Days passed and it felt like we were balancing on a knife’s edge. Damien was more possessive than usual, not in the fun, playful way, but in the quiet, watchful way that made the air feel thicker. He didn’t hover exactly, but he was always nearby, always checking in, always touching me like he needed the reminder that I was still there, I tried to reassure him. I really did. But then Alex crossed a line.
It happened during the third seminar session. After the lecture, while most students were packing up, Alex walked over to me with that easy, professional smile.
“Elena, quick question,” he said, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear. “Those marks on your neck from the other day… they looked pretty serious. Are you really okay? If someone’s hurting you, you can tell me. I’m not
