My Boyfriend Cheated With His Student, I Left

Marcus's sixth patent had just gone through, and he said he was going to give me the grand proposal, the one that would close out four years of dating.

The campus quad was covered in candles and roses. Marcus stood in the middle of it holding a bouquet, his eyes shining.

Those flowers were meant for me. Claire thought the proposal was for her, and she threw herself into his arms before he could open his mouth.

I stood in the crowd and watched him hand my flowers to her.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers were shaking as I typed.

"Clear this up. Now."

Thirty minutes later, he replied. "Claire is young. She got carried away. If I make a public statement, people will tear her apart. Don't read too much into it."

I stared at the screen and gripped the phone so hard the case bent.

Nice work, Claire.

Claire was Marcus's PhD student.

An orphan who had grown up in foster care.

Marcus pitied her, and that pity had always tilted into something closer to favoritism.

A message popped up in the department group chat. Someone had shared a post from the campus social platform.

hashtags: [Dr. Marcus Hale and grad student Claire, relationship confirmed], [Breaking down every soft moment we missed]

The post had a photo of Claire teary-eyed, Marcus down on one knee, and an older shot of the two of them walking through campus together. The comments were unhinged.

"She looks shocked. She had no idea Professor Hale was going to be this brave, going against everything to claim her. I'm sobbing."

"I cannot believe my ship sailed. It's fate, I swear."

"The straight-laced professor and the brilliant student. They're perfect together."

Claire had liked that last one.

I looked at the comments. I looked at the like. My chest got tighter.

Claire could like a comment. Marcus couldn't post a denial.

There was no logic to it. He just didn't want to.

Again.

I thought about all the other times.

The first time he took Claire to an amusement park behind my back, I tried to break up with him. He cried. He apologized. He said he just felt sorry for her, that he knew it was wrong, that he was begging me not to leave.

I told myself maybe he really was just soft-hearted, and that didn't mean he didn't love me.

I forgave him.

The second time was when students caught him and Claire in matching hoodies and posted about it. I tried to break up with him again. He told me Claire had saved up her café tips for months, that it was the first gift she had ever given anyone, and he couldn't bring himself to refuse her. He swore there wouldn't be a next time.

I told myself I was being petty. It was just a sweatshirt.

I forgave him again.

On my birthday, which also happened to be our four-year anniversary, he brought Claire along. He was polite with me, and distant. Every other sentence was Dr. Sinclair this, Dr. Sinclair that. With Claire, he was soft.

I sat there trying to remember when he had stopped calling me Evelyn. At the beginning it had been Evelyn. Then Ev. Then somewhere along the way it had become Dr. Sinclair.

Claire said something to him. He turned his head to listen, and he smiled.

It was the same smile he had had the first year he knew me.

I had lost count of how many times I had tried to break up with him.

He just said he hadn't thought it through, that he would make it up to me, that he loved me. Claire had never been to a restaurant this nice, and he had wanted her to see something different. As her advisor, he had to look out for her.

I told myself one more chance.

I asked him over and over to keep distance.

He told me over and over that Claire had no family, and since he was her advisor he was basically her guardian.

Every time I let it go, he took more.

I opened our chat again. My thumb hovered over the words "Let's break up."

Ten minutes passed. The screen went dark. No new message from him.

I slid the silver band off my finger and hit send.

He replied almost instantly. "Stop. We'll talk when you get home."

Then another message: "I baked you those strawberry cookies you like. Come home. Love you."

I locked the screen, tuned out the gossip around me, and started walking toward faculty housing.

I saw them outside the building.

"Aw, you actually made my favorite cookies?" Claire was holding the box I had bought.

They were standing close. His hand was at her waist. He could have leaned down and kissed her without moving his feet.

She said something, and he laughed. It was soft.

When he first came to the university, he had no money. His apartment was a long way from the lab. Whenever I worked late, he waited. When my data wouldn't make sense, he would sit with me until dawn going through the raw records. Once I was sick and couldn't keep anything down, and he drove forty minutes off-campus to bring me soup. He told me it was on the way. It was raining. His jacket was soaked through.

Back then, Marcus actually loved me.

I should mention that I had been hired at this university two years before he was. I already had a reputation.

When we got together, Marcus asked me to keep us private. He said he didn't want people saying his career was built on Evelyn Sinclair's name. He wanted to prove himself first, and then go public.

He had proved himself. And the woman beside him wasn't me.

He had aimed too low for himself.

I let out a laugh and threw the ring on the ground. It made a small bright sound against the concrete.

Both of them turned.

Marcus's face dropped. "Evelyn, what are you doing here? It's not what it looks like."

He moved to hug me. I stepped back.

"Dr. Sinclair, are you okay?" Claire said, eyes wide.

I looked at her. "Drop the act. Last time, you stood outside my office watching us. Was that not enough for you?"

I stepped closer and glanced back at Marcus. "What was it then? You watched us and turned red. Now you finally got the hug. Is it everything you imagined?"