Episode 15
1039 Words
Karla sat cross-legged on the balcony, her coffee cooling beside her. The sea breeze carried traces of salt and laughter from tourists below, but her attention was fixed on her phone.
She stared at the screen, heart fluttering.
After a pause, she began typing:
> *Hey. Just wanted to share some news—I cleared all my final exams. Officially a doctor now.*
She chewed her lip, hesitated a moment, then hit send.
Almost a year’s worth of hard work, anxiety, and long nights had come to this moment. And he was the first person she thought to tell.
Her chest felt light with anticipation.
A reply pinged back twenty minutes later.
> *Congratulations, Dr. Karla. Wishing you all the best in your journey ahead.*
That was it.
Her smile faltered.
No exclamation marks. No teasing nickname. No jokes about finally being his junior OB-GYN colleague. Just… professionalism.
She read the message again, hoping she missed something. But it was just polite. Distant. Cold.
As if they’d never shared a secret fair ride. As if he hadn’t once said he missed her after liking her story. As if they weren’t *them*.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and locked her phone.
It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
---
Later that evening, Karla’s mother noticed her daughter’s distracted gaze and nudged her arm.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just lost your luggage.”
Karla shook her head. “Nothing. I was just… thinking.”
“Hmm.” Her mother folded her arms. “Check your email.”
Karla blinked. “Why?”
Her father grinned from across the room. “Just do it.”
Frowning, Karla opened her inbox.
And there it was.
**Subject: Congratulations, Dr. Karla.**
The official results. She had passed—every subject cleared. Her degree was now real, tangible.
She looked up, eyes wide.
“We wanted to tell you ourselves,” her mother said, eyes twinkling. “We saw it before you did.”
Before she could say anything, her brother popped a party popper. Confetti rained over her lap.
“Surprise!” he shouted. “We brought cake!”
Her parents clapped, and her mother brought out a box of chocolate mousse pastries.
The ache in her chest loosened a little. She stood up, hugged her mother tightly, and whispered, “Thank you.”
For a moment, the sadness from earlier vanished, replaced by celebration and warmth.
---
But elsewhere, far from the laughter and cake...
Christopher was sitting on his study table, headphones on, reviewing slides when his phone buzzed.
*Uncle Dean.*
He raised an eyebrow. It was rare for his uncle to call at night unless it was something urgent.
He slid the call button and said, “Hello?”
The voice that greeted him was sharp.
“Christopher, where are you?”
“At home, studying. Why?”
There was a long pause.
“I just had a meeting with the college board,” his uncle said flatly. “You’ve been the topic of discussion.”
Christopher sat up straighter, puzzled. “Me?”
“Don’t act stupid,” the Dean snapped. “You took a student to a public event. A funfair. Multiple students saw you both. Some took photos.”
Christopher’s stomach dropped.
“We were—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” the Dean cut him off. “I trusted you. I let you step in as a substitute, even when others had objections about you being too young and too close to student age. I *vouched* for your professionalism.”
Christopher rubbed his forehead. “It wasn’t—like that. We just hung out. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing *yet*. But in the eyes of the college? The rumors already did the damage.”
His uncle’s voice turned colder.
“You’re not just some guy anymore, Christopher. You’re part of a faculty. You’re under *loco parentis*—*in place of a parent*. Do you understand what that means?”
Christopher didn’t respond. His throat felt dry.
“It means you're supposed to protect and guide these students, not entertain personal connections—especially not one-on-one trips. You think people won’t talk? She’s a student, you’re her professor. You think no one saw the glances you two shared during lectures?”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“I didn’t plan anything inappropriate—”
“But you blurred the lines,” his uncle snapped. “And the faculty knows. So do students. Her name is being whispered too, and do you want to be responsible for that girl getting shamed in the hallways?”
Christopher’s heart sank.
He hadn’t thought of that.
“She just finished her exams. She’s barely out of the system, and now everyone’s whispering about her. Do you realize what you’ve done to her reputation and yours ?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said softly.
“Intent doesn’t matter. Outcome does.”
There was a long pause.
“I’m pulling you off campus duties until this cools down,” the Dean said finally. “No lectures. No student interaction.”
Christopher’s chest tightened.
“You’re lucky I haven’t reported this formally. But next time? I won’t protect you.”
The line went dead.
Christopher sat frozen.
The screen of his laptop dimmed.
All the smiles from the fair, the shared candy floss, Karla’s soft laughter under neon lights—it all felt like it belonged to a parallel world now. One that didn’t exist anymore.
His phone buzzed again.
A notification from Karla’s i********: story.
She was smiling with her family. A caption read:
> “Celebrating becoming Dr. K.”
He stared at it.
Then at the message he had sent her earlier. Cold. Distant. Carefully professional.
He had done it on purpose.
He had told himself it was to protect them both. Especially her.
But in the process, he had crushed the only connection that had felt real in months.
His thumb hovered over her story.
He didn’t reply.
Didn’t react.
Just watched the girl he liked slowly drift away—because he was too afraid to hold on.
And now?
The whole world had noticed .
.
.
.
.
.
- Writer
