THE EMPTY SEAT

Isabella Hayes had never wanted to disappear more than she did at that moment.

She sat inside the women’s bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red, her cheeks were flushed, and the word Harry had called her kept repeating in her head.

Piggy.

It wasn’t the first time someone had insulted her weight.

But somehow, hearing it from Harry Lockwood, in front of so many people, had made her feel smaller than ever.

Emily stood beside her, looking furious.

Emily: “I swear to God, Bella, that guy needs someone to knock some sense into him.”

Isabella shook her head.

Isabella: “Please don’t do anything, Em.”

Emily: “He humiliated you in front of everyone!”

Isabella: “I know.”

Emily: “And you didn’t even do anything wrong!”

Isabella wiped her cheeks with a tissue.

Isabella: “Can we just forget about it? Please?”

Emily’s expression softened. She knew Isabella hated confrontation, especially when it involved people who frightened her.

Emily: “Fine. But if he bothers you again, I’m not keeping quiet.”

Isabella managed a small smile.

Isabella: “Thank you.”

Emily checked the time.

Emily: “Shit. We’ve got fifteen minutes before your business management lecture.”

Isabella took a deep breath.

Isabella: “Okay. Let’s go.”

⸻

BUSINESS FACULTY — 1:15 PM

The lecture hall was enormous, with several rows of seats arranged in a semicircle around a large presentation screen.

Isabella followed Emily inside, holding her notebook against her chest.

Emily: “Let’s sit near the back.”

Isabella: “Why?”

Emily: “Because I refuse to sit directly in front of a professor for two hours.”

Isabella laughed softly.

They found two empty seats near the middle of the room. Emily immediately took out her phone while Isabella arranged her notebook and pens neatly on the desk.

For the first time since arriving at university, Isabella began to relax.

This was something she understood.

Studying.

Taking notes.

Listening to lectures.

She had always been an excellent student, and business management was something she genuinely loved. One day, she wanted to open her own luxury hotel, just like her father had done.

A middle-aged professor entered the room.

Professor Miller: “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to Introduction to Business Management.”

The students gradually settled down.

Professor Miller: “I’m Professor Miller, and I’ll be teaching this course throughout the semester.”

Isabella opened her notebook.

For the next twenty minutes, she listened carefully, writing down everything she considered important.

Emily leaned closer.

Emily: “You’re seriously taking notes already?”

Isabella: “Yes.”

Emily: “Bella, he’s literally introducing himself.”

Isabella smiled.

Isabella: “Shh.”

Emily rolled her eyes affectionately.

Then the lecture hall doors opened.

The sound wasn’t particularly loud, but something strange happened.

Several students immediately turned around.

A girl sitting near the aisle straightened in her seat.

Someone whispered a name.

Student: “Harry.”

Isabella’s pen stopped moving.

No.

Surely not.

She slowly turned toward the entrance.

Harry Lockwood stood in the doorway.

Black trousers. Black shirt. Expensive watch.

The same cold expression.

James Bennett and Jack stood behind him, talking quietly.

Professor Miller stopped speaking.

For a moment, the entire lecture hall fell silent.

Professor Miller: “Mr. Lockwood. How nice of you to join us.”

Harry didn’t apologize.

He didn’t even acknowledge the sarcasm.

Harry: “Continue.”

Professor Miller’s jaw tightened slightly, but he turned back toward the presentation screen.

Emily leaned toward Isabella.

Emily: “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Isabella’s stomach dropped.

Isabella: “Why is he here?”

Emily: “Apparently, the devil decided to attend class.”

Harry walked down the aisle with James and Jack following him.

Students moved their bags from empty seats as he passed, hoping he would choose somewhere else.

He ignored them.

James spotted a row near the back.

James: “Let’s sit there.”

Harry glanced around the room.

His eyes passed over Isabella without recognition.

Then he continued walking.

Isabella lowered her head, silently praying he wouldn’t come closer.

Unfortunately, James stopped directly beside their row.

James: “Well, well. Look who it is.”

Emily closed her eyes.

Emily: “For fuck’s sake.”

Isabella stared at her notebook.

Harry stopped walking.

Harry: “What?”

James nodded toward Isabella.

James: “Your little coffee girl.”

Harry finally looked at her.

Recognition flickered across his face.

Not surprise.

Not interest.

Just irritation.

Harry: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Isabella wished she could disappear beneath the desk.

James grinned.

James: “Small world, isn’t it?”

Harry looked at the empty seat beside Isabella.

Emily had placed her handbag there while searching through her own bag.

Harry: “Move the bag.”

Emily looked up.

Emily: “Excuse me?”

Harry’s expression didn’t change.

Harry: “I said move the fucking bag.”

Emily stared at him for a moment before reluctantly picking it up.

Isabella’s heart hammered against her ribs.

Harry sat beside her.

James and Jack took the seats behind them.

There were dozens of empty chairs in the lecture hall, yet Harry had chosen the one directly next to her.

Isabella pressed herself closer to Emily, keeping her eyes fixed on her notebook.

Harry leaned back, stretching his long legs beneath the desk.

His expensive cologne filled the small space between them.

For several minutes, he said nothing.

Isabella tried to concentrate on Professor Miller’s lecture, but her fingers trembled whenever she turned a page.

Then Harry’s phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen and answered without lowering his voice.

Harry: “What?”

Several students turned around.

Harry: “I told you to handle it.”

A pause.

His jaw tightened.

Harry: “Then fire the fucking idiot.”

Professor Miller stopped speaking.

Professor Miller: “Mr. Lockwood, would you mind taking your call outside?”

Harry slowly lifted his eyes.

The room became painfully quiet.

Harry: “I’m busy.”

Professor Miller hesitated.

Professor Miller: “This is a lecture.”

Harry stared at him.

Harry: “Then lecture.”

Nobody moved.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Professor Miller returned to the presentation.

Isabella couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed.

Harry ended the call and tossed his phone onto the desk.

His gaze shifted toward her notebook.

Harry: “What the fuck are you writing?”

Isabella froze.

Isabella: “N-notes.”

Harry looked at the neatly written pages.

Harry: “No shit.”

She lowered her eyes.

Isabella: “Sorry.”

Harry exhaled sharply.

Harry: “Do you ever stop fucking apologizing?”

Isabella said nothing.

For a moment, he watched her trembling fingers.

Then he leaned closer.

Harry: “Relax, Piggy. I’m not going to fucking eat you.”

Her face burned.

Behind them, James let out a quiet laugh.

Isabella gripped her pen tighter, desperately trying not to cry.

Harry leaned back again, already bored with the conversation.

To him, she was nothing more than an easy target.

But Isabella knew one thing.

If Harry Lockwood was going to be in her class for the entire semester, surviving university would be far more difficult than she had imagined.

And when Professor Miller announced that their first major assignment would require students to work in pairs, Isabella felt an entirely new kind of dread.

Professor Miller: “I’ll be assigning your partners myself.”

Harry didn’t even look up from his phone.

Isabella silently prayed.

Anyone.

Please, anyone but him.