Chapter 3

Aria Chen POV:

I remembered the day I quit my job at the tech firm. Donovan had painted a picture of a serene, supportive home life, where I' d manage our affairs and he' d conquer the literary world. He called it our "power couple synergy." I called it a gilded cage. He just wanted a steady, stable base. He said my high-stress job was distracting him. I believed him. I loved him.

So, I took the university admin job he' d found for me. It was close to his office, low-pressure, and, most importantly, it allowed me to be available for him.

The irony wasn' t lost on me. Now, my job often meant I crossed paths with him on campus, navigating the unspoken rule that we were to act like polite acquaintances. He insisted on it. Said it would avoid "unnecessary gossip" about a professor dating an admin staff member. I saw it for what it was: he was ashamed of me, or, at the very least, ashamed of us.

Today, I needed his signature on a grant application. His phone went straight to voicemail, and my messages remained unread. This was typical Donovan behavior. So, I walked to his office, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

Outside his door, a small queue of students waited. I recognized a few, eyes glued to their phones, others nervously clutching textbooks. I sighed, taking my place at the end of the line.

He used to tell me his office hours were sacrosanct, dedicated solely to his students' intellectual growth. "No distractions, Aria," he' d said, "not even from you."

Just then, the office door swung open. Brie emerged, her hair perfectly tousled, a shy smile playing on her lips. She practically floated past the waiting students, who grumbled under their breath.

"Some people just get special treatment," I heard a student whisper, loud enough for me to hear. "Professor Holden always has time for Brie. She practically lives in his office."

The door clicked shut behind her, muting the muffled sounds from inside. My stomach clenched. It wasn't just gossip. It was true. I knew it in my gut, in every ignored call, every distant look, every new preference he'd suddenly developed.

I thought about all the hours I' d spent waiting for him, for his attention, for just a sliver of the man I thought I knew. I felt a profound sense of self-pity, then a wave of anger. How could I have been so blind? So foolish?

A few minutes later, the door reopened. Donovan stood there, looking perfectly composed, a stack of papers in his hand. He glanced at the waiting students, then his eyes landed on me. His expression was unreadable.

I stepped forward. "Donovan, I need your signature on the Calloway grant application. It' s due by five."

He nodded curtly. "Come in."

I followed him into his office. He sat behind his desk, gesturing for me to place the papers down. As I did, he leaned in, his voice low. "Try not to let anyone see us leave together. Appearances, you know."

My heart hardened. Appearances. Always appearances. For him, they mattered more than reality. More than us.

I walked out of his office, the grant application now signed, my hand a little steadier than it had been coming in. The entire exchange felt like a bad dream. I was his glorified secretary, a dirty little secret he kept hidden.

The faculty mixer that evening was just as painful. My job required me to be there, mingling, making sure everything ran smoothly. Donovan, on the other hand, was there to shine.

I watched him from across the crowded room, his charismatic smile captivating a circle of younger faculty. Brie was by his side, hanging on his every word, her adoration radiating like a beacon.

I moved through the room, collecting empty glasses, making small talk, doing my job. As I passed by a dimly lit private lounge, I heard raucous laughter spilling out. The sounds of a party, a celebration.

Curiosity, or perhaps masochism, pulled me closer. I peeked inside. Donovan, surrounded by a group of his most favored students and a few junior professors, was holding court. And right next to him, giggling, was Brie.

"Professor Holden, to your groundbreaking research!" one student cheered, raising a glass.

"And to Brie, for being such an inspiring muse!" another added, winking at her.

Brie blushed, batting her eyelashes at Donovan. "Oh, stop it, you guys."

Donovan chuckled, his arm casually draped around Brie' s shoulder. Then, someone yelled, "A toast! To our favorite professor and his favorite student! Drink up, you two!"

Brie picked up a glass. "Professor, will you do the honors?" she asked, her voice syrupy sweet.

"Of course, my dear," Donovan replied, his eyes sparkling.

"A toast to the future!" someone shouted. "And a toast to... a cross-cup!"

The room erupted in cheers. Donovan and Brie looked at each other, then, with an almost imperceptible hesitation from Donovan, they linked arms, their glasses clinking. As they drank, their eyes locked, and then, in a slow, agonizing motion, their lips brushed. A shared, intimate kiss.

My breath hitched. The world tilted. A sharp, burning sensation spread through my chest, searing my lungs.

Then, someone looked up, their eyes meeting mine. The laughter died down instantly. A hush fell over the room. Donovan, his eyes still on Brie, slowly turned his head. His gaze landed on me, wide with surprise, then a flicker of panic.

He started to move, a step towards me. But Brie, still clinging to his arm, pulled him back. She looked at me, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips, then squeezed Donovan' s arm possessively.

My phone buzzed in my hand. A message from Donovan. Aria, it' s not what it looks like. Just a silly game. Please, let me explain.

I stared at the words, then at him, standing there with her. The explanation was already painted on his face. I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. Then, I calmly pressed the power button on my phone, plunging the screen into darkness.