipped her wine and gave me a shrug. "Perfectly."

"Then I'll leave."

I turned, grabbing the doorknob before I lost the last shred of dignity holding my spine upright.

"Elizabeth," Sebastian called behind me.

But I didn't stop.

Not even when May's laughter trailed behind me, light and amused.

"Maybe knock next time, sweetheart," she purred. "You wouldn't want to walk in on something you're not ready to see."

____

I went outside, but that's when I realized that I would need a ride back, and it was still raining like crazy. I stood there near the gates, biting my fingernails, contemplating what to do next.

Gosh, I had no umbrella. No taxis. And not enough pride left to turn around and ask for a ride.

My phone screen was foggy, the signal bar pathetically blinking.

I hated how I could still hear her laugh in my ears. How casual she had been, draped over his furniture like she belonged there, like I was the intruder.

A clap of thunder rolled overhead. I blinked up at the sky, biting harder.

Why did it sting so much?

I had told myself this wasn't real. I had told myself Sebastian wasn't mine to want. But the sight of her, so comfortable in his home, in his world, made me feel like a stupid little girl chasing fantasies with bruised knees.

My heart jerked when the gates clicked open behind me. Footsteps.

"Elizabeth," his voice cut through the sound of the rain. "Don't be ridiculous. Get back in."

I didn't turn. "I'm not going back in there. She's your wife."

"I explained my arrangement with your mother, Elizabeth."

"She's in your clothes. In your house. Drinking your wine. You showed up the moment she snapped her fingers. If that's not a wife, then I don't know what is."

He came up beside me, not touching, just close enough that the heat from his body pulled mine in.

"Come inside at least, spend the night here. I can't drive under this rain and I can't let you leave under this rain either.

I wanted to be stubborn to say something, but as if on cue, lightning hit the ground a few inches from where I stood. He didn't even flinch but I already grabbed at my wet shoes and ran in.

"Just one night, thank you."

He closed the door behind me, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You seem to say that frequently these days." He leaned in, "just one night."

I got the memo, my cheeks involuntarily heating up. I wanted to ask him to quit it. But May interrupted me before I could get a word out.

"You haven't left yet?" The disappointment in her tone was obvious.

Her voice slithered from the living room like a snake slipping through silk.

I didn't even look her way. I was dripping water onto the marble floors, freezing from the cold.

Sebastian stepped around me, his hand briefly brushing the small of my back before he moved forward. It was small. Barely even a touch. But it grounded me.

"I told her to stay the night," he said flatly.

May let out a small scoff. "Of course you did."

"May," Sebastian warned,

"What?" she said, feigning innocence. "I just find it interesting that I black out, possibly from stress or exhaustion, and suddenly your little student, my daughter, shows up like some.....stray cat you just had to bring in."

I turned to her now. Slowly. "The only reason I came was because the cleaner said you were unconscious. I was worried. Foolishly, as it turns out."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Touching."

"Sebastian," I said, already highly irritated, "Where's the guest room?"

He nodded toward the left hallway. "Second door. Fresh sheets."

I gave him a grateful glance and turned to go, not sparing May another word.

But her parting shot still found its mark.

"You always did want what was mine, Elizabeth."

I paused mid-step.

"If this is about your past boyfriends, I was never interested in any of those pigs,"

She rolled her eyes and sipped from her cup.

"Some days I wish that you didn't even have me." My tone was bitter.

She was never there for me, broke the only one who was, abandoned him, even caused his death. And I hated the part of me that still cared about her.

"I should've went through with that abortion when I had the chance"

I turned to her. My nails digging into my palm.