All Chapters of A Yearning Beyond Years: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Stacey’s POV:It had been a long day.The kind of day that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a weighted blanket. Endless emails, back-to-back lectures, and the constant juggling of motherhood and secrecy. By the time I stepped into the house, the smell of lavender bath soap lingered in the hallway; Chloe must've bathed Tessa already.“Hey,” she called from the kitchen. “She’s busy in her room with coloring books.”I dropped my bag with a sigh and kicked off my shoes. My feet throbbed.“You’re a miracle,” I murmured.She grinned. “You say that every Thursday and Friday and every time.”“Because it’s true.”I went to see Tessa. She sat on the rug with all the seriousness she could muster while coloring what seems to be an animal of some sort.“Mommy!" She shrieked when she saw me at the doorway. She ran to me with one big smile, and I scooped her into a big hug, inhaling the soft smell of her soap.“How's my baby?" I asked as we moved into her room. The butterfly stickers on the

Stacey’s POV:The week leading up to the interstate game moved in a blur of adrenaline and whispered prayers.Noah's injury had finally healed completely. The limp that once accompanied every step was gone, replaced by a fierce determination that shimmered in his eyes every time he walked into practice.That Monday, he sent me a video of himself sprinting full-court, finishing with a perfect layup. My heart soared watching it. He looked strong again. Free. Hungry.We'd built this secret world together, one made of quiet evenings, stolen kisses, and hidden smiles, but this? This was his world. The court. The noise. The roar of the crowd. And now, he was ready to reclaim it.Every evening that week, he'd train till sweat soaked through his shirt. He'd call me after, sometimes too tired to say much beyond, "I'm coming back. I can feel it."I believed him.How could I not?Even when he was broken, he was extraordinary. But now? Now he was unstoppable.He didn’t just train with his body. H

Stacey’s POV:The roar of the stadium was thunderous, echoing off the high ceilings and pulsing through the bleachers like a living heartbeat. Even from the upper tier, I could feel it vibrating in my chest, the electric buzz of adrenaline, tension, and pride.But I wasn’t listening to the noise.I was watching him.Noah Blake.Number 7.Tall. Focused. Commanding.He stood at the edge of the court, bouncing the ball once, twice, then handing it off to the ref. His face was all sharp lines and steel. No trace of the boy who kissed me with trembling fingers that night in the hospital hallway. No hint of the softness he showed when he whispered he wanted me by his side for this very moment.He was all athlete now. All fire and hunger.And he was magnificent.Around me, the whispers still lingered.“That’s her, yeah, the teacher.”“Ugh, I can’t believe she showed up.”“Shameless.”“She’s literally cheering for him? Like, get a grip.”I blocked them out.Let them talk.Let them gossip and

Stacey’s POV:They called me “slut professor.”At first, I thought it was just one cruel comment. A one-off. Someone trying to get a cheap laugh in a thread already bloated with judgment and jealousy.But then it stuck.Like gum on the bottom of a shoe.Like mold in the corners of a perfect home.And then it spread.I woke up the next morning to my phone buzzing like a trapped bee, hundreds of notifications, each more venomous than the last. Hashtags trended:#SlutProfessor#PredatorInHeels#JusticeForNoahThe video had gone beyond the school now.It was on gossip blogs and on forums. On Twitter, TikTok, and YouTube. People who didn’t even know me had formed entire opinions, stitching my character together from a thirty-second video and a few dramatic captions.There were reaction videos. Commentaries. Think pieces.People debated whether I was a monster or just another pathetic woman “using her position for access to young flesh.” Some were worse. Graphic. Violent.They dissected my

Stacey’s POV:The days had begun to blur into each other like watercolors bleeding on soaked paper. I no longer knew which day it was. It didn’t matter. Every day felt the same: quiet, grey, and heavy. I barely left my room, let alone the apartment.Chloe had tried everything to keep me tethered: chats, movies, food delivery, and scented candles. But the silence had grown on me. It had become this strange comfort I could hide in.The internet had moved on, I think. The trolls quieted down a little. My inbox was still flooded with judgment, and my name still trended from time to time, but the storm had passed. At least online. The wreckage, however, was still right here inside me.I sat by the window that afternoon after Chloe had left to go to the park with Tessa, legs folded on the couch, clutching a cold mug of tea. The sunlight pooled across the wooden floor like a soft sigh. It was peaceful. Not happy, not whole, just...still.Then I heard the knock.At first, I didn’t move. Noah