Lahat ng Kabanata ng FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Cherish’s POV I didn’t plan on going to his office. I told myself I was only walking across campus to clear my head. Then I told myself I just needed to return a book to the library. By the time I was standing in front of his door after hours, both of those lies had already collapsed. I was angry.
I was scared.
And I was so frustrated I could barely sit still. I knocked harder than necessary. Dalton opened the door like he had been expecting me. He was still in his shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled up, tie gone. The second he saw my face, something in his expression shifted. “Cherish.” I pushed past him into the office. “Don’t say my name like that.” He closed the door and locked it without asking. The soft click made my pulse jump. “You’ve been ignoring me for days,” he said, turning to face me. “You get threatening texts and decide the solution is to disappear.” “Maybe I disappeared because every time I get close to you, someone new tries to warn me off.” My voice came out

Dalton’s POV The email arrived at 9:14 a.m. Please come to my office at 11:00. Confidential. I knew what it was the moment I read the subject line. Still, I forced myself to finish the lecture I was preparing, answered two student emails, and only then stood up and walked across the hall. Professor Ellison was already seated when I entered. The folder on her desk was closed, but the way her fingers rested on top of it told me everything. She gestured to the chair opposite her. I sat. “There’s been an anonymous complaint,” she began without preamble. “Regarding an inappropriate relationship between you and a student.” I kept my voice even. “That’s a serious accusation.” “It is. Which is why we’re having this conversation.” “May I see the complaint?” She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not at this stage. No names were provided, but the details were specific enough that the university can’t ignore it. Mentions of private meetings, after-hours contact, and a tone that s

Cherish’s POV Lila showed up at my apartment at seven with a half-finished bottle of wine in one hand and a determined look that meant I wasn’t getting out of this. “Get dressed,” she said, already walking past me into the living room. “Something cute. Not the hoodie you’ve been living in. We’re going out.” I closed the door behind her. “I’m not really in the mood.” “That’s exactly why you’re coming. You’ve been weird for days. You barely answer my texts, you look like you haven’t slept properly, and every time your phone lights up you stare at it like it might explode. So tonight we’re fixing that.” I didn’t have the energy to fight her. After the call with my mother and the growing weight of everything connected to Dalton, the idea of staying alone with my thoughts felt worse than going out. I changed into black jeans and a simple top, pulled my hair into a loose ponytail, and followed her downstairs. The bar Lila chose was close to campus, loud enough that conversation had to

Cherish’a POV Adrian chose a small Italian restaurant a short walk from campus. Warm lights hung over wooden tables, and the air smelled of garlic, tomato, and fresh bread. It was the kind of place that felt safe—quiet enough for real conversation, busy enough that silence never became uncomfortable. He stood when I reached the table and pulled out my chair. “You look really nice,” he said. “Thanks.” I sat down and placed my bag beside my feet. “This place is cute.” “I thought it might be better than another loud bar.” He smiled, easy and open. “Less chance of Lila appearing out of nowhere to give live commentary.” I managed a small laugh. “She does have a talent for that.” We ordered drinks first. Adrian asked what I liked and then told the waiter without making a show of it. When the glasses arrived he lifted his slightly. “To new attempts,” he said. I touched my glass to his and took a sip. The wine was decent. Everything about the evening so far was decent. That should

Cherish’S POV I waited until the last of the afternoon classes had ended before I went looking for him. The faculty hallway was quieter than usual. Most of the office doors were closed. When I reached his, it was half open. Dalton sat behind the desk with his sleeves rolled to the elbows, staring at a blank space on the wall. A faint bruise had already started to darken across the knuckles of his right hand. The same hand that had connected with Adrian’s jaw only a few hours earlier. He looked up when I stepped inside. Something moved across his face—relief, tension, something harder to name—but he didn’t speak first. I closed the door behind me harder than I needed to. The sound was sharp in the quiet room. “You punched him in front of half the campus.” Dalton leaned back in the chair slowly. “I know.” “People recorded it. A staff member saw it happen. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” “Yes.” The calm in his voice made the anger under my skin burn hotter. I stepped cl