The moment stretched too long.
Jennie stared at the man standing in front of her, the bouquet of red roses vivid against his dark tuxedo, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes were seeing. The professor who had scolded her for being two minutes late… the man who had questioned her quietly in his office… the stranger chosen to become her husband—
They were the same person.
Her breath came out shallow. The room spun, voices fading into a dull hum behind her ears.
"No…" she whispered, though she wasn't sure if the word ever left her lips.
Mr. Esler noticed it instantly—the way her color drained, the way her body swayed as if the ground beneath her had betrayed her. The roses slipped slightly in his grip as he stepped forward.
"Jennie—"
Her knees gave out.
Before she could hit the marble floor, strong arms caught her, pulling her against a firm chest. The bouquet fell aside as Mr. Esler held her securely, one hand supporting her back, the other steadying her head.
"Sir—!" her mother gasped.
Her father rushed forward, panic written across his face. "What happened? Jennie!"
"She fainted," Mr. Esler said calmly, though his heart was pounding far harder than his voice suggested. "She needs to lie down."
"This way," her father said quickly. "Her room—upstairs."
Without hesitation, Mr. Esler lifted her into his arms. She felt impossibly light, fragile in a way that unsettled him deeply. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing shallow but steady.
As he followed her father upstairs, his mind raced.
So this is why she looked at me like that.
Her room was simple, neat—soft colors, books stacked on a desk, a life still forming. He laid her gently on the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head before stepping back.
"She'll be fine," he said. "Shock and exhaustion."
Her mother nodded, still shaken. "Thank you."
Mr. Esler turned away before his composure cracked.
That night passed without words.
Jennie slept restlessly, dreams tangled with memories—classrooms blending into doorways, roses falling like blood-red petals, her professor's voice echoing where it shouldn't.
When morning came, she woke with a pounding headache and the crushing weight of reality.
It hadn't been a dream.
Her groom was her professor.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling, dread curling tightly in her chest. Questions assaulted her from every direction.
How will I face him?
How will university work now?
What will people say?
And beneath all of it—something worse.
Confusion.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
From him.
Her ex.
I heard you're getting married.
We need to talk.
Her fingers trembled as she locked the screen.
She got ready in silence, moving slower than usual, time slipping through her hands. When she finally checked the clock, panic surged again.
9:10 a.m.
"Again?" she muttered.
She ran.
When Jennie entered the lecture hall, ten full minutes late, the familiar heat of embarrassment washed over her. She braced herself for sharp words, for cold reprimand.
But none came.
Mr. Esler glanced up briefly, met her eyes for just a fraction of a second—and then looked back at his notes.
"Take a seat," he said evenly.
No warning.
No scolding.
No reaction at all.
The class barely noticed, but Jennie did.
Her heart raced as she slid into her chair. His calm unsettled her more than anger ever could.
After a few moments, his voice cut through the room again.
"Miss Jennie."
Her stomach tightened.
"Yes, sir?" she answered softly.
"Why were you late today?"
Every eye turned toward her.
Her throat went dry. "There was… a family meeting last night," she said carefully. "A groom meet."
His hand stilled against the desk.
He already knew.
Still, he nodded once. "Sit down."
That was all.
The lecture continued, but Jennie barely heard it. She could feel his presence like a weight, sense his attention drifting toward her more than once. There was tension in the air—subtle, invisible, but unmistakable.
It bothered him.
The way her shoulders were stiff.
The way her gaze kept lowering.
The sadness she carried like a shadow.
By the time the session ended, his patience was worn thin—not with her, but with the questions clawing at his mind.
"Miss Jennie," he said as students began to leave. "My office. Now."
Her heart sank.
Inside his office, the silence felt heavier than before.
"You look troubled," Mr. Esler said once she sat down. "More than yesterday."
Jennie didn't answer.
He studied her carefully. "Is it the age difference?"
She shook her head.
"Fear of rumors? Of what people might say?"
Again, no.
His jaw tightened slightly. "Then what is it?"
Her hands twisted together in her lap. The truth pressed painfully against her chest, begging to be released.
"My ex-boyfriend," she said finally.
His expression hardened.
"He knows," she continued, voice barely above a whisper. "About the marriage. He wants to meet me. Today."
Silence fell sharply.
Mr. Esler felt something hot and dangerous rise in his chest—anger, sharp and immediate. He forced it down, schooling his face into calm neutrality.
"I see," he said.
But his fingers curled slowly into a fist.
"You may go," he added. "Focus on your studies."
Jennie nodded, standing quickly before her emotions betrayed her. As she left the room, she felt his gaze linger on her back.
The door closed.
The quiet snapped.
Mr. Esler picked up the glass of water on his desk, gripping it tighter than necessary.
What will they talk about?
Why does it matter?
The questions burned.
His grip tightened further.
The glass cracked—then shattered.
Sharp pain flared across his palm as blood seeped between his fingers, dripping silently onto the desk.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't curse.
Didn't even breathe differently.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
On a girl who was now part of his fate—whether he wanted it or not.
And on the meeting that shouldn't matter… but did.