Chapter 3

For the rest of that night and most of the next morning, I barely slept.

Messages from my anonymous boyfriend kept appearing.

Still working on your thesis?

Why did you suddenly stop answering me?

Baby, you’re being so cold today.

Did I do something wrong? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.

Don’t go silent on me. I’m actually getting nervous.

I stared at the screen for a long time before replying.

Are you hiding something from me?

He answered instantly.

No.

I’ve always been honest with you.

Did someone say something?

Honest.

A man who called me baby on NearU late at night, then used that soft voice to call another woman love in his office, thought he was being honest.

Still, I could not ask him directly.

If I was wrong, I would become the unhinged graduate student who mistook her adviser for her anonymous boyfriend and accused him of cheating.

A few minutes later, he sent several photos.

I’m meeting someone important tomorrow. Help me choose one?

They were tie bars and cuff links this time, shot close enough to hide the room. I stared at the photos and suddenly had an idea.

A pen could be coincidence.

So I chose the most recognizable tie bar: dark gray metal with a thin silver line along the edge, subtle up close but hard to miss once noticed.

This one. Not flashy, but memorable.

His reply came quickly.

Then I’ll wear it tomorrow.

The next morning, I brought the revised proposal to Dr. Ford’s office.

He was standing by the bookshelf, flipping through a file. Over his gray shirt, he wore a dark blazer, and at his collar sat the exact tie bar I had chosen the night before.

My last excuse died there.

“Professor, I revised the proposal.”

Dr. Ford took it and skimmed the first pages. “Professor Reed will join the joint-project discussion this afternoon. Review your methods section again, especially sample selection and variable control. Don’t get caught off guard.”

“Of course.”

I forced myself to nod, but my eyes went back to the tie bar.

Dr. Ford noticed.

“Is there something else?”

I tried to sound casual. “That tie bar is unusual. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear it before.”

He glanced down.

“I took it out yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Of course.

Apparently, when he said he would wear it tomorrow, he meant he would wear it to see another woman.

I carried the proposal back to the lab feeling hollow. My coffee had gone cold, my laptop was still open to the methods section, but all I could hear was Dr. Ford’s voice from the night before.

Love.

Near noon, heels sounded in the hallway.

I looked up.

A woman walked in from the elevator, wearing a cream coat with her hair loosely pinned back. She was beautiful in a polished, untouchable way, and she opened Dr. Ford’s office door without knocking.

Her laugh reached the hallway a moment later.

“Ethan, I thought you’d be too busy to remember I was coming today.”

Dr. Ford’s voice lowered.

“I wouldn’t forget.”

“You look unusually formal,” she said. “That tie bar is handsome.”

My fingers tightened around my pen.

“I’m glad you like it,” Dr. Ford said.

Her voice turned teasing. “You don’t need to be nervous about the foundation dinner. My parents may fund half your department, but they already like you.”

“That is exactly why I’m nervous,” he said after a pause. “I don’t want them thinking you chose the wrong man.”

That was when my last bit of hope broke cleanly.

He had asked me to choose the tie bar not for a project meeting, not for an academic discussion, but to impress another woman and the family funding his department.

So what was I?

The anonymous girl who kept him company at night, praised him, flirted with him, and helped him dress for someone else?

I returned to my desk and opened NearU.

He had sent more messages.

Baby, are you busy today?

I wore the one you chose.

Your taste really is perfect.

My stomach turned.

A few seconds later, I typed:

You disgust me.

We’re done.

Then I blocked him before he could reply.

The motion was clean, almost surgical.

Only after the screen went dark did I realize my hands were shaking.