Chapter 25

Avery’s POV

I stormed out of her office. Her words cut sharper than the cold air outside.

My chest heaved from shouting at her and the confusion burning through me. I had not meant to yell or throw my messy feelings into her face, but it snapped loose in that moment.

My footsteps carried me on autopilot, a disoriented blur. My entire being remained trapped inside that silent office.

The sharpness of her voice echoed: “No one raises their voice at me, Carter. Be careful.” The warning, the authority, and the brutal dismissal were too much to process.

By the time I reached the lecture hall, I barely registered the room filling. Students shuffled in with an academic clatter, and the murmur of whispers grew, but it all blurred into a muffled background noise.

Then, she walked in. Her presence filled the room as it always did—poised, powerful, and untouchable. For me, it was unbearable, a pain in my chest.

My chest tightened the moment her eyes swept across the class. For a second, I thought she looked at me differently, as though the echo of our confrontation followed her here. But then her gaze shifted, detached and professional, and I wondered if I had imagined the moment.

The lecture began. Her voice filled the room—firm, steady, authoritative—as if nothing had transpired moments ago. I sat there, staring at my notebook, my pen hovering above the page.

I could not focus. Not on the theories or the slides, but on the tension coiled inside my core. Every so often, I risked a glance up, trying to catch her eyes. But she never looked my way. If she did, it was so swift that it felt like an intentional rejection rather than a professional acknowledgment.

By the time the bell ended the lecture, my decision was made. I had to see her again. I had to apologize or explain, because I could not stand this suffocating silence between us.

I walked to her office. My pulse pounded with each step, as though my heart feared the consequence waiting on the other side of that door. I reached for the handle—

Click. Locked. My stomach dropped, the breath catching in my throat.

“No… no, no…” I muttered, tugging at the door handle as though my will might force it to yield. It did not. She was gone.

“Ms. Carter,” a voice called out behind me. I spun around. The university peon stood there, a stack of papers in his hand, his expression noncommittal. “Professor Rose asked me to tell you—there will be no TA duties for you this entire week. You’re free of responsibility.”

The blunt words hit me harder than a slap. “Free?” My voice cracked, thin and pathetic. He nodded, without care. “Yes. No work for you this entire week.” He turned and walked away, leaving me frozen in the corridor.

No work. No office. No reason to see her. It was not just a locked door; it was her. She was shutting me out of her life. I leaned against the marble wall, my breath trembling.

My mind replayed everything—her hands gripping my collar, her words, the dismissal—it all spun together. The realization sank in. She had opened a door, letting me glimpse the woman beneath the professor. But when I stepped too close, she slammed it shut.

I pressed my palm against the wood of her door, whispering, “Why… why are you doing this to me?” There was no answer, only the empty silence of the corridor. I pulled myself away, forcing my legs to walk. Each echo of my footsteps felt final, as though I was walking away not just from her office, but from her entirely.

That evening, Emily waited as I stepped into the mansion. “Oh, my darling,” she greeted me, her voice tinged with concern, “you look exhausted, Avery.”

I managed a faint smile. “Just… a long day, Emily.” She studied me with knowing eyes, then set a plate of food in front of me. “You used a sick leave excuse yesterday, but you look sicker today. True rest doesn’t feel like this. Since I’m here, I cooked something healthy. Freshen up first, darling.”

I almost managed a choked laugh. How could I explain that nothing could fill the hollow emptiness clawing at my chest? I went to my room, showered, and returned to the table. I ate quietly, grateful for her care. When the meal was done, I slipped away to my sanctuary—the roof.

The night sky stretched above, millions of stars shimmering in the darkness. I stared upward, searching for peace or maybe her face superimposed onto the constellations. When I closed my tired eyes, I saw her again. Ms. Rose. Her expression, her scolding, her silence, her fleeting care. Everything about her consumed me.

Now, she was the person shutting me out. The roof was quiet. Too quiet. I lay back against the marble, the breeze carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth. Above me, the sky stretched wide and indifferent. None of it—not the stars, not the silence, not Emily’s concern—comforted me.

Inside me, a storm raged. Her voice echoed like a wound that would not stop bleeding. “No one raises their voice at me, Carter. Be careful.” The authority in her tone should have silenced my heart. But instead, it burned.

Not because she scolded me. Not because she dismissed me. But because in her words, there had been something else—something profound she refused to admit. Care. The forbidden word she forbade me from joking about. The word she was punishing me for suggesting was true.

Why did she lock her office and take away my TA duties when she had allowed me close enough to glimpse the cracks in her armor? It made no sense. That confusion clawed at my insides. I closed my eyes, but that only made the memory worse.

I saw her vividly. Her hand gripped my collar. The fire in her eyes when I shouted back. The silence when I asked, “Why do you even care?” Why did she look at me that way? Why did her voice falter when she ordered me never to joke about such things?

Why did it feel like her anger was not just about my behavior, but about the truth I was circling too close to? My chest tightened. It was unbearable. I turned onto my side, pressing my forehead against my arm, trying to breathe past the ache in my ribs.

The storm refused to settle. I thought of the locked door—the message that I was “free.” Free. As though cutting me away was an act of kindness. As though she could dismiss me like a task on a list. It hurt more than I was willing to admit. It was not about the work. It was about losing the thread that tethered me to her world. Now, she had cut it.

I sat up, pulling at my hair, my frustration spilling out in a whisper. “Damn it, why… why do you do this to me, Ms. Rose?” My voice echoed in the night air, swallowed by the stars. “You push me away, then you pull me back in. You… you don’t even allow me to breathe, Professor Rose.”

Her name caught in my throat, heavy with emotion. I hugged my knees, warding off the cold. No matter how tightly I curled, the storm did not quiet. It thundered, demanding answers. Why did she affect me like this? Why could I not be angry and move on? Why did her absence feel like a hollow ache no distraction could fill?

I tilted my head back, staring at the stars. They blurred through the sting in my eyes. For a moment, I hated myself for being so weak. Von Carters do not break. Von Carters do not beg for attention. Von Carters do not lose themselves. But I was not a perfect Von Carter. I was just Avery. A girl wondering why the person she should not care about was the one her heart refused to let go of.

The storm whispered doubts. She does not care, Avery. She is your professor, not your friend. You are replaceable. Forgettable. She locked the door because she does not want you near. I shook my head, trying to silence the thoughts. They only grew louder.

Then, a softer voice rose inside. Quieter, but persistent. What if that is not true? What if she cares more than she admits? What if pushing you away is her way of protecting herself? The thought lodged deep in my chest. I remembered the flicker in her eyes. The hesitation in her tone. The way she seemed shaken when I asked why she cared.

It was not nothing. I refused to believe it was just professional courtesy. The wind picked up, a cold shock against my damp cheeks. Only then did I realize I had been crying. I wiped the tears away, angry at myself, angry at her, angry at everything.

I wanted to march to her house and demand answers. I wanted to force her to admit the feelings she was hiding. I wanted to tear down her walls. But I was terrified of what I might hear. What if I meant nothing? What if I was a nuisance? What if everything I felt was a figment of my imagination? The thought broke me. I stayed on the roof, trapped between the urge to run to her and the desire to run away.

Hours dragged on. Midnight crept closer, and I could not sleep. Every flicker of memory replayed like a movie. Somewhere in the churning emotions, a truth dawned. I was falling. I was falling for Ms. Rose. It terrified me. It was professionally impossible and personally dangerous. She held all the power. She had every reason to shut me out. Yet my heart did not care about reasons.

The storm ebbed into exhaustion. My eyes grew heavy. Before I drifted into sleep, I whispered to the night, “Please… don’t close the door on me forever, Professor.” The stars said nothing. The night held me in silence.

The corridor was buzzing with students. For me, the world was muted, as if I was trapped in a glass cage. Four days. Four days since she shut me out. No TA duties, no office, no witty banter. Absolutely nothing. She had closed the door to the thread pulling me to her.

On the fifth day, there she was. Walking briskly, her heels clicking against the floor. She passed me. My throat clenched shut. My chest felt too tight. My hands trembled, but I did not care who saw.

“Ms. Rose!” I called out, my voice cracking, fuelled by desperation. “Stop doing this to me right now!” My heart hammered, but I did not care about the scene. “You know it hurts me…” My voice broke, and I hated how vulnerable it sounded.

She stopped. She stood rigid, her back to me. My eyes stung, and tears welled. My pride screamed not to show them, but this was not the invincible Avery Von Carter speaking. This was me.

Agonizingly slowly, she turned. Her eyes found mine, and for the first time in four days, she truly looked at me. Something flickered in her gaze—something she tried to bury, but I saw it. A silence stretched out, taut between us.

In a voice low and controlled, she spoke: “Meet me in my office, Carter. Now.” She did not wait for a response. She walked toward her office with an unshaken pace. I followed, like a magnet to its core.

The door clicked shut, sealing us inside. She did not look at me immediately. She went behind her desk, placed her books down with calmness, and raised her eyes. I had so much to say, but the words were tangled. My chest rose and fell, and I felt the wet streaks of tears on my cheeks.

Ms. Rose folded her arms. Her voice was composed, but there was a dangerous edge. “Do you have any idea what you just did? You caused a public scene. What if someone important heard you?”

I clenched my fists. “I don’t care about out there, Professor. I only care about here—about this.” Her brows drew together. “You are out of line, Avery.”

“Then tell me honestly why you’re doing this!” I snapped. “Why are you shutting me out? Why a week without TA duties? Why won’t you even look at me?”

Her jaw tightened. She leaned forward, voice low. “Because you crossed an unacceptable line. You shouted at me in my office, and you think there are no consequences for that disrespect?”

My throat went dry, but the words came. “I shouted because I did not understand why you cared so much! And you wouldn’t answer honestly!” The air crackled with unsaid truth. She stared, her eyes like flames burning through my defenses.

“No one,” she said, “raises their voice at me. Not students. Not colleagues. Not even the powerful Von Carters. You think your name gives you a free pass?”

“I don’t care about the name!” My voice cracked. “I’m not just a Von Carter here, Professor. I’m—” I stopped. My chest heaved. Her gaze sharpened, waiting. How could I say the truth? How could I say every heartbeat had started meaning more to me than possible?

I whispered, “I’m not just anyone to you. Am I, Professor?” The silence was suffocating. Her lips parted, as if to say something immense, but she stopped herself. She looked away, struggling for control.

Her tone colder, she said, “You are strictly my student, Avery. My teaching assistant. Nothing more than a professional relationship.” The words sliced through me. I swallowed, fighting the sting. “If that is true, then why does this hurt? Why did I cry?”

She flinched. Barely a movement. But I saw it. I stepped closer to her desk, voice trembling. “You haven’t truthfully answered me. Why do you care about my health? Why did you personally check on me? Why shut me out if I am just a replaceable TA? Why does it feel like you’re protecting yourself… from me?”

Her breath caught. For the first time, her mask slipped. I saw the raw conflict, the restraint, the storm she was burying beneath professionalism. Her eyes locked onto mine, and in that moment, it was not professor and student. It was two people standing on the edge of something dangerous and fragile that could change everything.

I waited, my being a silent plea. Instead of answering, she exhaled and whispered, “You should go now, Carter.”

The words broke me. “I didn’t mean to shout,” I said, voice trembling. “I was confused, emotionally overwhelmed—I still am. But please, Ms. Rose, don’t shut me out. Don’t—”

“Enough, Avery.” The sharpness in her tone cut me off. She turned away, her back a wall. Her hands gripped the table until her knuckles turned white.

I opened my mouth, but she lifted a hand, not looking at me. “Leave my office, Avery. Now.”

The dismissal landed like a physical blow. My chest ached as I turned, walking toward the door. My hand trembled on the knob, and I bit my lip to stop the sob rising from my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand answers. I wanted to stay.

But I left. As the door shut behind me, I realized she was not just closing her office door. She was closing the door to the thread that connected us. The realization was killing me.

❖

Morning light did nothing to ease the storm in my chest. Sleep was a stranger; every hour I replayed the confrontation in her office, every word spoken and every silence.

The memory gnawed at me—the way she said, “You’re my student. My TA. Nothing more.” The way she turned her back. The defeated way I walked out.

No matter how I commanded myself to let it go, my heart rebelled. It screamed that this was not over. I could not give up now.

When morning came, I did not wait for an excuse. I did not wait for office hours or a knock. Pride and my name crumbled under the weight of what I needed. Her.

Her office was quiet when I slipped inside. Blinds filtered sunlight into golden stripes across the bookshelves. I stood in the middle of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Minutes stretched until I heard it—the click of heels approaching from the corridor. The door opened.

She stepped inside, flipping through lecture notes. Her eyes lifted and froze on my figure.

“Avery?” Her tone was not sharp, but the shock in her voice made me swallow. I did not give myself a second to hesitate. I did not allow pride to interfere.

I did the most reckless thing I had ever done. I dropped to my knees on the floor.

Her eyes widened, horrified. The papers nearly slipped from her grip. “Avery—what the hell are you doing—”

I pressed my palms together, head bowing, but my gaze locked onto hers. My voice trembled, raw with pain. “I am so sorry, Ms. Rose… for shouting at you that day in your office.”

She blinked, stunned into silence. Her lips parted, but I continued, words rushing out, broken. “You don’t have to talk to me again if you don’t want to. You don’t have to assign me any more TA work. Hell, you don’t even have to look at me again.”

My voice cracked. “If it comes to that, I’ll leave this university if that’s what it takes for you not to see my face again. But—”

My throat closed. My chest ached. “But please… forgive me, Professor. Forgive me before I die fighting this storm inside me.”

The silence after my confession was suffocating. My heart pounded so loud it drowned out the room. Her shoulders stiffened, her jaw clenched, her eyes glossed over.

Her voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare talk such utter bullshit, Avery!”

I flinched at the sharpness. My head shot up, and I saw her stride toward me, fury radiating off her.

“Don’t you dare, Avery,” she repeated, her tone trembling with emotion. “You do not get to say terrifying things like that to me.”

Her hands gripped my arms, pulling me up with strength. My knees gave in, but she held me steady, forcing me to stand.

“Avery…” Her voice wavered, raw with vulnerability. In her eyes, I saw the battle raging. Not indifference or coldness. But restraint fighting against something infinitely deeper.

I froze. Her expression twisted, as if she fought not to break down.

She pulled me into her arms. The embrace knocked the breath out of me. My head pressed against her shoulder, and I was too stunned to move. The warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume, and the way her hand trembled against my back shattered me into pieces.

Her voice, muffled against my hair, broke through. “I forgive you, darling. I do.”

Darling. The word struck my core, melting the ice that had frozen solid for days. My throat tightened, and my arms rose, wrapping around her waist. Her hand shifted, cupping the back of my head with gentleness I never knew she possessed.

As my heart threatened to explode, she pulled back, holding me at arm’s length. Her eyes softened, though hot tears threatened to spill. She leaned forward and pressed the lightest kiss against my forehead.

A feather touch. It was not supposed to mean anything, yet it meant everything.

I did not think. The storm took over. I leaned in. Closer. My lips hovered near hers, my heartbeat a wild drumbeat. The world disappeared.

Her fingers pressed against my lips, stopping me cold.

“What the hell am I doing…” I whispered, horror flashing across my face. My chest heaved, panic seizing my lungs. “I—I didn’t mean to—God—”

“Avery.” Her voice was steady, but her grip on my arms was firm. She tilted my face up, making me look into her eyes. They burned with something fierce, protective, and unspoken. “It’s fine, Avery. I forgive you.”

I froze. My lips parted, but no words came out.

She repeated it, softer, with a trace of affection and secret relief. “Avery, look at me… It’s fine. I forgive you.”

The words sank into my soul, calming the chaos enough for me to breathe. My mind would not stop racing. Fine. Did she mean it? Did she forgive me because she wanted to, or because she felt obligated? Did that hug and kiss mean what I thought, or was it pity?

Her thumb brushed my cheek, as if she were caught in something immense she could not control. In that moment, I knew one thing with certainty. This was not the end of the storm. This was the beginning of a storm neither of us could run from.

I pulled back, my breath uneven, searching her eyes for a clue. She straightened her posture, trying to mask the slip, but the cracks in her armor were visible. Her chest rose and fell, a sign of her struggle. Her hands, steady on my arms, trembled.

“Professor…” My voice was a trembling whisper. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you fighting this?”

Her jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with restraint. “Because I have to, Avery. I have a responsibility.”

“No.” I shook my head, my throat aching. “You don’t have to do this. You choose to fight this.”

Something flashed in her eyes, dangerously close to breaking free. She took a step back, shaking her head. “This is an immutable line, Avery. A line we cannot cross, ever.”

“But we already did, Professor,” I said, my voice trembling with certainty. “Didn’t we cross it just now?”

Her silence said more than her words ever could. I wanted to reach for her again. I wanted to say the raw things I had buried. But I took a step back, allowing her to breathe, allowing her to rebuild her walls.

The storm had not ended. But for the first time, I was not drowning alone. I had seen the truth in her eyes, in her hug, in that kiss. No matter how much she tried to bury it, it was there. Between us. Unspoken. Dangerous. Real.