Chapter 3

It was eight in the morning. By the time I got up, Kevin had already left for the university.

On the table was breakfast, which he rarely ever made, along with a note. "I had someone clean up the living room. Stop acting like a child. Once you've had enough sleep, get up and eat breakfast."

Kevin had beautiful handwriting, elegant and refined, just like the man himself.

I looked at the note as I swallowed spoonfuls of oatmeal, and the hole in my heart seemed to fill up bit by bit.

But only seemed to.

A notification chimed. Monica had posted on social media.

The oatmeal and omelet on my table? She had the same thing, and an even bigger portion at that.

Her caption read: [I'm so lucky! I finally have a dream professor who eats breakfast with his students!]

The matching yellow and blue bowls in the photo were painfully familiar.

Last year, when Kevin took me to the pottery town of Millbrook, he'd picked them out for me himself. He said their bright, cheerful colors were just like me.

I'd complained out loud, but on the inside, I was over the moon.

I couldn't bear to use them. I treated them like treasures and set them on the display shelf, and I even put a photo of the two of us next to them.

Later, the photo went missing for no apparent reason. Only the bowls were left.

And now he was using them to serve Monica's breakfast.

Just like countless times before, he'd call to hurry me along before I'd even gotten off work. "Monica's stomach is acting up again. She says your soup is the best, and she specifically asked for some of yours."

That had been the second day of my fever, with my temperature at 40 degrees Celsius.

When I got up that morning, I asked him if he could take me to the hospital.

He was adjusting his tie in the mirror. "I've got a meeting this morning. I'll take you once it's over."

I believed him. I sat at the office, counting every minute, every second.

I kept pulling my phone out of my pocket and putting it back again.

A coworker teased, "Missing your boyfriend?"

I pressed my lips together bitterly. My head was throbbing.

By the time his call finally came, I had my bag in hand and was nearly out the door.

But he seemed to have forgotten I had a fever. Seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to take me to the hospital.

All he remembered was to tell me to make soup for his student.

He never knew that a pot of short rib and root vegetable soup took two full hours, from soaking the short ribs to simmering the root vegetables until tender.

By the time I finished the soup, my appointment slot was long gone.

He had a delicate stomach that couldn't handle anything cold. I'd ruined dozens of pots of soup before I discovered that ginger paired with carrots warmed and nourished him.

And yet, he'd so casually used my devotion as a gift to show he cared about his student.

The buzz of my phone snapped me out of it.

"Is this Laurel Ferris? You passed the written exam. The university would like you to come in for an interview this afternoon."

"Okay. I'll be there on time."

When I arrived, there were other applicants in the hallway. Monica was one of them.

She sidled up with a smile and lowered her voice. "Mrs. Russell, you really shouldn't have come. It's a waste of your time. This position was promised to someone ahead of time."

"What do you mean?"

She looked me up and down, not bothering to hide the contempt in her eyes.

"No wonder Professor Russell always says you're slow. I've spelled it out this plainly, and you still don't get it? He gave this position to me."

I was about to fire back when someone called me from the office.

I went in and sat down. The interviewer handed me a letter of apology, sounding regretful.

"Ms. Ferris, your resume was a great fit for the operations position, but an internal candidate was chosen at the last minute. All we can do is apologize."

The next second, Monica sent me her job recommendation letter. In the last field, the person who recommended her was none other than Kevin.

It felt like someone had grabbed me by the throat. I couldn't squeeze out a single word.

My phone kept ringing. It was Kevin, with an explanation that couldn't even fool himself.

"Laurie, could you let Monica have this opportunity? She has no parents, and she can barely get by. If she gets this position, her tuition and living expenses will be covered from now on. She won't have to work odd jobs and put up with people's attitudes anymore.

"You've been through all that too. You wouldn't mind, would you?

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you there?"

After that, nothing. No calls, no texts.

His patience for me lasted all of two seconds.

I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, I called a professor I hadn't spoken to in a long time. Then I booked a plane ticket that was several years overdue.

When I got home, Monica was sitting on the couch, nibbling on fruit.