The Day Everything Felt Wrong
741 Words
Debbie’s Pov:
By the time I got back to the hostel I was tired.
Not normal tired.
The type of tired where your brain stops producing thoughts and your legs feel borrowed.
I unlocked the room.
Silence.
I looked around.
Empty.
That was unusual.
Elaine usually came back before me unless she was somewhere gossiping or collecting information nobody asked her to collect.
I dropped my bag and checked my phone.
One message.
Elaine:
Sleeping out tonight, don’t wait for me.
I stared.
That was it.
No explanation.
No details.
No dramatic unnecessary paragraph.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
But then again...
It was Elaine.
She was always up to something.
I typed.
Me:
You are alive, right?
Immediately she replied.
Elaine:
Unfortunately yes.
I rolled my eyes.
Normal.
I changed, showered and sat down to continue my work.
I opened the files Professor Sullivan assigned.
Finished my report.
Completed my research.
Double-checked references.
Then triple checked.
Eventually I slept.
Thinking absolutely nothing about professors.
Or libraries.
Or random business students.
Absolutely nothing.
The next day started strangely.
By the first lecture, people were already whispering.
I heard someone behind me.
“What is wrong with Professor Sullivan?”
Another answered.
“I don’t know but avoid eye contact.”
That got my attention.
When Professor Sullivan entered class...
Even I noticed immediately.
Something was wrong.
His usual neat energy was there.
Suit.
Tie.
Perfect appearance.
But that was where normal ended.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Just...
off.
He started class.
Everything was fine.
Until someone answered a wrong question.
Normally he would explain.
Break it down.
Today he just looked irritated.
“No.”
Silence.
The student blinked.
Professor Sullivan sighed.
“That answer makes absolutely no sense.”
The room froze.
People looked shocked.
He had never spoken like that before.
He continued teaching.
Then another student interrupted.
His expression changed instantly.
“If you are not paying attention then leave.”
The class became dead quiet.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Somebody accidentally dropped a pen.
Even that felt illegal.
I sat there confused.
This was not him.
This was the same professor who once spent twenty extra minutes explaining a concept because one student looked lost.
Now people looked scared to ask questions.
By the end of class, everyone practically escaped.
I stayed behind.
Then I stopped myself.
No.
Not my business.
I had TA work.
That was all.
Later that afternoon, I gathered my completed assignments and research.
I knocked on his office.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I pushed the door slightly open.
“Sir?”
No response.
I stepped inside.
His desk was empty.
His laptop was open.
The office looked normal.
Then I heard something.
Quiet.
I looked toward the small side room attached to his office.
The door was slightly open.
And then I saw him.
Professor Sullivan.
Sitting down.
Head lowered.
One hand pressed against his forehead.
His shoulders looked tense.
For one second I thought maybe he was sick.
Then he moved.
And I realized.
He was crying.
I froze.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Like someone trying very hard not to.
My heart dropped.
Suddenly, all the irritated classes.
The tired eyes.
The snapping.
Everything made sense.
I immediately stepped back.
I should leave.
Pretend I saw nothing.
That would be normal.
Professional.
Instead, my stupid feet moved.
I knocked lightly.
His head lifted immediately.
His eyes widened.
For one second, neither of us moved.
His expression changed instantly.
Back to normal.
Back to professor.
He stood.
Adjusted his glasses.
Straightened.
“Yes Miss Greene?”
Like nothing happened.
Like I imagined it.
I swallowed.
Then held up the files.
“I brought the reports.”
His eyes moved to them.
Then back to me.
There was a long silence.
Then quietly he said,
“Leave them there.”
I nodded.
Put them down.
Turned to leave.
Then stopped.
My mouth moved before my brain.
“Sir.”
He looked up.
I froze.
Too late.
I spoke quietly.
“You don’t have to answer but…”
I looked away.
“…I hope whatever it is gets better.”
Silence.
Long silence.
I regretted existing.
Then behind me I heard quietly,
“Thank you.”
I looked back.
His expression looked calm again.
But his eyes didn’t.
I left.
Closed the door.
And stood outside.
Suddenly feeling like I had just seen something I was never supposed to see.
- Writer
