The morning after my first terrifying day as Professor Blackwood's wife, I thought the whispers had reached their peak. I thought the worst was over. I was wrong.
It started subtly. A glance here, a murmured comment there. At first, I tried to ignore it. I buried my head in textbooks, pretending that the world outside the library walls didn't exist. But then I saw her.
Her name was Vivienne Carter, a transfer student from a prestigious university abroad. Perfectly composed, flawlessly dressed, with long chestnut hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. And she had the audacity to smile at him like he was hers, not mine.
I froze when she approached him in the hallway, notebook in hand. "Professor Blackwood," she said, her voice melodic and warm, "could you help me with the constitutional analysis from last lecture?"
He glanced at me—just briefly, but long enough that I felt my chest tighten—and then he shifted his attention to her. "Of course," he replied. "Let's sit in my office."
I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do anything but watch the two of them walk down the corridor side by side. And yet, I stayed, rooted to the spot, my stomach twisting with something I couldn't name. Jealousy? Fear? Rage? Perhaps all three at once.
When the class ended, I followed from a distance, careful not to be seen. I watched him close the office door behind them, the faint click echoing in my ears like a gunshot. My hands shook. My heartbeat was deafening.
I couldn't help it. I barged in.
The office door was ajar, and I stepped inside, my chest heaving. "Professor Blackwood!" I called, my voice sharper than I intended. Both of them turned. Vivienne's smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, turning to me with the kind of polite, condescending smile that instantly made my skin crawl.
"Miss Moore," Professor Blackwood said, his tone calm but firm, "what are you doing here?"
"I… I wanted to discuss last night," I said, trying to steady my voice. "About the marriage… about everything."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes for a second. "We can't do this here," he said quietly. "She needs help with the assignment."
Vivienne leaned forward, smiling innocently. "I can come back later if it's inconvenient."
Inconvenient? Inconvenient? I wanted to laugh bitterly, though it came out as a strangled sound. I realized then, with a pang of terror, that this was my first true test. Not the marriage, not the whispers, not even my mother's illness. This—Vivienne Carter—was the real obstacle.
"I'll leave," she said gracefully, standing and gathering her things. "Good luck, Professor Blackwood."
As the door clicked shut behind her, I finally allowed myself to breathe. My knees almost buckled, and I sat in the chair opposite his desk, staring at him. "Why is she here?" I demanded. "Why her?"
He hesitated, then leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "She transferred from an international program," he said finally. "Her parents requested I supervise her work."
"And you let her come into your office alone?" My voice rose despite my attempt to stay calm.
"I was helping her academically, nothing else," he said evenly. "You know that."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that he would never betray me, never break the rules he had set the night we married. And yet… the knot in my stomach told a different story.
By the time I left the office, I was shaking. Every whisper in the corridor felt like a dagger. Every glance at my classmates' smirking faces was a reminder that the secret was fragile, a paper-thin shield between me and ruin. I had married my professor to save my mother, and now I was watching another woman walk into the very world that was supposed to protect me.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures, tutoring sessions, and whispered rumors. By the time I returned to the apartment, exhaustion weighed me down like a physical force. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to speak. I didn't want to think.
But then he appeared in the doorway, holding a stack of papers and wearing that calm, controlled expression that always made my pulse stutter. "Lydia," he said softly. "We need to talk."
I swallowed, my throat dry. "About what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He placed the papers on the table. "About her. About us. About how to keep this marriage… under control."
"Control?" I echoed, my voice rising. "You think I can control my life after marrying you? After… after everything that's happened?"
His eyes softened, a flicker of emotion breaking through the mask he always wore. "I never asked for this," he said quietly. "But now that it's happened, I need you to trust me. And you need to trust yourself."
I wanted to, I really did. But the fear, the jealousy, the whispered rumors, and the presence of Vivienne Carter made that impossible.
And then he said something that made my heart stop. "She's dangerous. For you. For me. And if you're not careful, she'll ruin everything we've worked for."
I felt my stomach drop. Not him. Not us. But her? A rival? Already?
That night, I lay in the guest room, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in my mind. My pulse wouldn't slow. My thoughts refused to stop. Vivienne Carter. Whispered rumors. My secret marriage. My professor. My husband.
I realized with a sudden, terrifying clarity that the real battle had only just begun.
And when I heard a knock at the door, my heart skipped a beat, my blood ran cold.
"I need to see you," a voice whispered from the other side.
It wasn't his.
It wasn't her.
It was someone else entirely.
And that someone was about to change everything.