บททั้งหมดของ My professor, my stalker: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to hold himself together. “I can’t fucking believe it. Jesus—fuck.” I don’t respond right away. I don’t even know how to. My teeth sink into my lower lip as something uneasy starts to crawl up my spine. His reaction feels… disproportionate. Too strong. Too personal. And I can’t quite tell why. Is this about his family? About Tristan? About Liam? About reputation? About Maddy? He leans back in his seat, exhaling sharply, like he’s already exhausted by the conversation. “I can’t speak to you right now, Raven,” he says, shaking his head with finality. “You’re not good for my brother. For my family. You won’t be able to handle what goes on in our world.” My chest tightens slightly, but I stay quiet. “If you’ve met Maddy, you’ve seen it,” he continues, his tone flattening. “You’ve seen how twisted she is. That’s the kind of person who stays. The kind who can stay.” His eyes flick to mine, assessing, almost cold.

It looks like something out of a fairytale. The room wraps around me in warmth, the fire casting a soft glow that dances across the walls and reflects in the glass beyond. Without thinking, I slip off my vest, suddenly too warm, too aware of my own skin. Tristan takes it from me, but I barely notice, my attention fixed entirely on the lake. “This is beautiful,” I breathe. It’s more than that. The space feels intimate in a way the rest of the house didn’t. Plush carpet underfoot, a wide couch layered with soft throws, the entire right wall alive with low-burning fire. The seating area is raised slightly, just three steps, positioned perfectly to overlook the water. No television. No distractions. Just the fire. One large couch. The view. And him. “When it freezes,” Tristan says from behind me, his voice low, grounding, “you can ice skate on the lake. In summer, you can swim.” I glance over my shoulder. He’s already settled on the couch, one arm draped casually, a steaming cup

I leave him in the room and walk barefoot through the hallway, the quiet stretching unnaturally around me. The floor is cool beneath my feet, grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed after the heat of his touch, the weight of him still lingering on my skin. One entire wall is made of glass, and sunlight pours in without restraint, flooding the space with a brightness that feels almost intrusive. Outside, the lake shimmers under the sun, its surface deceptively calm. I find myself drawn to it, to the idea of stepping into the water, letting the cold wrap around my ankles, my legs—washing something unnamed out of me. Maybe Tristan would let me go down there. Maybe I can go for an ice cold dip. The hallway stretches on, lined with identical doors, each one closed, each one giving nothing away. What did he say again? End of the hall to the right? I'm pretty sure that's what he said. Without thinking too much about it, I reach the last door and push it open with my shoulder, a

I run straight into a mirror. The impact jolts through my skull, sharp and disorienting, and a startled sound escapes me before I can stop it. "Ouch!" I say out loud, side-stepping it. Only to crash into another mirror. For a second, I just stand there, breath caught, heart racing, vision swimming as I look up. You've got to be kidding me. Of all the places I could have run—of all the rides in this godforsaken fair—I ended up in a house of mirrors. Seriously?! A hysterical laugh nearly claws its way up my throat, but I swallow it down. Not now. Not here. Shit! I force my hands out in front of me, palms brushing against cold glass as I start moving, slower now, trying to feel my way through. The reflections distort everything—stretching, shrinking, multiplying me into dozens of versions of myself, none of them real, none of them helpful. If I can just find the back exit… if I can get out near the river… he won’t find me there. Nobody would. Fireworks explode outside, the muffl

Fuck. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. I watch her disappear into the darkening sky, her figure growing smaller with every uneven step. She’s limping from the fall, but she doesn’t slow down. She doesn’t look back. The sight of her running from me twists something deep inside my chest, something primal and ugly that I have spent years learning how to control. My hand is still wrapped around the fence. The cold metal bites into my palm, but I barely feel it. Shit. Anger comes first. Hot and immediate. She ran from me. Then desperation follows, swallowing it whole. Panic. I shake my head, forcing myself to breathe. This isn’t happening. She isn’t slipping through my fingers. Not after everything. Not now. I don't care what she finds. I don't care what she knows. I need to get her back. She's mine. The thought is so absolute that it frightens even me. She has no choice. None. I hit the fence one final time before turning away from the fair. I walk past the hou