NORA
Nora did not look at Ethan once.
Not when she walked in.
Not when she sat down.
Not when Aldridge read the pairings like a judge reading sentences.
Priya with Ethan.
Nora with Daniel.
Nora didn't react.
Her face stayed blank.
Her body stayed still.
Inside, her mind moved like a knife.
Daniel sat two chairs away from her, holding his printed draft like it was a live animal.
He glanced at Nora and then looked away fast.
Good.
Fear was useful.
Fear meant he wouldn't try anything clever.
Aldridge started the workshop like he owned the air.
Procedure update.
Verbal feedback only.
No exchange of marked drafts outside the room.
He didn't say the word collusion again.
He didn't need to.
The whole room could taste it.
Nora watched Aldridge without appearing to watch.
He moved with casual control, hands loose, voice soft.
A man who did not need to raise his voice to dominate.
Nora's jaw tightened.
When it was her turn with Daniel at the front, she kept her eyes on Daniel's pages.
Not on Ethan.
Not on Priya.
Not on anyone.
Daniel began his critique with a throat-clear and an apology.
"Uh," he said. "So. I thought… your opening is really strong."
Nora waited.
Daniel kept talking.
"You have this… control," he said. "Like you know exactly where the sentence is going."
Nora nodded once, as if he were reporting the weather.
Daniel glanced at Aldridge for approval.
Aldridge smiled politely.
Encouraging.
Like Daniel was doing well.
Nora watched that smile.
Aldridge wanted Daniel comfortable.
Comfortable people talked.
Talkative people became witnesses.
Daniel continued.
"And the imagery," he said. "The rain thing. It's— it's powerful. I mean, I can tell you've been—"
Daniel stopped.
He swallowed.
He looked down at his pages like they had betrayed him.
Nora's pulse ticked.
He almost said it.
He almost said you've been working with someone.
Or you've been influenced.
Or you've been transformed.
Nora kept her face calm.
She said, evenly, "Finish the sentence."
Daniel flinched.
"I just meant you've been, like, really focused lately," he said quickly. "It shows."
Nora nodded.
Focused.
Safe word.
Nora glanced at Aldridge.
His smile didn't move.
But his eyes sharpened, just a fraction.
Fishing.
Always.
Nora turned back to Daniel.
"My feedback," she said.
Daniel looked relieved.
He wanted her to speak now.
He wanted her to take control of the room.
Nora did.
She critiqued Daniel the way a surgeon cut.
Not cruel.
Precise.
She spoke about structure.
About pacing.
About the way his metaphors tried too hard to be liked.
About the way his characters apologized before they acted.
Daniel's face went pale as she spoke.
He nodded too fast.
He wrote notes like he was taking dictation.
Aldridge watched, pleased.
When Nora finished, she said one final line.
"Stop asking permission from your own sentences."
Daniel swallowed hard.
"Okay," he whispered.
Nora walked back to her seat without looking at Ethan.
She could feel his presence anyway.
Like heat at her shoulder.
Like gravity.
She hated it.
She needed it.
She couldn't afford it.
When the workshop ended, Aldridge stood by the door and watched them leave.
He wasn't subtle.
He didn't have to be.
Students filed out in pairs and clusters like they were all pretending this was normal.
Nora waited until the room had thinned.
Then she stood and moved toward the door with Daniel.
Daniel was still rattled.
Good.
Rattled people didn't perform.
They complied.
As they walked into the hallway, Daniel cleared his throat.
"Nora," he said.
Nora kept walking.
"Yes," she said.
Daniel hesitated.
Then he said, "You're… different lately."
Nora felt her spine go rigid.
Different was a dangerous word.
Different was how a narrative started.
Nora didn't stop walking.
She said, evenly, "Different how."
Daniel's footsteps faltered.
He rushed to keep up.
"I mean," he said, "you always wrote well, but now it's like— like you're sharper. Like you're cutting through stuff you used to—"
Daniel stopped.
He looked at the floor.
He shook his head like he was trying to undo his own mouth.
Nora kept her face calm.
Inside, she calculated.
How much did he see.
How much did he think he saw.
How much would he say if Aldridge asked.
Nora decided to give him the decoy before Priya could.
She said, "I've been drilling."
Daniel blinked.
"Drilling?" he repeated.
Nora nodded once.
"Old prize winners," she said. "Anonymous passages. I rewrite them and annotate the changes until it's muscle memory."
It sounded boring.
It sounded academic.
It sounded like independence.
Daniel's shoulders loosened like he'd been given permission to believe something safe.
"Oh," he said. "That's… that's smart."
Nora didn't smile.
"It's work," she said.
Daniel nodded.
Then he said, quieter, "Aldridge likes you."
Nora almost laughed.
Aldridge did not like her.
Aldridge liked control.
Nora said, "Aldridge likes results."
Daniel hesitated.
Then he said the line that made Nora's blood go cold.
"He asked me about you before class."
Nora's face stayed neutral.
Her mind snapped into focus.
"What did he ask," she said.
Daniel swallowed.
"He asked if you seemed… distracted," Daniel said. "If you'd been, like, getting help."
Help.
The polite word for collusion.
Nora kept walking.
She made her voice flat.
"What did you say," she asked.
Daniel rushed his answer.
"I said no," he said. "I said you're just— intense. You always were."
Nora's chest tightened.
"Good," she said.
They reached the stairs.
Nora turned down them without slowing.
Daniel followed for two steps.
Then he stopped.
"Wait," he said.
Nora didn't.
Daniel called after her, voice strained.
"I'm not trying to get you in trouble," he said. "I just— I don't want to be used."
Nora paused on the stair, just long enough to make him feel heard.
She didn't turn.
She said, quietly, "Then don't let him."
Then she kept going.
On the second floor landing, her phone buzzed.
A message from Priya.
Priya: Aldridge watched you like a hawk. Daniel is soft. Be careful.
Nora stared at the screen.
Soft.
Soft people bent.
Soft people broke.
Soft people became witnesses.
Nora typed back one line.
Nora: He already asked him.
Priya's dots appeared.
Then:
Priya: Of course he did. He's triangulating. We need to make Daniel fear lying more than he fears Aldridge.
Nora's jaw tightened.
Make Daniel fear lying.
Priya's language was ruthless.
It was also correct.
Nora walked out into the rain.
She didn't take an umbrella.
She wanted the weather to blur her edges.
She wanted to look like every other student hurrying home.
She wanted to be boring.
Boring was safety.
But inside, she felt the opposite of boring.
She felt the pressure of a story being written around her.
Not by her.
By Aldridge.
And the only way to survive was to take the pen back.
By any means that looked like craft.