Marriam Mayo stood outside the oak-paneled door of Dr. Jay Morado's office, her heart pounding in her chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, save for the distant hum of a printer down the hall. She clutched the strap of her satchel, feeling its familiar weight pressing against her side, as if grounding her to this moment. She had heard stories about him—the stories that made students quiver at the mention of his name. Rumors swirled around the faculty like whispers of a ghost: a genius, they said, but a hard man to please.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked. Once. Twice.
"Enter," a deep, gravelly voice commanded from inside.
Pushing the door open, Marriam stepped into the office. Her gaze swept over the room—bookshelves lined with an impossible number of books, dark wood furniture, and a single window that let in a narrow beam of afternoon sunlight. Behind a large desk sat Dr. Jay Morado, his piercing gray eyes already on her, dissecting her with a look that could cut glass.
"Miss Mayo, I presume?" he asked, his voice as cold as the rumors suggested.
"Yes, Professor Morado," Marriam replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She noticed the way his eyes narrowed, as if searching for something in her expression. She didn't dare look away.
"You're here for the internship," he continued, his tone clipped. "Why should I choose you over the others?"
Marriam straightened her back, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline she always felt when challenged. "Because, sir, I'm not like the others. I'm not here to follow; I'm here to learn, to challenge, and to be challenged."
There was a moment of silence, a tense pause that seemed to stretch longer than it should have. And then, for a split second, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, almost like a smile. Almost.
"Very well," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "Let's see if you can keep up."
The First Heated Debate
Marriam sat at the corner of Dr. Jay Morado's office, a stack of books piled high on her lap. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the kind that wrapped around you like a thick fog, suffocating yet strangely comforting. She could hear the ticking of the antique clock on the wall, counting down the seconds of her first day as his intern.
Dr. Morado was at his desk, scribbling notes in the margins of a well-worn book. His brow furrowed in concentration, and Marriam found herself wondering what went on behind those piercing gray eyes. She wasn't sure if she was more fascinated or intimidated by him. Probably both.
"Miss Mayo," his voice cut through the silence like a knife, "I assume you've read the text I assigned."
"Yes, Professor Morado," she replied, clearing her throat. "Jane Eyre, as you requested. I have some notes prepared for discussion."
He glanced up, his eyes sharp as ever. "Good. Then let's begin." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What is your interpretation of Mr. Rochester's character arc?"
Marriam didn't miss a beat. "I believe Rochester represents the patriarchal struggle for control, both over his household and over Jane herself. His actions throughout the novel reveal a toxic possessiveness masked as love."
A faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips—amusement or annoyance, she couldn't tell. "An interesting perspective, Miss Mayo, though somewhat… simplistic. Brontë's intention, however, was to illustrate a man torn between his moral obligations and his passions, not merely a power-hungry patriarch."
Marriam's cheeks flushed, but not with embarrassment—with determination. She leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Respectfully, Professor, I disagree. While Brontë may have intended to portray Rochester as a complex, tragic hero, his actions suggest a more troubling dynamic. The way he manipulates Jane and keeps Bertha hidden in the attic could be interpreted as a metaphor for the suppression of women's voices and autonomy in that era."
Dr. Morado's eyes narrowed, a glint of challenge in them. "You're taking a modern feminist lens to a Victorian novel, which—while fashionable—is hardly the full picture. Rochester is a product of his time, Miss Mayo. To judge him solely by today's standards is to miss the nuance of his character."
Marriam felt a spark ignite within her. She was on fire now, fueled by the thrill of debate. "I'm not dismissing the historical context, Professor. I'm merely suggesting that Brontë's work can be analyzed through multiple lenses—one of which reveals that even in his complexity, Rochester embodies the flaws of his time. That doesn't absolve him; it complicates him."
For a moment, the room was thick with tension. Dr. Morado's eyes bore into hers, as if searching for something—what, she wasn't sure. Then, slowly, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk.
"You're quite bold, Miss Mayo," he said, his voice softer, almost a whisper. "Not many would dare to contradict me so openly on their first day."
Marriam's heart was pounding, but she refused to look away. "I'm not like most, Professor."
A pause. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. "Indeed, you're not."
Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. It was charged, filled with an energy Marriam couldn't quite place. She felt her breath quicken, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes—something that looked like intrigue.
Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
Dr. Morado leaned back again, breaking the moment. "Very well. Let's see how far your boldness takes you. Tomorrow, I want you to analyze Jane's internal monologue in Chapter 27 and argue how it reflects her struggle between passion and principle. Be prepared to defend your stance."
Marriam nodded, the corners of her lips curling into a small, victorious smile. "I will, Professor."
He said nothing more, simply returning to his book. But as Marriam gathered her things to leave, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her back, heavy and lingering.
As she stepped out of his office, a thrill shot through her veins. She had challenged him, and he hadn't dismissed her. If anything, he seemed… intrigued. The thought made her pulse quicken.
She knew one thing for certain: this internship would be anything but ordinary.
Scene 2: After the Heated Debate
Marriam paced back and forth in her dorm room, the adrenaline from the debate still coursing through her veins. She could feel her face flush as she replayed Jay's cutting remarks in her head. Despite his harsh critique, she couldn't help but feel a thrill. There was something in the way he challenged her that made her want to prove him wrong, to show him that she was more than just an ambitious student.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought. It was a text from her friend, Layla: "Spill. What happened with Dr. Morado today? Everyone's talking about it!" Marriam sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, not quite sure what to say.
Meanwhile, Jay sat in his office, his fingers drumming against the desk. He hadn't anticipated that the new student would be so fiery, so… bold. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty lecture hall through the window. She had been defiant, unapologetic, and fiercely intelligent. It stirred something in him he hadn't felt in years. But he couldn't afford to let his feelings cloud his judgment—he was her professor, after all.
Their worlds were on a collision course, and both of them knew it. But for now, they were left with the remnants of the debate, and an undeniable pull that was becoming harder to resist.
♧