What lies in the shadow : From university to unexpected love.

The apartment is quieter than usual this morning. Amy is packing her things, her suitcase nearly full, the last few items being neatly folded into place. She's heading out for a conference. It is something she's been looking forward to for weeks, and she'll be away for the entire weekend. I am not sure what to expect while Amy's gone, but part of me feels relieved to have the space for myself. It's been a strange few days with the mysterious pasta gift, unsettling feelings I have, and now the creeping suspicion that someone might be following me. What if my secret valentine was a stalker ?

I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my clothes before heading out. Today's outfit is simple, black jeans, black tank top and a wine wool cardigan. As she walks toward the door, Amy gives me a half-hearted wave.

"Good luck with the lecture," Amy says with a teasing smile, her arms full with her bags. "And don't do anything... too interesting without me."

I roll my eyes at the joke. "I'll try to resist the temptation," I reply dryly. "Have a good weekend."

With that, Amy is gone, and the apartment falls suddenly still. I take a deep breath and leave soon after, heading for the universities' lecture hall. The day ahead promises to be just like any other, or so I hope. The oddities from the past week are starting to wear on my nerves, and I need to focus on something else for a while. I don't enjoy giving lessons that much, but it is part of the job.

***

The lecture goes well, as usual. I stand in front of my students, guiding them through complex concepts. Their faces flicker between curiosity and occasional confusion. By the end, I've answered most of their questions, and they seem satisfied. I close my notes and glance at the clock. Time to wrap things up.

"If there are no more questions, I'll let you go for today," I say, feeling that familiar wave of relief when a class ends smoothly. I have to admit, teaching is not my favorite thing. But it is a part of the job.

Just as I start packing my things, someone raises a hand. I pause and nod.

"Yes, Sarah?"

She hesitates, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Professor, when will our grades be available?"

I smile. Of course the grades. "Tonight. I'll upload them once I finish reviewing the last few papers with doctor Taylor."

She nods, satisfied, and I return to gathering my things but then, from the back of the room, another voice cuts in.

"Professor," Michael calls, his tone far too casual. "Isn't it true that you often spend your nights… with Taylor? I mean, we've heard you leave his office pretty late."

The words hit like a slap. My breath catches. What if there was really a stalker among the students? I look at him, trying to keep my face unreadable. "What do you mean?" I ask, evenly.

"Oh, you know," he says with a shrug, that irritating smirk tugging at his mouth. "You're always the last one out of his office. It's kind of obvious, don't you think?"

I force a tight smile. "That's none of your business, Michael. Research is quite time consuming. And the more mistakes you all make in your homework, the more time I have to spend reading it." My tone is sharper than I intended. "Now, if there are no more questions, you're dismissed. And yes, I'll upload the grades tonight, so be patient."

The room falls silent. Then the noises rise again as everyone gathers their things to leave. No one dares say another word. But I can not shake the feeling of unease that has settled over me. Michael's insinuation feels like more than just an offhand comment. It feels deliberate, like someone had planted that idea, perhaps to play a joke on me ? The idea of being watched, of someone creating rumors about me, feels too much for me to handle.

I'm rattled.

I sit back down, hands shaking slightly. That didn't feel like a joke, it felt planted, like someone's been watching me. The anonymous card. The food delivery. The sensation of being followed. It all starts to make sense when you put it all together. Is it possible, is it likely, that one of those students is behind all of it ? Like a really twisted joke that could cost me my job.

The thought gnaws at me, and my fingers lingers on the edge of the desk as I try to steady myself. I don't want to believe it. I don't want to imagine that any of my students, that I've been teaching for months, would stoop so low. 

I collect my things and leave the lecture hall, but my mind is racing. If it is one of them… who? And why? What's the point of it all?

Outside, the air is cool against my skin, but it doesn't clear my head. No answers come. Only more questions.