CHAPTER EIGHT: BOUNDARIES

Dominic

By eight o’clock, his coffee had gone cold.

Again.

Dominic barely noticed.

Stacks of assignments covered his desk, separated into neat piles according to tutorial groups. The morning sun spilled through the office windows, catching the edge of polished wood and turning the untouched mug beside his elbow into liquid gold.

He reached for the next paper.

The handwriting stopped him before the name did.

Small.

Quick.

Sharp slants to the right.

Margins filled with neat annotations.

His fingers stilled.

He didn’t need to read the cover page.

He already knew whose paper it was.

A quiet irritation settled somewhere beneath his ribs.

Annoying.

He turned it over anyway.

Alora Vale.

He exhaled slowly.

Without reading another line, he placed it beneath the rest of the pile and picked up someone else’s assignment instead.

Mitchell.

Average.

Predictable.

He read two paragraphs.

None of it registered.

His eyes drifted back to the previous paper.

Again.

His jaw tightened.

Ridiculous.

He had graded hundreds of assignments over the years.

He had never recognized a student by their handwriting.

He picked hers up again before catching himself.

No.

Enough.

He set it aside deliberately.

This was becoming a habit.

And habits became problems.

⸻

He leaned back in his chair.

Practical solutions.

That was all this required.

Nothing emotional.

Nothing complicated.

Simply…

boundaries.

No more attaching extra journal articles to her assignments.

No more keeping her after meetings because she had “one more question.”

No more asking whether she’d eaten.

Or slept.

Or whether the bruise she’d been hiding beneath her sleeve had healed.

None of that concerned him.

She was a student.

He was her professor.

End of discussion.

His attention belonged to every student equally.

Not one.

Especially not one.

Dominic nodded once to himself.

Problem solved.

He reached for the next assignment.

⸻

Ten minutes later—

He frowned.

Had she changed the way she numbered her headings?

He closed the folder harder than necessary.

⸻

Alora

“You’ve been smiling at your phone for three minutes.”

“I have not.”

Cassie reached across the cafeteria table and stole one of my fries.

“You absolutely have.”

“I’m checking tomorrow’s timetable.”

“Mhm.”

“I am.”

Cassie chewed thoughtfully before narrowing her eyes.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I think Professor Reid has finally broken your brain.”

I nearly inhaled my drink.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve started voluntarily reading cardiology journals.”

“I’m a medical student.”

“You read one during lunch.”

“…That’s fair.”

She grinned triumphantly.

We gathered our bags as students began flooding toward Cardio 301.

Outside, autumn had finally started creeping across campus.

Leaves scattered along the walkways.

Cold wind curled between the old brick buildings.

Boston looked beautiful.

Unfortunately…

Cardiology started in four minutes.

⸻

The lecture hall buzzed with conversation.

Students compared notes.

Someone argued loudly about tomorrow’s quiz.

Daniel waved from two rows ahead.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

He slid a coffee across the desk toward me before I even sat down.

“No sugar.”

I blinked.

“You remembered.”

“You always complain when people sweeten it.”

“…Do I?”

“Frequently.”

Cassie looked between us.

Then smiled to herself.

Oh no.

⸻

The room quieted.

Professor Reid entered.

Dark charcoal suit.

Rolled sleeves.

Tablet tucked beneath one arm.

He didn’t acknowledge anyone immediately.

Just connected his laptop and opened the lecture slides.

Something felt…

off.

I couldn’t explain why.

Not yet.

“Good morning.”

His voice carried effortlessly across the room.

“Open your notes.”

No introduction.

No unnecessary conversation.

Just work.

Normal.

Perfectly normal.

So why did the room suddenly feel colder?

⸻

Halfway through the lecture, I finally understood.

He hadn’t looked at me.

Not once.

Usually—

whether he called on me or not—

I always felt it.

That strange awareness.

Today…

nothing.

“Mr. Patel.”

A student near the front straightened.

“Explain Starling’s law.”

Correct answer.

Dominic nodded.

“Miss Brooks.”

Another question.

Another student.

Another discussion.

My hand lifted automatically.

He looked across the room.

Straight past me.

“Mr. Chen.”

I slowly lowered my hand.

Maybe he hadn’t seen—

No.

He had.

I knew he had.

⸻

After class ended, students gathered their things.

I stayed seated.

“…Did you notice?” Cassie asked.

I looked up.

“Notice what?”

“He ignored you.”

“What?”

“He literally ignored you for an entire lecture.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I am absolutely not.”

I laughed.

Too quickly.

“He probably just wanted other people to participate.”

Cassie tilted her head.

“You don’t believe that.”

I zipped my bag.

“I do.”

She didn’t answer.

Which somehow made it worse.

⸻

“Hey.”

Daniel fell into step beside me as we left the building.

“You look annoyed.”

“I’m not.”

“You have your ‘I’m pretending I’m not annoyed’ face.”

“I have a face for that?”

“You do.”

I sighed.

“It’s nothing.”

He waited.

Didn’t push.

Just matched my pace.

Eventually he asked,

“Coffee?”

“I’ve already had one.”

“So?”

“…That’s actually a compelling argument.”

He smiled.

“I know.”

The conversation drifted naturally after that.

Exams.

Clinical rotations.

Cassie complaining about anatomy.

Easy.

Simple.

Comfortable.

For the first time all morning…

I stopped thinking about Professor Reid.

⸻

Dominic

The afternoon disappeared beneath meetings.

Faculty reviews.

Department budgets.

Resident evaluations.

Exactly the sort of work that prevented unnecessary distractions.

Which was precisely the point.

Someone knocked.

“Come in.”

Professor Harris stepped inside carrying a folder.

“Thought I’d return these.”

Dominic accepted the papers with a nod.

As Harris turned to leave, he paused.

“Oh.”

“I saw Vale crossing campus.”

Dominic looked up.

“Did you?”

“She seems to spend quite a bit of time with Daniel Kohn these days.”

Silence.

“…Good students, both of them.”

Harris smiled.

“They looked happy.”

The office door closed.

Dominic stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.

Annoying.

Why had he looked up so quickly?

He returned to the report in front of him.

Read the same sentence three times.

None of it stayed.

Finally, he stood and walked toward the window.

Students crossed the courtyard below in scattered groups.

Near the fountain—

There she was.

Alora.

Daniel walked beside her.

He was saying something.

She laughed.

A real laugh.

Head tilted back.

Shoulders relaxed.

It lasted only a few seconds.

Long enough for something unfamiliar to settle quietly in the room.

Dominic reached for the cord.

The blinds slid shut with a soft whisper.

Problem solved.

⸻

Later That Night

The air had turned colder by the time Daniel and I left the library.

“You know,” he said, adjusting the strap of his backpack, “I think we’ve officially studied enough to qualify as emotionally damaged.”

“I think medical school handled that before tonight.”

He laughed.

“I can’t argue with that.”

We walked in comfortable silence.

The kind that didn’t need filling.

Halfway to my dorm, Daniel stopped.

I turned.

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

For the first time since I’d met him…

he looked nervous.

“…Nothing.”

“Daniel.”

He laughed quietly.

Then looked at the ground.

“Would you maybe…”

He paused.

“…want to have dinner sometime?”

Silence.

“Just dinner,” he added quickly.

“If you want.”

I looked at him.

Then at the path ahead.

For reasons I couldn’t explain…

the answer didn’t come as easily as I expected.

and that scared me.