Lahat ng Kabanata ng Our Little Secret: In Love With My Professor : Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

AlThe room is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that has weight, that presses against the skin and sinks into the bones.Emon lies beside me, his chest bare, one hand resting limply on my stomach. We are tangled in the sheets, and his breath is slow, tentative. He’s waiting for me to move. Or maybe for something more than just my body.I shift slightly, and that’s all he needs. He leans in, lips brushing my neck. It’s soft and gentle just the way he’s always been. The kind of lover who touches with reverence. Who waits. Who worships. Who loves without asking for anything in return.But all I feel is… emptiness.I let him kiss me. Let his hands glide down my chest. Let him press against me and sigh into my mouth. And when he eases over me, looking down with eyes that once made my heart race, I force a smile.It doesn’t reach my eyes. I know that. I feel the falseness in it, the hollow curve of my lips. And what I hate even more is the fact that I can't even pretend anymore. He doe

EmonThe silence in the house had a new texture to it.It wasn’t peace.It was absence, thick and echoing. A hollow sort of quiet that made you feel like something had just slipped past you, just out of reach, and left behind the scent of sorrow.Albert wasn’t in bed when I woke up.Again.The sheets beside me were cool, untouched. No imprint of his body. No warmth. Just a space that once belonged to him.I sat on the edge of the mattress, running a hand over my face as the ache in my chest settled deeper. My fingers paused at my temples, my head had been pounding every morning lately. Probably from all the pretending.Pretending I didn’t notice the late-night walks that lasted too long.Pretending I didn’t hear the soft click of the door when he thought I was asleep.Pretending I didn’t smell another scent on his clothes when he returned, a scent I couldn’t name but that stirred something deep in me. Something ancient. Something afraid.The funny thing about heartbreak is that it doe

EmonI didn’t know what I expected to feel walking back into the house that day. Relief, maybe. Closure, even. Instead, all I felt was dread pooling at the pit of my stomach as soon as I saw Albert curled up on the couch, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm and with tears streaming down his beautiful face.“Albert? Baby? What's wrong?” I dropped the envelope of notes I had collected at the library and rushed to him. “What’s wrong? What happened, Love?”His skin was damp with sweat, and his breath came in shallow gasps. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, like he was holding something broken in place.“It’s fine,” he whispered, though nothing about him looked fine. “I’m fine. It will pass.”I crouched in front of him and touched his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, glazed and weary, but they found mine. “Is it Edward?”A pause…. then, a weak nod.My stomach turned over.“You went to him again,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. Not angry. Not yet. Just... sh

AlI woke up to silence. Thick, unnatural and heavy like something had been waiting for me to stir.The world outside the window was black, not just night, but the kind of darkness that made you feel like the stars had turned their backs. My mouth was dry. My skin burned. Something was wrong.I could feel it in my bones.I sat up slowly, the blanket slipping off my shoulders.“Emon?” I called out, voice cracking.No answer.I blinked against the dim room, letting my eyes adjust. The lights were off. The air felt colder than it should have been. Still, I waited, maybe he was in the kitchen. The bathroom. Maybe he had just stepped out for some air.But five minutes passed.Ten.Still nothing except the answering silence.Panic began to stir in my chest.I climbed to my feet, my joints stiff and aching. My shirt clung to me with sweat. My body was too warm, too sensitive. I recognized the signs. The bond. It was pulling again, stronger this time, like it knew I was alone.I reached for m

EmonThe second drink went down smoother than the first. Or maybe I was just getting used to tasting ancient magic.Bibi Kamwe sat across from me again, her old hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes shining like moons in the firelight.“You are about to learn something most humans never do,” she said. “Knowledge like this doesn’t come through books. It comes through blood. Through memory. I am trusting you not to harm others with it because there is always a price to pay.”I nodded, though my hands were still shaking.“I’m ready.”She watched me for a long moment, as if testing my words for cracks. Then she stood, slow and deliberate, and walked to a large chest beneath a shelf of animal skulls.She opened it and pulled out a scroll, thick, old parchment rolled and bound in leather. When she unwrapped it, the air shifted. Heavy. Sacred.She laid it on the table between us.The drawings weren’t like anything I had seen in school or folklore. They were brutal and elegant all at once,