Chapter 177
Julie’s Point of View
I stepped into the mory-evoking halls of the university, struggling to strip Robert’s harsh words from my mind.
"He only pities ..." Of course he would. How could he not pity a girl he kicked out of his office this morning and refused to touch, only for her to return and embrace him, kissing his cheek? I had tried to seduce him with short clothes; I had even thought about dyeing my hair for him! I must certainly look pathetic in his eyes.
I tried to gather my shattered self, whispering, "Alright Julie, focus on your exam now." But suddenly, the bitter reality struck; I hadn’t studied for two months! I stopped in the middle of the hallway, clutching my head with both hands as terror seeped into my limbs.
"My God, I haven’t studied anything! How will I answer the questions?"
Even though I was always ahead of everyone, studying lessons before they were even presented in the hall, I now felt a paralyzing fear.
I hadn’t opened a book or attended a single lecture. I’ll fail... I’m bound to fail. I walked toward the exam hall with heavy steps, but I froze at the door; the nightmare of failure was hovering around , preventing from entering. I, who used to study daily how could I succeed like this?
Suddenly, I felt the touch of a warm hand on my shoulder. I spun around in a panic to find Professor Weston in his elegant suit, his dium-length brown hair, and his piercing blue eyes.
He smiled upon seeing and said, "Oh, Julie! Thank thank God you ca."
"Hello, Professor Weston..." I said, my voice raspy.
"It’s been a long ti since I’ve seen you at the university," he said, scanning intently. "But they inford yesterday that you were in critical condition... Are you alright now?"
"Critical condition?" Is that what Robert told them? I swallowed hard and said, "Yes, I’m fine now."
"I’m glad to hear that," he said in a strange tone. "You look... different."
I knitted my brows. "How? I don’t understand."
He replied, looking at my classic black trousers and red shirt, "I’m not used to seeing you wear this kind of clothing... you look completely different."
"Oh, yes," I said with foolish fluster. "I changed my style... do you like it?"
My eyes widened in shock at what I had just said.
My God! Did I just ask my professor if he liked my clothes? He gave a strange look that made my heart drop to my feet. He’s going to expel ... he’ll write a report! I didn’t an it; I was just looking for a lie and blurted out this nonsense.
But he simply offered a calm smile. "It’s good."
I finally caught my breath; he didn’t find my words suspicious. He continued, "Well, co on, go inside."
"Professor... I’m scared," I said, my voice filled with despair. "I haven’t studied anything all this ti."
He looked at with his clear blue eyes and said with certainty, "I trust your abilities, Julie. I know you will succeed."
A strange sense of reassurance flowed through my body after his words. "Alright... I’ll go in," I said seriously. I stepped into the hall, and as soon as so girls I knew saw , they stood up imdiately, greeting warmly and firing off a hundred consecutive questions. However, the Professor strictly ordered them back to their seats.
I headed toward a desk in the back row, as was my habit of escaping, but Professor Weston called out audibly, "Julie, sit here." He was pointing to a desk in the very first row. I sat down, my body trembling slightly. He approached my desk, leaned in a bit, and whispered in my ear, "Don’t be afraid... I am with you."
I nodded and smiled at him, but my mind began to wonder: "I am with you?" What does that an? Does he an he’ll support academically or what? I didn’t fully understand his sentence, but I decided to ignore everything and focus only on the exam.
The proctors began distributing the exam papers with stern expressions, while Professor Weston settled into his chair at the front, watching the scene with an eerie calmness.
A proctor approached my desk, and I felt my body stiffen as I watched him place a blue booklet before , along with five full pages of exam questions and case study papers.
But what made my heart leap out of its place was seeing my university ID carefully placed on the table. Where did they get my ID from? It didn’t stop there; he also laid out the specific pens and the specialized calculator used by economics students.
My eyes widened in amazent, a shiver running down my spine. Damn it, did Robert think of all these details? Did he even care about the type of calculator I need? Without realizing it, a sweet, warm smile crept onto my lips as I contemplated these small gestures that showed the extent of his hidden concern.
But I soon rembered his words about "pity." I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug into my skin, and I wiped the smile off my face instantly. I shook my head violently as if chasing his ghost from my imagination. Julie... rember, you won’t be impressed by this man again! I thought firmly.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, then gripped the pen and began reading the first paper, my eyes moving between the lines with focus, trying to retrieve everything my mory had stored before those stormy months.
As soon as I started reading the questions, sothing strange happened; I rembered every piece of information, every comma, and every equation as if I hadn’t stopped studying for a single day.
The silence was broken by Professor Weston’s calm voice: "You have exactly three hours... good luck." He turned toward and gave a warm smile, and I reciprocated as my body began to gradually relax.
I started solving. The blue booklet took 45 minutes of intense focus; I watched the clock hands move in a steady rhythm. Then I moved to the other questions, which devoured another 60 minutes.
I was left with an hour and 15 minutes to face the "Case Study": a failing company on the brink of collapse, and I was required to provide a comprehensive rescue plan.
I began writing like a chanical machine, my fingers moving like lightning across the paper. I finished everything ten minutes before the ti ended.
I reviewed my answers with a pounding heart, then stood up and handed my papers to the Professor. "Did you answer all the questions?" he asked, scanning the paper.
"Yes, Professor," I said confidently.
"Wait for outside," he said in a mysterious tone.
I hesitated. "I have to go." But he insisted, "Wait for ."
I left the hall and stood in the corridor, panic gnawing at . I was terrified that Robert would storm the place at any mont; that man possessed terrifying influence. If he asks what I’m doing here, what will I say? But another question slapped : Why am I afraid? and why don’t I run away now? Yes, run from him, Julie! But to where? If he was capable of bringing you to the exam despite your absence, wouldn’t he bring you back in the blink of an eye? That was the only excuse I used to convince myself not the truth that I had beco unable to bear being away from him.
Running away ant I would never see him again... ever.
Students began exiting as the ti expired, and I stood watching the door until the Professor signaled with his hand to enter. I walked in, and he said, "Close the door behind you, please." I did as he asked and walked toward him slowly.
I found him holding my papers. "I took a quick look at them," he said in amazent, "and I want to say you’ve impressed ."
"Thank you, Professor," I said shyly.
"I had told you about my friend’s company where you’ll work as soon as you graduate," he said seriously.
Yes, he still rembers! He had always supported ; he even thought about my professional future before my graduation. "Yes, and I am very grateful to you," I said thankfully.
He suddenly grabbed my hand and said, "You’ve never let down, Julie... I’m proud of you."
"Thank you, Professor Weston," I said flustered.
He pulled his hand back and took a new phone out of his pocket. "I bought this phone for you before you went missing, but the opportunity to give it to you never arose... and when they told you were coming today, I brought it with ."
My eyes widened in shock.
"Professor... thank you so much, but no... I can’t accept it."
He stood up from his chair and stood before . "Why? Co on, take it."
"No, I certainly won’t accept it," I insisted.
"Consider it a gift for how much you’ve excelled yourself," he replied with irritation.
"I really can’t accept it," I said again.
He exhaled in frustration. "Really, Julie? You’re rejecting my gift?"
You don’t know that I’m a prisoner and I’m not allowed to own a phone! "Fine, I’ll take it," I said helplessly.
He said with a strange smile, "I’ve saved my number in your phone, and I’ve saved yours in mine."
I felt a chill sweep through . Oh, Professor... you just recorded my date of death!
He continued, "I don’t think we’ll stop seeing each other for the coming year... I hope to see you during the break."
Why does he want to see during the break? and why is he buying a phone? I shook my head and said quickly, "I have to go now."
"Without a goodbye?" he asked.
Goodbye for what? Since when do we say goodbye to professors? Suddenly, he pulled in and hugged tightly. "My brilliant student... I’ll miss you."
I froze completely; I didn’t know what to say. Is my professor hugging and saying he’ll miss ? My hands remained hanging in the air while I felt his hard body and his arms wrapping around with force.
He let go and said, "You may go."
I ran out. I was very tense and confused by what the Professor had done, but I tried to convince myself it was a friendly farewell. I noticed the phone in my hand; I put it on silent imdiately and hid it in my trouser pocket.
When I reached the university gate, my breath hitched and I froze in my tracks.
Standing directly in front of ... blonde hair, green eyes... but he had changed a lot.
He had grown taller, and his body was massive with prominent, terrifying muscles. I said in a trembling voice that was barely audible:
"Steve?"
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