Chapter Two- The Morning After
1191 Words
Charlotte’s POV
If guilt had a sound, it would’ve been the echo of my footsteps as I slipped out of his apartment at dawn—soft, hurried, almost ashamed of themselves.
The hallway outside his door was dim and empty. The lights hummed quietly, as if even the building knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. I hugged my bag to my chest, my heart thumping too loudly for the silence around me. The cool morning air brushed against my bare arms, grounding me and scolding me all at once.
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
Run from the heat of his hands on my skin.
Run from the memory of his mouth trailing over my neck.
Run from the terrifying truth that I hadn’t meant for any of it to happen…
and yet I hadn’t stopped it either.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I didn’t dare look back. I was afraid that if I did, I would see him standing there—sleepy, warm, confused. I was afraid he’d say my name with that low voice that had already branded itself into my spine.
I took the stairs two at a time, breath shaking.
Outside, the world was painfully normal.
Birds chirped like nothing earth-shattering had happened.
Cars rumbled down the road as if my entire life hadn’t just shifted.
The sunrise painted soft gold across the buildings, gentle, innocent… unlike me.
I felt like I was carrying a secret hot enough to burn through my clothes.
By the time I reached my shared accommodation, my legs were trembling. I opened the door quietly, praying none of my friends were awake. Their shoes were still scattered by the entrance. Someone was snoring softly. Good.
I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water run steaming hot. I stood under it until it stung, until my skin went pink, until I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could rinse him off me.
But nothing washed him away.
Not his voice whispering goodnight like he wished morning wouldn’t dare interrupt us.
Not the weight of his hands on the small of my back.
Not the way he’d kissed me like he was memorizing something he shouldn’t.
By the time I got dressed for class, exhaustion clung to me like smoke. My stomach twisted every time I thought about it. About him. About running away from someone I should never have touched in the first place.
And despite everything, a traitorous part of me wondered if he’d woken up and noticed I’d gone.
---
Campus buzzed with the usual first-day energy—people chatting, laughing, finding lecture halls with excitement and confusion. Meanwhile, every step I took felt heavier than the last. It was stupid. It was one night. I didn’t even know his name.
At least… I thought I didn’t.
When I pushed open the door to the lecture hall, the noise was loud—voices, shuffling, chairs scraping. I chose a seat near the back, hoping to sink into anonymity. My chest still felt tight. My hands were cold.
Then the room quieted.
I didn’t notice at first. I was too busy trying to steady my breathing. Too busy trying to convince myself that I wasn’t about to fall apart.
But something made me look up.
And there he was.
Standing at the podium.
Composed.
Confident.
Heartbreakingly familiar.
The stranger from last night.
No—
Not a stranger.
Dr. Ethan Cole.
His name was printed neatly on the ID card clipped to his crisp shirt. His dark tie matched the calm, professional expression he wore… but I felt the c***k in it the moment our eyes met.
His gaze swept the room.
Past the front row.
Past the middle.
Past countless innocent faces—
And then froze on mine.
Just for a second.
But a second was enough.
Recognition hit him like a silent shock. I saw the exact moment he realized who I was—the girl who had slipped out of his bed before sunrise. The girl he’d touched, kissed, held. The girl who shouldn’t have been there.
His grip tightened around the edge of the podium.
His jaw tensed.
His eyes flickered—surprise, disbelief, something else I couldn’t name.
Then he blinked.
One breath.
Two.
And all the emotion vanished from his face like it had never existed.
“Good morning,” he said, voice perfectly steady. Too steady.
I sank deeper into my seat, pulse racing so fast it felt like a second heartbeat inside my throat. So many pairs of eyes were on him, yet it felt like he was looking only at me—even when he wasn’t.
I tried to listen.
I really did.
But the lecture dissolved into white noise. Words floated around me without landing. My pen hovered over my notebook, but I couldn’t write a single thing.
Every time he glanced in my direction—
or maybe I only imagined it—
heat prickled up my neck.
The guilt was bad enough.
The shame was worse.
But the worst part?
I wasn’t only thinking about the mistake.
I was thinking about the way he’d looked at me last night.
The way he’d touched me like it mattered.
The way I’d left without giving him a chance to say anything.
I shouldn’t have been thinking about him.
Not here.
Not now.
Not like this.
But I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t breathe.
And I couldn’t change the fact that the man who had held me in the dark was now standing under harsh fluorescent lights, pretending he didn’t know me.
When the lecture finally ended, I stayed frozen in my seat, as if moving too fast might draw attention. Students gathered their bags, chatted, slipped out the doors without a second thought.
I waited until most of them had left before I dared to stand.
He was still packing up his notes.
His shoulders were tense.
He didn’t look up.
And maybe that hurt more than it should have.
Because now I realized something that made my stomach twist painfully:
There was no running anymore.
No slipping out before dawn.
No pretending last night never happened.
No going back to who I was before him.
Because I was his student.
And he was my lecturer.
And the night we shared…
was the very last thing either of us could afford.
---
By the time the lecture ended, I was barely breathing. Students gathered around him, asking questions, laughing. I sat frozen, pretending to pack my bag slowly.
I could feel his gaze even when I didn’t meet it.
When I finally stood to leave, his voice cut through the noise — low, firm.
“Miss… Adanna, is it?”
My stomach dropped. Every head in the front row turned.
“Yes, sir?” I managed, my voice barely steady.
He gave a small, polite smile. “Stay behind for a minute. I’d like a quick word.”
My best friend nudged me, wide-eyed and grinning. “You’ve already caught the lecturer’s attention? Girl, what did you do?”
If only she knew.
---
- Writer
