Her bed seemed comfortable
Too comfortable.
Was it morning yet?
She usually woke up till 7 a.m., even without her alarm.
But today, Beatrice had been lazing around half-asleep in bed for fifteen minutes, and there was no trace of the morning light and her upstairs neighbour's obnoxious vacuum cleaner.
Why am I so exhausted though? I didn't even-
Oh.
Oh.
The wedding.
Suddenly, everything started making sense.
Her feet were sore, because of her heels. Her mouth had the bitter taste of yesterday's pack of cigarettes. And there wasn't an ounce of sunlight because of the blackout curtains.
Beatrice groggily got up and looked around.
Pitch black, the lingering scent of nicotine from her clothes, and a small spill of vodka on the front of her shirt.
She'd had another nightmare. Worse than last week.
Looks like the meds weren't working.
Yawning, she dragged herself out of bed and threw open the curtains.
Morning light shone on her face. She squinted.
The cool, fresh breeze tickled her nose. Birds chirped merrily in the maple trees.
The scene was so nostalgic, so familiar. She'd wake up to such atmospheres every day back in Scarsdale.
But over the years, she got herself used to the hum of traffic and people screaming outside her window.
It was less unsettling that way.
. . .
The refreshing aroma of morning coffee. The soft fabric of his shirt.
Nathaniel was just getting started with his day like normal.
He had stayed in this penthouse for a while, since the people and environment were much more peaceful than back at home. Plus, it was much closer to Hamilton.
It was only for the marriage talks that he went back to his Mother's for a while.
He didn't even remember he had someone else living in his apartment until he heard a door click.
Nathan spun around, alarmed.
His eyes met a pair of tired, amber ones, a brow raised.
She looked him up and down, and fought back a laugh.
Wait.
Nathaniel glanced down too.
A white t-shirt, black boxers. Legs mostly exposed.
Meanwhile, she was all prim and proper, neatened for another day at work.
"Morning," a smirk ghosted her lips.
He cleared his throat, "...In my defence, I forgot I had a nosy woman living under my roof now."
"Oh? So you usually roam around the house half naked?"
He flushed, "I do not-"
Beatrice waved him off, "Whatever you say, Mentoes."
His eyes narrowed, "Are you usually this infuriating in the mornings?"
"Well, I don't usually argue with femboys in the morning either, but here we are."
She walked over the shoe cabinet and took out her heels, slipping them on.
He scoffed, "Leaving without breakfast? What are you, Superwoman?"
"No, I just don't chug coffee at eight like you do." She grabbed the spare keycard from the island.
"Later, Mentoes."
The door shut. Nathaniel was left grinding his teeth.
Smartass.
. . .
"...and your assignment for this week will be a presentation on at least three of the atomic models we discussed today."
Professor Collins finally faced the class, having filled every inch of the pristine whiteboard with writing. "Any questions?"
Her marker finally stopped squeaking. Students were still jotting down notes.
"No?" she looked around, "Alright then. Dismissed."
The professor sat down as the students began to pack and file out of the classroom.
Nobody dared mention it, but the glint of a new ring on her finger didn't go unnoticed.
However…
In another Lecture Hall down the corridor, the situation was completely different.
"If you can correctly guess who it is, you get no assignments for the rest of the week."
Professor Victor smirked, one man against a class of twenty.
"Oh, c'mon!"
"No fair!"
"Can we at least get a hint?"
He fought back a laugh, shaking his head. "Where's the fun in that?"
"Hey! That's not fair!"
"Come on, Prof.!"
He turned his back to the class, scribbling something down on the board as he spoke, "Why are you guys so interested in my marriage, anyway? It's nothing special."
"Hell nah!" someone from the back loudly disagreed, "My brother said you've been single ever since you joined the uni! How can it not be interesting?"
"And… who is your brother again, Stewart?" Nathaniel raised a brow.
"Edward Stewart! He was your student a year back!"
"Ah, yes. Edward. Brilliant boy."
"Don't change the subject!"
He laughed heartily. "Oh man, this is too entertaining."
"Okay, just one hint?" a girl whined.
He sighed, giving in. "Oh alright, fine. But one."
"However, then, you would have only three tries to guess. And if you use up all three tries and still can't guess, you get double the work for the week."
"That makes it even more fun! Hell yeah!"
"What's the hint?!"
"She is…" he tapped his chin playfully, trying to think of a good clue.
"She's someone who you'd least expect to marry me, of all people."
. . .
"Ah, Professor Coll-"
Charles White paused mid sentence.
"Professor… Victor." he slowly corrected.
Beatrice Victor cleared her throat. Everyone's eyes seemed to be fixed on her.
"How may I help you today?"
She slid a thin file his way.
"I've reviewed the research paper personally, just as you asked last week. The file also contains some campaigns that require only your signature; they have been sent by the Dean of Physics."
He caught it, flipping through its contents. "Hm. Dale has already informed the Board then."
"And… the paper you were working on?" White set the file aside.
"You'll have a softcopy by next week. I have a lot on my plate these few days."
He hummed. "Alright, works for me. Also, have you been informed that you'll be drafting the midterm exams for the sophomores this year?"
"Yes sir, Dr. Dale has told me." she confirmed.
The man nodded, "Good work, C-... Victor."
Her eye twitched. "Speaking of, may I have a moment? In private?"
Mr. White raised a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? Say whatever you want here, Professor. I do not have time."
He already knows what this is about, doesn't he?
Bastard.
"Alright then," She leaned down, voice lowering. "I am aware that what I'm about to ask is confidential… But…"
"May I know which member of the board pushed for the… union, specifically?"
His eyes widened momentarily, not expecting such a bold question.
"...Why do you ask?"
"For… research purposes."
He scoffed. "I'm afraid I can't say anything. These are the kinds of matters that don't go through me for approval, Collins. I just get the word to pass on."
"Not even a small clue?"
White went silent, rubbing his chin.
Then, he spoke again, hesitant. "Well… all I know is, it involves the Founders of Hamilton Hall as well. That's how deeply tied the institute is to this matrimony."
"..."
"Remember, this is extremely confidential information. I'm only telling you this because you're involved. Don't go around running your mouth about this anywhere else."
"And… I assume none of the faculty knows about this arrangement?"
"Not that I know of any, no." he replied honestly.
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Why would I lie to… a former student?"
She bit back a laugh. "Right… former professor."
Beatrice straightened again, brushing dust off her skirt. "Alright then, that was all."
The man inclined his head, "Hm. I'll see you around, Professor."
She gave a nod of acknowledgement, and walked away. But before she exited the busy office, she found herself turning and mouthed something before she could stop.
'Thank you.'
If he wasn't going to tell him, she'll find out herself.