Chapter 9

The walk back to campus felt like stepping out of a dream and into a cold, harsh reality. The morning sun was bright, students were laughing on their way to class, and everything was normal. But Leonard felt like an alien. He carried the secret of the past night inside him—the warmth of the guest bed, the smell of coffee in Paul’s kitchen, the profound peace of a dreamless sleep. It was a treasure he had to hide, and it made the ordinary world seem dull and fake.

He used his key card to enter the dorm, his heart thudding nervously. He hoped Emily had already left for her morning class.

No such luck. She was in the kitchenette, pouring cereal into a bowl. She looked up as he entered, and her expression immediately shifted from casual to concerned.

“Hey,” she said, her voice careful. “You weren’t here when I woke up. I checked your room.” Her gaze swept over him, taking in his slightly rumpled clothes from the day before. “Everything okay?”

Leonard’s mouth went dry. This was it. He had to lie. Directly to her face. “Yeah,” he said, forcing a casual tone. He walked to the sink and poured himself a glass of water, just to have something to do with his hands. “I couldn’t sleep. Went for a really long walk. Ended up at the 24-hour library to get some work done. Must have dozed off in a carrel for a bit.” The lie was elaborate, and it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Emily didn’t say anything for a moment. The silence stretched, heavy with her disbelief. He could feel her eyes on his back. He took a long drink of water, his throat tight.

“A walk,” she repeated, her tone flat. “At 2 AM. And then the library.” She put her cereal bowl down on the counter with a soft thud. “Leo, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he turned around. Her face was full of a worried frustration he hadn’t seen before.

“I’m not stupid,” she said, her voice low but intense. “You’ve been secretive for weeks. You’re either jumpy or spaced out. And now you’re disappearing all night? This isn’t just ‘stress.’” She took a step closer. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Are you… I don’t know, seeing someone you shouldn’t be?”

The question hit so close to the mark that Leonard flinched. Seeing someone you shouldn’t be. The accuracy was terrifying. He looked down at his feet, unable to meet her piercing gaze. The guilt was a physical weight on his chest, crushing the memory of the peace he’d felt just an hour ago.

“It’s not like that, Em,” he mumbled, hating himself. “I just… I’m dealing with some stuff. On my own. I need to handle it my way.” It was a half-truth, wrapped in a lie. He was dealing with stuff, but he wasn’t doing it alone. He was handing the reins over to Paul.

Emily’s shoulders slumped. The fight seemed to go out of her, replaced by a deep sadness. “Your way is pushing me away,” she said softly. “I’m your friend. I just want to help. But I can’t help if you shut me out.”

The words cut deep. She was right. He was shutting out his best friend, the one person who had always been there for him, for a relationship built on secrets and professional misconduct. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her everything, to beg for her forgiveness and her advice.

But then his phone buzzed in his pocket. A new email notification. The timing felt like fate.

He muttered, “I’m sorry, Em. I just… I need to go.” He couldn’t look at her anymore. He turned and practically fled to the sanctuary of his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, his heart racing.

He pulled out his phone with trembling fingers.

From: Paul Weston

Subject: Increased Session Frequency

Leonard,

After our discussion last night, it’s clear your symptoms require more consistent support. To make meaningful progress, I believe we should increase our sessions to three times per week—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 4 PM. My office, as usual. Let me know if this works for your schedule.

Best,

Paul

The guilt and shame from the confrontation with Emily evaporated, replaced by a surge of pure, dizzying excitement. Three times a week. It was more than he’d dared to hope for. Paul wasn’t pushing him away after the awkwardness of the night; he was pulling him closer. He was making Leonard a priority. The email was professional, but Leonard read the subtext: I want to see more of you. You need me, and I am here.

He typed a reply, his fingers flying across the screen.

Yes, that works perfectly. Thank you, Paul. See you Monday.

He hit send and sank onto his bed, the phone clutched to his chest. He could still hear Emily moving around in the other room, probably cleaning up her uneaten breakfast. A pang of guilt shot through him, but it was quickly smothered by the thrilling anticipation of seeing Paul again in just a few days. The secret relationship was escalating, becoming a central, consuming part of his life. He was lying to his friend, crossing every ethical boundary, but in that moment, all he could feel was the intoxicating certainty that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.