Todos los capítulos de Our Little Secret: In Love With My Professor : Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

AlbertWhen I open my eyes again, the world isn’t spinning anymore.The pounding in my skull has dulled to a low, steady throb, like the echo of thunder after a storm. For a moment, I lie still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above me. The soft white light of the chandelier blurs into hazy halos until my vision steadies, and then I notice it, the faint hum of a heater somewhere, the sterile scent of medicine and lavender, the sound of my own breathing.I’m in a bed.A massive, king-sized bed dressed in ivory sheets that smell faintly of detergent and roses. The pillows are too soft, the mattress almost swallows me whole. My body sinks into it as if I’m being cradled by clouds. Across from the bed, a wide screen TV flickers silently, reflecting my disoriented face. The walls are painted cream, trimmed with gold, and thick drapes cover the windows, muting the sunlight into a warm amber glow.It looks expensive. Too expensive for someone like me.I push myself up slowly, but pain rush

AlbertI don’t know how long I’ve been lying here. All I know is that boredom will kill me soon.The clock on the wall keeps ticking, but I’ve lost track of time, whether it’s been hours or days. My body feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. The ache in my veins has dulled, but there’s still something heavy inside me, a fog that refuses to lift.Emon said that the antidote would help. He said it softly, almost lovingly, as if the sound of his voice alone could heal me. And at first, I believed him because the pounding in my head had eased, and the nausea subsided. I could move my arms without the world tilting. But now… now that the fog is thinning, I realize something else.I can’t feel my wolf.Not the usual quiet hum of presence at the back of my mind, not the soft pulse of shared awareness that always reminded me that I was never truly alone. It’s just… emptiness. Like a door I’ve knocked on all my life suddenly won’t open.I close my eyes and try again, the way I a

AlbertThe air in the room was thick, heavy, almost as if it had a pulse of its own. I sat up slowly, my head throbbing less than before, the world no longer spinning quite as viciously. The antidote was working, though faintly. My veins still felt sluggish, my limbs uncooperative, and my wolf… silent. That was the most terrifying part. I couldn’t feel Thalia. Not even a whisper.I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach, and relief loosened the tightness in my chest when I felt it still there, faint but steady warmth. The baby was fine. Somehow, through all of this, through whatever madness Emon had dragged me into, my child had survived. That was all that kept me from losing my mind.I was gathering what little strength I had when the door creaked open again. Emon stepped in with a bounce in his step, humming under his breath, a grin plastered across his face. There was something… off about it. Too wide. Too bright.He was carrying a small bowl of soup in one hand, a rolled-up scroll

EdwardThe forest was asleep when I rode in, but not peacefully. The air was thick, restless. It was like something ancient was watching from between the trees. The sun hung low, swollen and pale, spilling golden light across the mist. My wolf paced restlessly inside me, claws digging into my mind, urging me to move faster.Albert.I could still feel him, faintly, distantly, through the bond. But the pulse that once thrummed steady between us had thinned to a whisper. Pain had taken its place.He was hurting. And I was too late.The path to Old Inez’s hut wound through roots and moss, the ground soft from last night’s rain. No one ever came here unless they had to. I had been here once before when we came to inquire bout Albert's powers and earlier when I was younger, years ago, when my father died and I didn’t know what to do with the rage that filled me and the pack. Inez had been old even then, her eyes milk-white, her hair like unspun moonlight. Some said she spoke to spirits. Oth

(Pain forges power, and chains cannot hold what’s already been reborn.)AlbertI had learned the rhythm of the place.When Emon came. When the guards outside switched shifts. When the light spilling through the curtains turned orange and told me it was evening again.For four days, I played the part of the broken captive; too weak to stand, too dazed to think. Emon never doubted it. He came often, smiling that strange, soft smile that never quite reached his eyes. He would bring food, water, sometimes medicine, and always words, endless words about how close we were to freedom and how he would finally have me to himself.I nodded, murmured, “thank you,” and watched. Every visit, I watched him. Every time he spoke, I listened for the truth hidden under the madness. And every hour that passed, I healed.The silver shackle on my ankle no longer burned as fiercely. The bite of its poison had dulled into a steady throb, and with each breath, I pushed my wolf’s strength through the pain. S