Chapter 8: Isabella's boyfriend
[London]
Isabella adjusted her bag strap over her shoulder as she hurried toward the lecturer's cabin. A course assignment grades were released earlier that day and to Isabella's shock, she scored 0.
She was confident in her work. She had spent days researching and drafting the report. She didn't understand why she got a 0, and there was no feedback.
So here she was, standing in front of the professors cabin to get a feedback. She knocked on the glass door lightly.
"Come in," a voice called from within, sharp and clipped.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
Professor Grayson sat behind his desk, an older man with thinning hair and a stern demeanor. Papers and books were scattered across his desk in a carefully cultivated chaos.
He gestured for her to sit without looking up from the document he was pretending to review.
"Professor, I am here to discuss about my assignment report." she said politely as she slid into the chair opposite him, setting her bag down at her feet.
He finally looked up, his beady eyes narrowing in on her. A thin, unsettling smile crept across his lips.
"Yes, about your report," he began, leaning back in his chair. "I've noticed you've been struggling with the structure. It's… lacking."
Isabella's brows slightly furrowed. No matter what it lacked, she was positive that she turned in a good work. It didn't deserve a 0 out of 100.
"I'd be happy to make improvements," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm, "if you could provide specific feedback."
He stood suddenly, walking around his desk to lean against the edge directly in front of her. The proximity made her uncomfortable, and she instinctively straightened in her chair.
"You know," he said, his tone shifting to something disturbingly casual, "I've been keeping an eye on you. You're… quite the promising student. Very… capable."
Her stomach churned at the way he lingered on the word. She forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Professor. I'm working hard to excel in my studies."
His gaze drifted lower, and she felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Hard work isn't always enough," he said softly. "Sometimes… it helps to have someone on your side. Someone who can… support you."
The implication was unmistakable, and she shot to her feet, her heart pounding.
"I think I understand where this is going," she said, her voice steady but laced with anger. "And I have no interest in… whatever you're suggesting."
His smile faded, replaced with a cold glare. He stepped closer, and she instinctively backed away until her legs hit the chair.
"Be careful, Miss Campbell," he hissed. "You wouldn't want to fail this course, would you? It's a shame how easily grades can be… adjusted."
Her hands clenched into fists. "If you think you can threaten me into silence, you're sorely mistaken," she said firmly. "I'll report you to the administration."
He laughed, a low, menacing sound.
"Oh, you can try. But do you really think they'll believe a little student over a tenured professor? You're not the first to try, and you won't be the last. Besides," he added with a smug grin, "I have powerful friends. People who can make life very… unpleasant for troublemakers like you."
He straightened, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket.
"I'll give you another chance. Meet me here tomorrow, same time, and we'll… discuss your report again in detail. Don't show up, and I'll have no choice but to report you for plagiarism. That's an automatic fail, you know."
Isabella's breath hitched, feeling both disgusted and angry. She didn't say another word.
Grabbing her bag, she rushed out of the cabin, her mind racing and her heart pounding in her chest.
The air in the hallway felt stifling, her vision blurring as she tried to process what had just happened, so she ran into the washroom cubicle and tightly her bag leaning against the door.
She felt unsafe and tainted, as though she couldn't scrub off the professor's lecherous gaze no matter how hard she tried. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, her jaw tightening.
She couldn't fail, else she loses her scholarship. But she wouldn't submit to that lustful man either.
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The basketball court buzzed with energy, the rhythmic pounding of the ball on the concrete mingling with the shouts and cheers of Dylan and his classmates.
Dylan, his shirt damp with sweat, skillfully dribbled past an opponent and went for a clean layup, earning cheers from his team.
"Man, Dylan's on fire today!" one of his classmates hollered, clapping him on the back as Dylan grinned, catching his breath.
"Hey," another guy called out, his voice laced with excitement. He pointed past the court toward the expansive green field nearby. "Isn't that Campbell?"
Dylan froze mid-laugh, the ball slipping from his fingers as he turned to follow the direction of the finger. Across the field, under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, sat Isabella.
She was perched on the grass with a book in her hands, her hair glinting like gold in the sunlight. She looked serene, utterly absorbed in the pages before her.
"Yeah, that's her," someone else confirmed, awe evident in their voice. "The girl who sang at the welcome party. Remember? That song? Damn, I still think about it."
"Who doesn't?" another chimed in, chuckling. "I swear, half of the department fell in love with her that day."
The game came to an abrupt halt as every head turned toward the figure in the distance. The group stood, leaning against the steel fence of the court, murmuring amongst themselves.
Dylan's lips unknowingly curled into a soft smile. He didn't say anything, but a quiet warmth flickered in his chest as he watched her, peacefully sitting there.
Without really thinking, he stepped off the court, dribbling the ball absently, intending to go say hi.
But just as he started across the grass, someone else entered the scene.
"Uh, wait a second," one of the guys said, his voice dropping in curiosity. "Who's that?"
A tall, broad-shouldered man had approached Isabella, his confident strides and easy posture giving off an air of authority.
Dylan stopped in his tracks, the basketball bouncing once before settling at his feet. He narrowed his eyes slightly as the stranger leaned down to say something to Isabella.
The group watched in silence, riveted. The man sat down beside her, close enough to suggest familiarity but still leaving a respectful distance. Isabella smiled warmly at him, her face lighting up as they exchanged a few words.
Then, after a moment, the man reached out and patted her shoulder, standing up again. He said something else—his tone unreadable from the distance—and Isabella nodded, giving him a small wave as he walked away.
Isabella lingered for a moment, staring after him thoughtfully, before returning to her book.
"Damn," one of the guys muttered, breaking the silence. "That's it. She's got a boyfriend."
"What do you expect?" another added, shaking his head. "A girl like her? No way she's single."
"Wait, isn't that guy a senior from the law department? Topper or something?" one of them asked, piecing it together.
"Yeah, I've seen him around—he's kind of a big deal. Makes sense she's with him."
Their murmurs filled the court, speculation growing louder and more exaggerated with each passing second.
Dylan, however, stayed silent. His jaw tightened as he stared at Isabella, his earlier warmth replaced with a cold knot in his stomach. The stranger's easy confidence, Isabella's welcoming smile -- every detail played over in his mind, stoking his frustration.
One of his classmates nudged him. "Hey, Dylan. Game's still on. You coming?"
Dylan didn't answer. He kicked the ball lightly away from him and turned back toward the court. "You guys play," he muttered, his voice clipped.
"What's up with him?" someone whispered as Dylan stormed off, heading toward the locker room.
He didn't look back at Isabella or the group. He just needed to clear his head, and basketball suddenly felt like the last thing he wanted to do.
It wasn't like he never saw Isabella talking to opposite gender. They both grew up in the orphanage together. He had seen her befriend everyone. But today, he didn't want to admit it, but he felt jealous.
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Isabella unlocked the door and stepped inside her small studio.
She sighed and dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes.
Sitting on the chair, she massaged her feet which were aching from hours of standing at the cafe.
It was an exhausting day. Both mentally, emotionally and physically.
Taking out her phone, she texted Dylan about his whereabouts. It was already 9PM. Dylan would always be back by this time. Especially to pick her up. Today there was not even single message from Dylan.
Isa - Hey, you okay? When are you coming back?
The reply came almost immediately.
Dylan - Staying at my friend's place tonight. Group project.
Isabella stared at the screen for a moment. It made sense. Dylan had mentioned earlier in the week that he was working on a group project. And yet, she couldn't shake off the slight unease and disappointment settling in her chest.
Isa - Alright. Take care.
The weight in her chest grew heavier.
She hadn't realized it before, but she felt safe with him around. Knowing he was there, even if they were just sitting in silence, gave her a sense of security she hadn't fully appreciated until now. And without him here tonight, the studio felt emptier than it ever had.
Isabella shook her head, trying to shake off the vulnerability creeping into her thoughts.
She wasn't a child anymore, and she didn't need anyone to make her feel safe. At least, that's what she told herself.