Chapter 3
1206 Words
I woke to light.
Not the harsh kind that demanded awareness, but the soft spill of morning creeping through glass walls, turning the city below into something distant and unreal. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was too high. The silence too complete.
Sebastian slept beside me.
He lay on his back, one arm bent above his head, chest rising in a slow, even rhythm. In sleep, he looked disarmingly calm, the sharp confidence from the night before softened by rest. Sunlight caught in his dirty blond hair, warming it to gold, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, the sight tightened something in my chest.
I let myself linger.
I traced the moment instead of the memory—warm sheets, quiet air, the faint scent of him still clinging to the room. It felt unreal, like waking inside a dream that hadn’t quite released me yet.
Eventually, reality crept in.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. The screen glowed with reminders I couldn’t ignore. Classes. Time. Life waiting beyond the glass.
Carefully, I slipped from the bed. I dressed in silence, movements slow, deliberate. When I caught my reflection, I barely recognized myself—curly brown hair loose around my shoulders, skin still warm, eyes brighter than usual. I looked like someone who had crossed a line and hadn’t decided what it meant yet.
I looked back at him once more.
“I should go,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure who I was saying it for.
I left without goodbyes, closing the door softly behind me, carrying the night with me like a secret.
---
Campus felt louder than it ever had.
The lecture hall buzzed with early-morning energy—chairs scraping, conversations overlapping, the smell of coffee hanging in the air. I slipped into my seat, smoothing my skirt, grounding myself in routine.
This was familiar. Safe.
Then the door opened.
Sebastian walked in, late and unhurried.
He wore dark slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, watch catching the light as he moved. His presence shifted the room without effort. Heads turned. Whispers followed.
His eyes swept the room.
Found me.
Just long enough to make my pulse spike.
Then he looked away and took a seat two rows behind me.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Montgomery,” the professor said dryly.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sebastian replied, tone easy.
I kept my eyes on my notes, but I could feel him behind me—close enough to matter.
After class, the professor clapped his hands. “Before you leave, this semester’s major project will be done in groups. I’ll assign them now.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Names were called. Seats shifted.
“Isla Montclair.”
I lifted my hand.
“And Sebastian Montgomery.”
My breath caught.
I stood quickly, gathering my things. “We should set boundaries,” I said under my breath as he approached.
He stopped a careful distance away, lips curving slightly. “You left.”
“That wasn’t an invitation.”
“No,” he said calmly. “But it wasn’t a rejection either.”
I met his eyes—blue, steady, unreadable. “This is school. That’s all.”
“For now,” he replied.
The certainty in his voice unsettled me.
---
“Isla!”
Elodia’s voice cut through the hallway.
I stepped out of the classroom to find Elodia Ara Windsor leaning against the wall, her nursing books tucked under her arm.
“There you are,” she said, relief flooding her face. “I was starting to think you vanished.”
“Almost,” I said lightly. “What’s wrong?”
She shoved her notes toward me. “This assignment. I don’t even know what they want from me.”
I smiled. “Let’s take a look.”
As we talked, footsteps approached.
Sebastian exited the classroom behind us.
Elodia glanced up, curiosity flickering briefly across her face. She didn’t say anything, just observed him in passing. He didn’t look at her—not really—his attention lingering on me instead.
Our eyes met again.
Brief. Charged.
Then he walked past.
Ara leaned in. “Your classmate?”
“Yes,” I said, too quickly.
“He looks intense.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She shrugged. “Anyway—come home with me. I need help, and my brain’s fried.”
---
Elodia’s house was quiet and immaculate, hidden behind iron gates and trimmed hedges. Inside, everything gleamed—marble floors, glass railings, photographs of business deals and galas lining the walls.
“This place still intimidates me,” Elodia said, kicking off her shoes. “Like it’s reminding me I chose the wrong dream.”
“You chose your own,” I said.
---
Elodia leaned back against the couch, rubbing her temples as she stared at the open notebook on her lap. “Isla,” she said quietly, “can I ask you something?”
Isla looked up from her notes. “Of course. What is it?”
“I’m struggling with this part,” Elodia admitted, tapping the page. “The difference between medical and surgical asepsis. I get it in theory, but when it comes to application… I second-guess myself.”
Isla shifted closer, scanning the notes. “Okay, think of it this way,” she said patiently. “Medical asepsis reduces microorganisms. Surgical asepsis eliminates them completely. It’s all about the goal of the procedure.”
Elodia nodded slowly. “So in wound dressing, it depends on how invasive it is?”
“Exactly,” Isla replied. “And always remember—once sterility is broken, it’s broken. No excuses.”
Elodia let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thank you. I hate feeling unsure about things like this. What if I freeze during duty?”
Isla smiled reassuringly. “You won’t. You’re careful—that’s already half the job. Just trust what you know.”
Before Elodia could respond, a voice echoed from down the hall.
“Ma’am, dinner is ready,” the house help called.
Elodia closed her notebook with a small smile. “Saved by dinner.”
Isla laughed softly as she stood. “Come on. We’ll conquer nursing after we eat.”
---
Dinner was formal, conversation revolving around markets and expansion until it turned to me.
“And how are your studies, Isla?” her father asked.
“Busy,” I answered. “But good.”
“Scholarship student, right?” he pressed.
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Hard work earns its place.”
Elodia stiffened beside me.
Later, upstairs, Elodia collapsed onto her bed. “Sometimes I feel like I have to be exceptional just to be allowed to exist here.”
I sat beside her. “You already are.”
That night, alone in the guest room, I stared at the ceiling, replaying the day—the penthouse, the classroom, the way Sebastian’s gaze lingered just long enough to feel intentional.
The dream hadn’t ended.
It had only learned how to follow me into the light.
how to follow me into the light.
- Writer
