She tried to brush it off as nothing, a cousin, a childhood friend, her sister. There were so many reasons that could make sense. But none of them explained why he’d lied. "Family stuff," he’d said, way too quickly and too casually. And the timing, right after last night. It made her chest feel tight.
Just last night, he’d been standing in her doorway, his eyes filled with emotion, his voice shaking as he told her he loved her. He held her close, like she was sothing valuable, sothing real. So why keep secrets now?
When the professor walked in, it snapped her attention for a mont before it drifted again. His voice turned into background noise, the words blending together into a low hum. She found herself imagining Liam’s face when she’d replied that she loved him too. The way his eyes had gone wide. The way he had laughed, full of disbelief, and said, "I’m never leaving."
Her pen hovered above the page, not moving at all. What if she was wrong about him? What if she wasn’t?
"Ayla."
Her na cut through her fog. She blinked and looked up. The professor was staring right at her.
"Yes?" she said, a second too late.
He tilted his head slightly. "Maybe you’d like to answer the question?"
The room suddenly felt way too quiet. She looked around and noticed every pair of eyes was on her.
"I..." Her mind went blank, completely empty. "I’m sorry, sir. Could you repeat it?"
He didn’t repeat the question. Instead, he studied her for what felt like an eternity, his hands in his pockets, his gaze steady and not impressed.
"Ayla," he said slowly, "et in my office after the lecture."
A buzz of whispers rippled through the room. Her stomach dropped. She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushed. "Yeah, sure."
The girl next to her leaned in and whispered, "Are you okay?"
Ayla forced a nod, even as embarrassnt crept up her spine. She spent the rest of the class staring at her desk, pretending to take notes, her thoughts tangled in guilt, confusion, and a growing sense of dread.
******
The professor’s office slled faintly of old books and coffee, a mix that always felt comforting. Ayla stood outside the door for a mont, her heart racing, before she finally knocked softly.
"Co in," he called from inside.
She pushed the door open and stepped in.
"Take a seat," he said, nodding toward the chair across from his cluttered desk.
She sat down, smoothing her cardigan over her lap, her fingers fidgeting nervously.
He leaned back a bit, looking at her, not with a harsh gaze, but more like he was really thinking.
"Are you stressed?" he asked, his voice calm.
Ayla’s throat felt tight.
"I’ve noticed a shift," he continued. "You used to be one of my best students: focused and sharp. But recently..." He paused. "You seem a bit off. Since your sister went abroad, I can tell you’ve been under pressure. Your assignnts are late, and it looks like your focus is fading."
Ayla glanced at her hands, not quite sure how to respond.
"I’m here to listen," he said gently.
The silence hung between them for a mont. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, her voice barely above a whisper, "It’s just... stress, sir."
He raised an eyebrow. "Stress from what?"
She hesitated, then shared part of the truth. "When my sister was here, she managed everything: the house, chores, and she always helped study when I got confused." Her voice trembled a bit. "Now it’s all up to ."
The professor nodded slowly. "You’re not a kid anymore, Ayla," he said. "You’re twenty. Life doesn’t stop when support systems change. We have to adjust."
She nodded, feeling sha creep up her face.
"You need to learn to handle things on your own," he said, his tone firm but kind. "Otherwise, relying on others can lead to laziness."
His words stung, but they weren’t cruel. "I get it," she replied quietly.
He sighed, softening his tone. "I know you can do this, which is why I’m worried."
Ayla nodded again, her eyes brimming with tears. What she didn’t say, what he didn’t know, was that this wasn’t all that new to her. She was totally capable; she’d always been a strong student. What she was losing wasn’t her ability; it was her motivation. And that shift scared her.
Once he dismissed her, she stood quickly. "Thanks, sir," she said, her voice shaking a little as she left the room, determined to find her way back.
She dashed out of the office, her shoes clicking on the floor, and quickly checked her phone; it was 2:32 p.m. Panic shot through her as she raced off.
When she got to the university gate, she was breathing heavy, but the place was totally empty. No Liam. She pulled out her phone and tried calling him.
Once. Twice. Nothing.
She spotted a student walking by the sa batch as Liam’s batch, and she stopped him. "Excuse , do you know Liam from IT?"
The guy nodded. "Yeah, he left long ago. Before the class. Looked super rushed. He got a call and took off pretty fast."
Her heart dropped. She thanked him and walked away, feeling blank.
’Why didn’t he say anything?’
The walk ho felt like it lasted forever as her mind spiraled out of control.
’Where did he go? Why was he being secretive? Who is Laila?’
Before she even realized it, she walked right past her building. Two blocks later, the truth hit her like a punch. She stopped suddenly, her heart racing, and turned back, shaking her head at herself.
When she finally got to her apartnt, exhaustion weighed her down. She fiddled with her keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, t by silence once again. But this ti, the silence felt heavier. And way lonelier. Sothing wasn’t right. Deep down, she knew, this was just the start of sothing bigger.
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