The next morning hit me like a brick to the face. I’d barely slept, my brain replaying Ethan’s stupid message on a loop. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, I was a zombie. Hair a mess, eyes puffy, and my mood was also a mess. I threw on my favorite T-shirt and a pair of jeans, grabbed my bag, and shuffled out the door, hoping caffeine and sheer willpower would get me through the day.
Campus was buzzing as usual. Students laughing, bikes whizzing by, the smell of wet grass and someone’s overpriced latte in the air.
I was halfway to my first class, still groggy and lost in my own head, when I slammed right into someone. Hot coffee splashed across my chest, soaking through my T-shirt like some kind of cruel déjà vu. I yelped, jumping back, and looked up to see Professor Claire Davies staring at me, her takeout cup dangling in her hand, now mostly empty.
“Oh, Aria! I’m so terribly sorry!” she gushed, her voice all syrupy and high-pitched, like she was auditioning for theater club. Her lips curved into this perfect little smile, but her eyes? Cold. Totally fake. Like she’d rehearsed this in front of her mirror just to sound nice.
I blinked at her, coffee dripping down my front, the heat stinging my skin. “Uh, it’s fine, Professor,” I mumbled, brushing at the stain with my hand like that’d magically fix it. “No worries.”
But inside? I was screaming. Seriously? What is this, why is this happening to me? I didn’t have time to call her out on her Oscar-worthy apology, though I was already cutting it close for class, and now I looked like a walking espresso disaster. I forced a tight smile, muttered something about needing to go, and took off toward my dorm, my sneakers slapping the pavement as I speed-walked through the crowd.
Why does this keep happening to me? I thought, dodging a guy on a skateboard who almost took me out. Is the universe trying to tell me I’m cursed or something? The coffee smell was everywhere, bitter and clingy, and my hoodie was sticking to me in all the wrong places. By the time I burst into my room, I was a sweaty, caffeinated mess.
I took off the T-shirt, tossing it onto the laundry basket with a groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, digging through my dresser for something, anything clean. I yanked out a faded black T-shirt which is not-so-cute like my previous T-shirt. I pulled it over my head, and checked the time. Five minutes late. Awesome. Ethan Ramsey was probably already in full lecture mode, and I’d be the idiot sneaking in like a criminal.
I didn’t even bother with my hair, I just grabbed my bag and bolted back out, half-jogging, half-stumbling across campus. My heart was pounding, and not just from the sprint.
Saturday’s conversation with Ethan was still gnawing at me, all his talk about second chances and forgiveness. I didn’t know what to feel. Mad, hurt, maybe a tiny bit hopeful? It was a mess, and I hated messes.
When I finally reached the lecture hall, I slipped through the back door like a ninja, holding my breath as it creaked shut behind me. The room was packed, the usual hum of chatter dying down as Ethan stood up front, flipping through his notes. He looked annoyingly good, dark hair a little messy, sleeves rolled up, that quiet confidence he always had. I darted to my usual spot in the back row, far away from him, and sank into the seat, praying I’d gone unnoticed.
Normally, professors love to make a big deal out of latecomers. A snarky 'nice of you to join us' or at least a pointed stare. But Ethan? Nothing. He just flicked his eyes toward me for, like, half a second, long enough for me to catch it, not long enough for anyone else to notice then turned back to his podium and started talking. No smirk, no comment, just… nothing. It was weird. Ethan wasn’t the 'ignore you' type, and it threw me off.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, cutting through the room. “Today, we’re diving into The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy. It’s a novel that wrestles with some big questions... fate, loyalty, and, most importantly, what it means to give someone another shot after they’ve screwed up.”
I froze, my pen halfway to my notebook. Oh, come on. My stomach did a flip, and not the fun kind. Was he doing this again? Talking to me through a freaking book? I glanced around, but everyone else was just nodding or scribbling notes like this was normal. Meanwhile, I was over here having a silent meltdown.
Ethan kept going, pacing a little as he spoke. “Take Clym Yeobright, for example. He’s a guy who’s made mistakes, big ones. And when he comes back home, he’s got to face the people he’s hurt. The whole story hinges on whether they can forgive him, whether he can earn that trust back. Hardy doesn’t make it easy, though. Forgiveness isn’t some quick fix... it’s messy, painful, and takes guts.”
I gripped my pen tighter, my knuckles turning white. Messy and painful. Yeah, no kidding, Ethan. My mind flashed back to that day, his quiet 'I’m sorry' and that look in his eyes, like he was begging me to hear him out. Was this his way of keeping that conversation going? Dropping hints in front of fifty other people who had no clue?
He leaned against the podium, his voice getting softer, more intense. “There’s this one line I love: ‘To forgive is not to forget, but to understand.’ Clym’s mother has to wrestle with that... can she let go of the past without pretending it didn’t happen? It’s a choice that changes everything.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I’m surprised they didn’t fall out. Subtle, Professor. Real subtle. But even as I tried to brush it off with sarcasm, something stuck. Understand. Did I understand Ethan? He’d said Claire was blackmailing him, that he didn’t have a choice. It sounded like a soap opera plot, but the way he’d looked at me yesterday, like he was drowning and I was the only lifeline made me wonder.
I shifted in my seat, my leg bouncing under the desk. Part of me wanted to storm up there and yell, “Stop talking in code and just say it!” But the other part... the quieter, scarier part was listening. What if he was right? What if forgiveness wasn’t about erasing the hurt, but figuring out why it happened? I shook my head, trying to shove that thought away. Nope. Not going there. He doesn’t get a free pass just because he’s good at lectures.
Ethan kept talking, breaking down the characters and their choices, but I was only half-hearing it. My brain was a war zone, anger duking it out with confusion, a tiny spark of hope flickering in the corner. I doodled in my notebook, random swirls and jagged lines, anything to keep my hands busy while my mind spun.
The girl next to me, Jess... leaned over and whispered, “You okay? You look like you’re about to punch something.”
I snorted, keeping my voice low. “Yeah, just… bad morning. Coffee incident.”
She grinned. “You’re a magnet for chaos, Aria.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, glancing back at Ethan. He was writing something on the board now, totally focused, like he hadn’t just turned my brain into a pretzel.
Class dragged on, every word he said feeling like a little jab at my resolve. By the time the bell rang, I was a jittery mess, ready to bolt. I stuffed my notebook into my bag, avoiding eye contact with anyone, when Ethan’s voice cut through the shuffle of chairs.
“Aria, hang back a sec?”
My stomach dropped. *Not again.* I sighed, loud enough for Jess to give me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she headed out. The room emptied fast, leaving just me and Ethan—and a whole lot of tension.
I trudged to the front, arms crossed, my bag slung over one shoulder. “What now?” I asked, sharper than I meant to. “Another pep talk?”
He looked at me, and for a second, I saw that same rawness from that day... eyes tired, shoulders slumped, like he was carrying something heavy. “No pep talk,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw the coffee thing earlier. You okay?”
I laughed, short and bitter. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. Claire’s fake ‘sorry’ and my soaked hoodie really made my day. Thanks for checking.”
He winced, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to pry. I just wanted to—”
“What? Apologize again? Teach me another life lesson through Hardy?” I cut in, my voice rising. “Because I’m not in the mood, Ethan. I’m late, I’m tired, and I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to believe me,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and urgent. “I know I messed up, Aria. I know I hurt you. But I’m not lying about Claire. She’s got something on me, something big and I’m trying to fix it. I just need time.”
I stared at him, my chest tight. “Time? You think time’s gonna make me forget how it felt to see you with her? To hear you lie to my face?”
“I didn’t—” He stopped, exhaling hard. “I didn’t want to lie. I was protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” I scoffed, but my voice cracked, betraying me. “You broke me, Ethan. And now you’re quoting novels like that’s gonna glue me back together.”
He looked down, hands in his pockets, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “I don’t expect you to forgive me today. Or tomorrow. But I’m not giving up. I’ll keep trying, Aria, because you’re worth it.”
I swallowed hard, my throat burning. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him to leave me alone, but my stupid heart wouldn’t let me. “I need to go,” I said instead, turning away before he could see the tears prickling my eyes.
I walked out, the door banging shut behind me, and kept going down the hall, out into the crisp morning air, where I could breathe again. But his words stuck with me, heavy and persistent, like coffee stains you can’t quite wash out.
Forgiveness. Understanding. Second chances. Maybe they weren’t just book stuff after all. Maybe, just maybe I’d have to figure out what they meant for me.
———
Ethan’s POV
___
 I was lost in my head, replaying the weekend’s disaster. Aria storming out of my apartment, her voice sharp with hurt, her eyes blazing with a fury I’d put there. I pour all my emotion to her and she’d thrown it back in my face. Fair enough. I deserved it. But it didn’t stop the ache gnawing at my chest, the desperate need to fix what I’d broken.
I was on my way to the lecture hall when I saw it happen. Aria, head down, probably still half-asleep, collided with Claire. Coffee erupted from Claire’s cup, splashing across Aria’s chest in a dark, steaming wave. I froze, my breath catching as Aria yelped, jumping back, her hands brushing uselessly at the stain soaking her T-shirt. Claire’s voice cut through the noise, high and overly sweet... “Oh, Aria! I’m so terribly sorry!” but her smile was all wrong. Tight, calculated, her eyes glinting with something cold. It wasn’t an apology, it was a performance.
My jaw tightened, a slow burn of suspicion curling in my gut. Aria mumbled something probably saying 'It’s fine', knowing her. Then bolted toward her dorm, her sneakers pounding the pavement, coffee dripping down her front. She didn’t see me standing there, but Claire did. Her head tilted my way, that smug little smirk widening as she caught my eye. She knew I’d seen it. And I knew, right then, this wasn’t an accident.
I strode over, my steps heavy, my briefcase banging against my leg. The crowd thinned around us as students scurried off, oblivious to the tension brewing. Claire turned fully to face me, twirling the now-empty cup in her hand like it was a prop in her little game.
“What the hell was that, Claire?” I kept my voice low, but it came out sharp, edged with the frustration I’d been bottling up since Saturday. “What’s your game? Why did you do that?”
She blinked, all mock innocence, her lips parting in a theatrical gasp. “Ethan, it was an accident! I bumped into her, that’s all. You’re making it sound like I planned it.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, a sing-song lilt that mocked me straight to my face. She chuckled, a cold, deliberate sound, and leaned in just enough to make it personal. “You’re so jumpy lately. Relax.”
I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing, heat rising in my chest. “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you. That wasn’t a bump, it was a shove. You’re targeting her, and I want to know why.”
Claire’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes flashed, a spark of defiance. “Oh, Ethan, you’re overreacting. It was just coffee. She’s fine. Look, she’s already off to change. No harm done.” She waved a hand dismissively, but the mockery in her voice set my teeth on edge.
“Stay away from her,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl, low and firm. “Whatever you’re planning, whatever this is... forget it. Don’t you dare try anything. You’ve already got what you want, Claire. You have me. Leave Aria out of it.”
Her smirk faltered for a split second, something unreadable flickering across her face, anger, maybe, or hurt. Then it was gone, replaced by that polished confidence she wielded like a weapon. “Oh, Ethan,” she purred, stepping closer, her voice softening into a taunt. “You’re so protective. It’s almost sweet. But don’t worry, I’m not after your precious Aria. I’ve got better things to do.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, my patience fraying. “I’m serious, Claire. If you pull something like this again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she cut in, her eyebrow arching, her tone daring me to finish the threat. “Relax, darling. It’s just a little spill. No need to start a war over it.”
I glared at her, my hands clenching around the handle of my briefcase. I wanted to call her out, to unravel every lie she’d spun around me, but I couldn’t, not here, not yet. Not with her holding my career and Aria’s future over my head like a guillotine. “Just stay away from her,” I repeated, turning on my heel before I said something I’d regret. Her laughter followed me, sharp and grating, as I stalked toward the lecture hall.
———
The lecture hall loomed ahead, all brick and glass, and I pushed through the doors, my mind still buzzing with Claire’s smirk and Aria’s coffee-soaked retreat. The room fell silent as I stepped in, the chatter of students dying out like someone flipped a switch. Fifty pairs of eyes tracked me as I made my way to the front, dropping my briefcase on the desk with a thud. I scanned the seats, my stomach sinking when I saw Aria’s usual spot in the back... empty.
She’d be late. I knew it. After that mess with Claire, she’d need time to change, to pull herself together. I couldn’t blame her. I’d wait, though. I had to. She hadn’t answered my calls or texts since Saturday. Since I’d kissed her, since I’d begged her to give me a chance and this was the only way I’d get to see her, to talk to her, even if it was just for a moment.
I busied myself with my notes, shuffling papers I didn’t need, my eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. The students shifted in their seats, whispering, probably wondering why I hadn’t started yet. Let them wonder. I wasn’t moving until she walked in.
Finally, the door creaked open, and there she was... slipping in like a shadow, her head down, a faded black T-shirt replacing the soaked one. She darted to her seat, avoiding my gaze, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. She was here. That was enough for now.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said, clearing my throat as I straightened up, forcing my voice to steady. “Today, we’re diving into The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy. It’s a novel that wrestles with some big questions... fate, loyalty, and what it means to give someone another shot after they’ve screwed up.”
I launched into the lecture, pacing the front, my words flowing on autopilot. But my eyes kept drifting to her, hunched in the back, scribbling notes or doodling I couldn’t tell from here. I wanted her to look up, to see me, to hear what I was really saying. Forgiveness isn’t a quick fix. It’s messy, painful, and takes guts. Was she listening? Did she get it? Or was I just shouting into the void again?
———
When the bell rang, the room erupted into motion. Chairs scraping, bags zipping, voices rising. I watched Aria pack up, her movements quick, like she couldn’t wait to escape. I couldn’t let her. Not this time. She’d ignored every call, every text and I was running out of ways to reach her.
“Aria, hang back a sec?” I called, my voice cutting through the noise, casual but firm.
She froze, her shoulders tensing, then sighed loud enough for me to hear it from the front. The other students filtered out, tossing curious glances our way, but I didn’t care. She trudged down the aisle, arms crossed, her bag slung over one shoulder, and stopped a few feet from me. “What now?” she asked, her tone sharp, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Another pep talk?”
I set my notes down, meeting her gaze. She looked tired, pissed, and damn it, she's still beautiful, even with that coffee-stained morning etched into her frown. “No pep talk,” I said, keeping my voice soft, steady. “I saw the coffee thing earlier. You okay?”
She laughed, a short, bitter sound that stung. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. Claire’s fake ‘sorry’ and my soaked hoodie really made my day. Thanks for checking.”
I winced, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not trying to pry. I just wanted to—”
“What? Apologize again? Teach me another life lesson through Hardy?” she snapped, her voice climbing, cutting me off. “Because I’m not in the mood, Ethan. I’m late, I’m tired, and I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to believe me,” I said, stepping closer, my voice dropping with urgency. “I know I messed up, Aria. I know I hurt you. But I’m not lying about Claire. She’s got something on me, something big, and I’m trying to fix it. I just need time.”
Her eyes locked on mine, her chest rising fast, and for a second, I thought she might listen. “Time?” she said, her voice cracking with disbelief. “You think time’s gonna make me forget how it felt to see you with her? To hear you lie to my face?”
“I didn’t—” I stopped, exhaling hard, my hands shoving into my pockets. “I didn’t want to lie. I was protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” She scoffed, but it broke halfway, her voice trembling. “You broke me, Ethan. And now you’re quoting novels like that’s gonna glue me back together.”
I looked down, guilt twisting my gut. “I don’t expect you to forgive me today. Or tomorrow. But I’m not giving up. I’ll keep trying, Aria, because you’re worth it.”
She didn’t say anything, just stared at me, her eyes glistening, then turned and walked out. The door banged shut behind her, and I stood there, alone, the silence pressing in like a weight I couldn’t shake.
———
Back in my office, I slumped into my chair, the morning replaying in my head. Claire’s smirk, Aria’s glare, the lecture I’d turned into a plea. My phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of it. Kai’s name lit up the screen, and I sighed, swiping to answer.
“Hey, man,” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel.
“Hey, Ethan!” Kai’s voice was warm, familiar, a lifeline to something simpler. “How’s it going? Been a while.”
We caught up, trading small talk about work, life, the usual. Then he asked, “So, you still tutoring Aria? I know she’s been through it with the accident and all.”
I hesitated, my fingers tapping the desk. “Nah, I didn’t keep it up. She doesn’t need it, Kai. She’s smart, smarter than she gives herself credit for. I can look out for her without the tutoring gig.”
He paused, then chuckled. “Yeah, I guess she’s always been stubborn like that. Just… keep an eye on her, alright? She’s my little sister, man. I worry.”
“I will,” I said, my voice firm, a promise I meant more than he’d ever know. “Always.”
We hung up, and I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Kai trusted me. Aria didn’t. Claire had me by the throat, and I was stuck, trying to claw my way out of this mess without losing everything. But Aria... she was the one thing I couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard she pushed me away.
I’d keep trying. I had to. Because even if she hated me, even if I’d broken her, she was still the only thing that mattered.