PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 13 Shifting

The shift was immediate. It was subtle, but undeniable. Conversations quieted. Attention sharpened.

He walked onto the stage with the same composed authority I remembered, dressed this time in a tailored dark suit that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding frame.

Every movement was controlled and effortless, as if he was accustomed to being watched… and unaffected by it.

I felt it again. That same unexplainable pull. Truly annoying and persistent.

I forced myself to look away. This wasn’t about him. I had work to do.

The ceremony continued… introductions, acknowledgments, presentations about the purpose of the gala and the foundations it supported.

Then, Wilthon spoke.

His voice carried easily across the space… deep, steady, wary. He didn’t need theatrics. Didn’t need exaggerated gestures.

He spoke with clarity, with control, emphasizing the importance of responsibility… not just as students, but as individuals capable of making a difference.

It wasn’t long. But it was effective. By the time he stepped down, the applause was genuine.

I didn’t clap immediately. Because I was too busy trying to understand why my chest felt tight again. I exhaled slowly and looked away.

Focus.

By evening, the formal atmosphere had softened into something more social.

Music filled the air. Lights dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow across the open space as students gathered near the central area where a dance floor had been set up.

I had just finished checking on our booth when I felt someone step beside me.

“Nyra.”

I turned.

It was Wallace.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked.

I blinked. “Now?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t understand the situation, but because I was suddenly aware of the eyes around us.

People were watching. Of course, they were.

Wallace Rachford didn’t ask just anyone to dance. And I… I was still, in many ways, an outsider.

Refusing him here, publicly, would draw more attention than accepting. And attention was the last thing I wanted.

So, I nodded. “Alright.”

He didn’t smile widely… just a small, controlled shift in expression before he offered his hand.

I took it.

The moment we stepped onto the dance floor, I felt it. The shift. Whispers. Stares.

Some curious. Some are clearly annoyed. Some… jealous. I ignored all of it.

I had learned to.

Wallace’s hand settled lightly at my waist, guiding me into position as the music slowed into something softer and slower.

“You don’t need to pay attention to them,” he said quietly.

“I’m not,” I replied.

He studied me briefly, then nodded as if satisfied.

We moved in rhythm… nothing complicated, just enough to blend into the flow of other pairs around us.

For a moment, it felt… normal. Strangely so.

“You’ve been busy,” he said after a while.

“So have you,” I replied.

“Comes with the role.”

I glanced at him. “Do you like it?”

A small pause.

“It’s necessary.”

That wasn’t really an answer. But I let it go. Then, his gaze shifted slightly, more focused now.

“Can I ask you something?”

I hesitated briefly. “Depends on what it is.”

A faint hint of amusement touched his expression. “Fair.”

A short pause again before he spoke.

“Where did you learn to do all that?” he asked. “The teaching. The way you handle the kids.”

I blinked, slightly caught off guard by the question.

“The orphanage,” I said. “I used to help the younger ones with their lessons. I remember telling you that before you signed the papers.”

He nodded slowly, as if that explained something.

“And before that?”

I frowned slightly. “Before what?”

“Before the orphanage.”

I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything before it.”

That seemed to catch his attention.

“You grew up there?”

“Yes.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

“That explains a lot,” he murmured.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “What does that mean?”

He looked at me again, something unreadable in his expression.

“It means,” he said slowly, “you learned how to stand on your own earlier than most people here.”

I didn’t respond immediately. Because that… that wasn’t wrong.

The music continued around us, the noise of the crowd blending into the background. And for a moment, I forgot about the stares. Forgot about everything else.

Because, for reasons I didn’t fully understand yet, dancing with Wallace Rachford no longer felt like something I had to endure.

It felt like something… steady. And that alone, was enough to unsettle me.

The noise around us blurred into the background… laughter, footsteps, quiet conversations, none of it quite reaching where we stood.

Then Wallace exhaled, almost like he had been holding something back.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

I glanced at him, not stopping our movement. “You already said that.”

“Not like this.”

There was something different in his tone this time… less controlled, less rehearsed.

“I mean it properly,” he added. “Not just because it was expected.”

I didn’t interrupt. I let him continue.

“I was an ass to you,” he said bluntly. “From the beginning.”

That caught my attention, not because of the words, but because of how easily he said them.

“No excuse,” he went on. “I just… got used to things going my way. People adjusting, people avoiding conflict.” A faint, almost self-aware smile crossed his lips. “I didn’t think about what that actually does to someone else.”

I watched him carefully. He wasn’t looking at the crowd. He wasn’t performing. He was looking at me.

“And you didn’t adjust,” he continued. “You didn’t avoid it. You pushed back.” A small pause. “No one does that.”

“I’m not ‘no one,’” I replied quietly.

“I noticed.”

There was no arrogance in that response. Just acknowledgment.

The music shifted slightly, and he adjusted his hold, guiding us through another turn before speaking again.

“I’m not asking you to forget anything,” he said. “Or to suddenly trust me. I know it doesn’t work like that.”

At least he understood that much.

“But I am trying to change it,” he added. “What I did. How I acted. All of it.”

I held his gaze for a moment longer than I intended. Because I could see it. Not perfectly. Not completely.

But enough to recognize that this wasn’t the same person who had cornered me in the hallway days ago.

Still, that didn’t mean I could just accept it.

“I believe that you’re trying,” I said carefully.

His expression didn’t shift, but his attention sharpened slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I trust you,” I continued.

A brief silence followed. Then he nodded once.

“That’s fair.”

No argument. No attempt to convince me otherwise. Just acceptance.

“I’m not asking for trust right away,” he said. “Just… a chance to earn it.”

I exhaled softly, my thoughts more complicated than I wanted them to be.

Because part of me wanted to dismiss it. To stay guarded. To keep things simple.

But another part, a quieter one, acknowledged what I was seeing.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

It wasn’t a promise. But it wasn’t a rejection either. And that seemed to be enough. Because for the first time since this conversation started…

Wallace smiled.

Not the usual controlled expression. Not the faint smirk he used to wear like armor. This one was… lighter. Genuine.

And for some strange, unexplainable reason, I felt my own lips curve in response. Just slightly. Just enough.

I didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was already there. And that… that unsettled me more than anything else that night.

The months that followed unfolded in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

Life at the university, once something I had to endure, slowly became something I could actually enjoy.

Not in a dramatic, life-changing way, but in quiet, steady improvements that made each day feel a little less like a battle.

No one bothered me anymore.

The whispers faded. The stares lost their edge. Even the people who once seemed eager to watch me fail now kept their distance, choosing silence over risk.

The incident had done more than just stop the bullying… it had shifted how people saw me. Or maybe, how they chose to treat me.

Academically, nothing got easier.

If anything, it became more demanding as the semester progressed. The workload increased, expectations grew higher, and every subject required consistent effort.

But it was manageable. I had learned how to pace myself, how to prioritize, how to survive under pressure.

That part of my life stayed grounded, stable and predictable.

What didn’t stay the same, was everything else.

Wallace.

Somewhere between gala preparations, shared lunches, and those quiet, unexpected conversations, the distance between us disappeared.

It didn’t happen all at once. There was no single moment I could point to and say, this is where everything changed.

It was gradual.

He started walking with me between classes… not always, but often enough that it became familiar.

He would wait without making it obvious, fall into step beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lunches became shared, not just occasional. Conversations stretched longer, easier and less guarded.

And he was… different. Consistently. Not just in front of others. Not just when it was convenient.

But in the small things. He paid attention.

If I skipped a meal because I was too busy, he noticed. If I looked exhausted, he didn’t ignore it.

He would show up with something simple… coffee, food, sometimes just quiet company when I didn’t feel like talking.

He never made a big deal out of it. Which somehow made it matter more.

And then there were moments that caught me completely off guard… like when he adjusted his schedule just to walk me back to the dorm after late classes, or when he stood just a little closer than necessary in crowded spaces, creating a barrier I didn’t ask for but didn’t push away either.

It was… careful. Intentional. And undeniably real. Somewhere along the way, people started noticing.

Of course they did.

And just like that, the way they treated me shifted again. But this time, it wasn’t avoidance.

It was… attention.

Doors held open a second longer. Conversations softened when I passed. Even professors seemed to regard me differently, not unfairly, but with a certain awareness they didn’t show before.

It wasn’t because of me. I knew that. It was because of him.

Wallace Rachford didn’t just change his behavior.

He changed my place in the system. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Because while part of me appreciated the peace, another part remained cautious… aware that this kind of treatment wasn’t something I had earned the same way I earned everything else in my life.

Still, I didn’t push him away. Because somewhere between doubt and reason, something else had started to grow.

Something I didn’t plan for. Something I didn’t expect.

Feelings.

Real ones.

They didn’t come suddenly.

They built quietly, through consistency, through trust slowly forming despite my resistance.

Through the way he looked at me, not like I was beneath him, not like I was someone to control… but like I mattered.

And that… that was dangerous. Because I wasn’t used to it.