Healing His Shadows

Chapter 10: Shadows in the Hallway

-POV Elara

The campus gala was supposed to be a nice break. Alumni night, fancy dresses, lights strung up across the old quad, live music drifting from the main hall. I’d told myself I’d smile, nod, and pretend everything was fine for one night. Gelano had insisted we go together—“show the world we’re solid, babe.” So here I was, in the red dress he loved, arm linked with his, walking into the crowded venue like we were the perfect couple.

Physical barrier. The crowd pressed around us, bodies in suits and gowns creating walls of chatter and perfume. I kept my arm through Gelano’s but my mind was somewhere else—on Fletcher’s almost-touch in the hallway yesterday, on the way his fingers had hovered so close it still burned on my skin hours later. Gelano’s cologne mixed with the heavy scent of flowers and wine in the air, but it only made my stomach twist.

We found our table near the stage. Old classmates waved, professors smiled. I forced laughs at the right moments, sipped the too-sweet champagne, and tried not to check my phone every two minutes. White space. Big gaps of silence in my head where I kept replaying everything—the hotel receipt, Gloria’s video, Fletcher’s quiet offer. The unanswered question kept looping: why did the wrong man feel more real than the one holding my hand right now?

Gelano leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “You look stunning tonight. Everyone’s staring at you.” His hand rested on my lower back, warm and possessive, but it felt like a cage instead of comfort.

I smiled small. “Thanks.”

Inside, I was screaming. The diamond ring caught the chandelier light every time I moved, throwing little sparks that felt like mockery. I twisted it absentmindedly, over and over, the metal digging into my skin like a reminder I couldn’t escape.

The music swelled. People danced. Gelano pulled me onto the floor for one song, spinning me under the lights, laughing like old times. For a moment I let myself lean into it—the familiarity, the habit. But when the song ended and we stepped off the floor, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

Unknown number. No text. Just a photo.

I opened it without thinking.

Me. And Fletcher. In the hospital hallway. His hand hovering near my cheek, my face tilted toward him, eyes half-closed like I was seconds from melting. The angle made it look way more intimate than it was. Rain droplets on his fingers, my hair messy from the shift, the tension between us captured perfectly in one frozen second.

My blood ran cold.

Another message came right after. This time in the big campus alumni group chat—the one with hundreds of people from our batch, professors, even some sponsors.

“Dr. Hart moving on already? 🔥 With the Draven guy no less. Congrats on the upgrade!”

The photo was attached. Comments started flooding in instantly.

“Damn, Elara always had taste.” “Wait is that Fletcher Draven? The mafia prince?” “Gelano must be devastated lol” “Iconic couple tho”

I stared at the screen, thumb frozen. The group chat kept blowing up. More reactions. More laughing emojis. Someone even screenshotted it and added “campus scandal of the year.”

Gelano’s phone buzzed in his pocket at the same time. He pulled it out, face going pale as he scrolled. His hand dropped from my waist like I’d burned him.

“Babe… what the f**k is this?” His voice was low, but the anger was right there under the surface. He looked around the room like everyone was already whispering about us.

I couldn’t answer. The unanswered question screamed louder than the music. Why did one almost-touch with Fletcher feel more real than years with Gelano? Why was my life exploding in public while I was still wearing this ring?

Gelano grabbed my arm, pulling me toward a quieter corner near the bar. Physical barrier—the crowd and the noise created walls around us, but it didn’t stop the phones lighting up everywhere.

“This is bullshit,” he hissed. “Someone photoshopped it or something. You were at the hospital. Working. Right?”

I looked at him. Really looked. The charming mask was cracking, panic flashing in his eyes. “It wasn’t photoshopped, Glenn.”

His grip tightened. “Then what? You let him touch you? In front of everyone? While I’m out here trying to fix us?”

The deflection started again, but this time it felt different. Weaker. I pulled my arm free, the ring suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The group chat kept pinging. More comments. More photos from different angles someone had clearly been waiting to leak. My face on every screen in the room.

I stepped back, the crowd swallowing me for a second. White space. Just me and the ringing in my ears and the unanswered question that wouldn’t shut up.

Why did the wrong man’s almost-touch feel like the only real thing left in my life?

And what the hell was I supposed to do now that the whole campus knew?

End of Chapter 10