28. Nyssa

28

NYSSA

ME AND MY HUSBAND - MITSKI

Professor Adler is waiting at the front of the classroom come Monday morning after winter break. My heart stops as my feet do. I hover in the doorway to the lecture hall, clutching my bookbag over my shoulder, my skin running cold.

Heather's right behind me and makes a sound of annoyance. "Nyssie, hello? Move out of the way so the rest of us can walk in."

"Oh… sorry…" I step aside, then my gaze snaps back toward the front.

My eyes meet his.

His dark, mysterious pools that are already on me. His face more stoic than I've ever seen it.

A shiver courses my spine. I blink and look away, stumbling toward my desk next to Heather.

What in the hell is he doing here? I thought after that night…

Actually, I'm not sure what I thought would happen.

I just know that I didn't expect to return from my trip to Roseburg and find Professor Adler waiting to resume criminal law as scheduled.

"Silence," Professor Adler demands the instant the clock strikes ten.

The soft murmurs around the room die off and he peers at his captive audience with a distinctly unimpressed air.

For everyone else in the room, it's the same Professor Adler he's always been. For me, after everything we've been through, it feels like I've walked into some alternate universe.

Our relationship never happened.

The past three months have been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

…until a news alert pops up on my phone with the headline:

Where is Samson Wicker? Where Has the Son of Recently Deceased Billionaire Jackson Wicker Gone?

My head's bowed, my attention on my phone screen and nothing else.

"Miss Oliver," comes the smooth, commanding voice from the front of the room. "How about you put your phone away during classroom hours so that you might actually learn something?"

Professor Adler's reprimand feels like a slap across the face. My cheeks warm as other students shoot me amused looks like I haven't outperformed every single one of them in this class.

"Sorry, Professor," I mutter.

But I'm ignored.

Professor Adler presses on like I haven't uttered a word. He instructs us to open the case study folders we've been given and then proceeds to quiz us on various legal elements involved in the case.

Jose Zardoya raises his hand from the front of the room to answer his question about double jeopardy. My hand is up in the air too, as it's often been during class, eager to show Professor Adler what I know.

Zardoya's called on. He answers, and Professor Adler gives an impressed nod of his head.

The class rolls on. Some students, like Heather, begin to lose steam. As the topic shifts to the jury deliberation for the case, Heather's admiring the glossy finish on her gel nails.

When the next question comes, my arm's shooting up to answer first.

Professor Adler skips right over me and selects Macey instead.

The hollowness I'd felt over winter break returns. It's a bottomless sensation that tricks my mind into thinking my body's in free fall.

Really, it's my heart. The manifestation that represents the feelings I've developed.

Try as I might, I can't pretend it wasn't real.

The relationship Professor Adler— Theron —and I had wasn't as pretend as I'd originally intended. Though I might've betrayed him the night he murdered Samson, it doesn't mean it was an easy decision to make.

It was the hardest move I've made yet, not warning him about the police on the way. Letting him find out firsthand as they showed up.

In this revenge plot I've been carrying out, it was like betraying the one person who hadn't hurt me in some capacity.

…but he has hurt you .

He's Valentine. He murdered your mother. Your real mother.

The whisper is like a hiss in my ear. An icy, slithery reminder that I'm devoted to my mission until the very end.

…but what if he didn't? What if it's all a lie?

The counter question sounds as a much stronger, clearer voice that's closer to my own. I squeeze shut my eyes and bow my head as if it's too heavy to hold up when it's the conflicting thoughts doing me in.

What if it really is all a lie?

Winter break in Roseburg with Mom hadn't exactly been a joyous occasion. It was so bad, I left early. I scraped together some savings and stayed in a local bed and breakfast to bide my time away not only from Theron and Castlebury, but now Mom as well.

I'm not your mother.

Four words that have been so earth shattering, I haven't finished processing them yet. I could barely speak trying to wrap my head around what she was saying. Her mood shifted from indignant and chiding to resigned and regretful.

Macey's still answering Professor Adler's question when the moment plays back to me in the middle of class…

"I guess it's true what they say. Secrets born in the dark will always die in the light. There's no escaping it," Mom sighed.

I said nothing, letting the loud silence speak for me.

"Nys," Mom said when my silence became unbearable. "Please answer me."

I sat borderline catatonic in the same chair I'd eaten breakfast in for years as a clueless teen girl. I'd done my homework in this chair. We'd decorated gingerbread cookies at this table. I cried here the night of my first date when Trey Smith stood me up…

Mom slid back into her seat and reached for my hand. "Baby girl ? —"

"Don't call me that," I snapped, wrenching my hand away. I eyed her like I never had before, like she was one of them. One of the people who had ruined our lives.

Maybe she was.

Everything I ever thought was true seemed not to be…

She sighed. "You've got to understand, Nyssa. Decisions had to be made."

"Decisions?" I choked out. "What was I? Some stray you found and didn't know if you wanted?"

"I'm your aunt," she said. "I was Josalyn's older sister. She was only nineteen when she got pregnant. Far too young to be. It would've ruined her life if anyone at Castlebury found out."

I jolt like I've been pricked by a needle.

There's movement all around me. The other students are gathering their things and making their way over to the door.

Class has ended.

Heather smirks at me. "You're really out of it today, Nyssie. Should I be concerned?"

It's a question posed as a joke.

It's facetious, bordering on ridicule. Heather flips her strawberry blonde locks over her shoulder and slides out of her desk with hardly any concern at all. Collecting my things, I'm aware this is her subtle way of getting back at me.

Yet another moment for the frenemy memory banks.

But I'm much more concerned about the man at the front of the room.

Hugging my books to my chest, I approach his desk craving… something.

Anything .

A crumb, a morsel, a sliver of his attention.

His validation.

The way he used to make me feel like I was worth the world. I was special and he was in awe of me.

I stop in front of his desk and wait for him to acknowledge my presence. Pin me with an intense stare through the lens of his black-framed glasses or utter my name in that cool, harsh voice of his that is like fine leather…

Instead, he jots away in some type of ledger as he ignores my presence.

We're back to square one.

I clear my throat. "Professor Adler?—"

"Class is over," he says. "Please see yourself out."

Hannah Fochte is making it to the door as I glance over my shoulder to make sure we're alone. The door snicks shut once she's out of the cavernous room, granting me permission to drop my polite act.

"Theron," I say, "we need to talk?—"

"You are to address me as Professor Adler," he scolds immediately. "I believe I made that quite clear on the first day of class, did I not, Miss Oliver?"

My heart races as his gaze snaps up to my face for the first time since I've approached his desk. Heat rises from the inside, almost making me dizzy. His burning stare alone is enough to remind me how I'd fallen so deep down the rabbit hole.

How I let things get as far, as real, as they did…

"Professor Adler," I correct. "Can we talk?"

"There is nothing to discuss. Please show yourself out."

My brows knit. "But I want to explain why I did what I did."

"Even if I had any clue what you were talking about, Miss Oliver, I wouldn't care. "

"Us," I say, stepping even closer to his desk. My arms tighten around my books. "Me and you. Everything that's happened between us?—"

"Let's get one thing straight. There is no us . There is nothing between you and me. You are just one student of many in my class. You are mistaken."

"There is an us!" I argue. "We've slept together… many times. You've slept in my bed. I've bathed in your bathtub. We talked about a future?—"

"You. Are. Mistaken." He pops to his feet on a dangerous pulse of anger that feels like it could quickly spiral out of control. He thrusts a finger in the direction of the exit. "See yourself out. I believe I've asked three times now. There won't be a fourth. Campus security will simply be called."

So thrown by his blatant denial of our history together, I find myself without a real defense. I blink at him in shock and offense, as if it'll make any difference.

It doesn't.

He sits back down, picks up his pen, and begins furiously scribbling in his ledger all over again. His face sharpens in concentration. His glasses sit perched on his strong, straight nose while a lock of his unruly dark hair brushes his brow.

He's ignoring me. Pretending like I don't exist.

We never existed.

It's worse than outright condemnation.

I'd almost rather he bend me over the desk and take the yardstick to my ass…

When several seconds go by and nothing changes, I finally take the hint.

I show myself out, feeling lost and hollow.

For the rest of the afternoon, I'm a wanderer. I roam the campus, going from the darkest corners of the library to the farthest patches of land neighboring the pine forest. The same forest that holds so many secrets.

Professor Adler had driven to the northern edges just to dispose of Samson. Had he disposed of bodies there before?

I don't know what to think as I sit down on a stone bench and drop my face into my hands.

"I don't understand why you've lied," I said, my throat aching with every word.

"Would it have made it any better to know the truth?" Mom asked.

"You mean that you're my aunt and not my mother? You mean that my entire life has been a lie!?"

"No," Mom snapped immediately. Aunt Brook snapped as she grew indignant again. "You think we had any other choice? Your mother couldn't be in those circles as a young, pregnant teen girl… a Black girl. She would've been outcast. Banished."

"Isn't that what happened anyway, or was that all a lie too?"

"The mistreatment Jos suffered was not a lie."

"So she was found out? And what about Edward Oliver? That a lie too?!"

Aunt Brook shut down after that. With a somber shake of her head, she left the room and refused to answer…

Peaches gives a squeaky little meow when I walk through the apartment door. She's waiting for me perched on the armrest of my sofa, her bright eyes shining with affection.

I walk over to scratch behind her pointy ears. "You're my only companion, my sweet girl. Everything else… everyone else…"

…it's all a lie.

She leaps into my lap as I plop down on the sofa and stare blankly at my latest sculpture. Where do I go from here? Should I carry on with my revenge? How can I when it seems so many secrets and lies have been exposed and I can no longer tell what's real anymore?

A week goes by where I'm trapped in a sullen stupor. Concentrating on any task feels near impossible. My course work piles up by the hour. Any art projects are indefinitely on hold. Outside of class, only quick runs to the local market, no one sees me.

I lock myself into my apartment and drive myself to the brink of insanity.

The worst part is Professor Adler's denial.

Every time I show up in his class with eyes only for him, he has eyes for everyone else.

He's icing me out. He's pushing me away, treating me like I'm nothing.

Less than nothing.

And though it might be deserved for what I did, it makes my chest hurt. I find it difficult to breathe as the hour stretches on and he calls on Heather Driscoll with her broad, boastful smile. She shoots me a sidelong glance once she gives him the wrong answer and he offers an amusing quip versus the condescending retort he'd utter in the past.

It's the academic version of torture—your favorite professor that you admire, ignoring your existence for the blonde twit who can barely read.

The envy blooms inside me like a toxin that's poisonous yet incurable. Rationale tells me to let it go. Clearly, things between us are over.

Professor Adler is moving on. He wants nothing to do with me .

I should take it as a sign to either proceed with the rest of my plan or figure out a new path forward.

That would be the sane, rational thing to do.

Yet as Friday morning rolls around and I meet up with Macey in the student union, she informs me Heather won't be joining us for coffee.

Macey shrugs, her attention fixed on the menu up ahead. "Heather will meet us in class. Something about Professor Adler asking her to come by his office an hour before class starts."

An arctic chill washes over me. I go still at once, like I've been delivered the worst news of my life.

"What is it?" Macey asks, barely noticing. "Don't tell me you're mad about the flavors they're offering again?—"

"I have to go."

Macey asks me where, but I'm already half out the glass door of the student union. People grumble and rush to step aside as I shoulder my way through the crowds in the long, tunneled hallways.

I pivot at the next intersection and then dash up a cascade of stone steps. My bookbag slaps against my back as I trot across campus in record time.

He wouldn't… he wouldn't…

The two words are all I can manage of the incomplete thought, practically gasping for air. I round the corner in time to spot Heather's golden head bobbing among the other students clogging up the corridor. She's headed straight for the hall that leads to Professor Adler's office.

No! NO!

The scream is deafening inside my head. The panic that grips me is sweeping. I rush down the rest of the hall, heartbroken and desperate to intervene .

He can't replace me with her. He can't see in her what he saw in me.

He wouldn't… he wouldn't… HE WOULDN'T.

I fling open his office door and barge inside without knocking.

I make it three steps past the threshold before I realize Heather's not in here. She must've gone through a different door.

"Wha…?"

"Hello, Miss Oliver," comes a familiar smooth, authoritative voice from behind me. "I had a feeling you'd show up."

The door swings shut with a resounding thud. He steps up behind me as the air empties from my lungs. Yet I find I can't turn around. I can't bring myself to, vaguely aware that it would mean trouble.

It would only confirm what I've walked into.

"Professor," I mutter breathlessly, "I thought… I followed…"

"Yes, I know. Because I know everything there is to know about you. I told Miss Eurwen about Driscoll meeting me. I knew she'd tell you. And I knew you couldn't resist," he says, gripping me by the waist. His other hand comes up toward the side of my neck and I feel the sharp prick of a needle piercing my skin.

My legs give out almost instantly, no longer able to hold myself up. I slip backward into his arms, left peering upside down at him and the twisted smirk spreading across his face. The edges of my vision have begun to blacken, consciousness fading away.

"Believe me when I say, Miss Oliver… we're about to get to know each other exceptionally well."