Not the professor's "Baby"

DECISIONS

Saturday mornings were supposed to be quiet.

They usually meant sleeping late, making pancakes with too much syrup, and lying on the couch scrolling t****k until noon. But that Saturday, I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into the living room.

Zina was sitting stiffly on the couch, holding a small brown package in her lap. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d already been crying or yelling before I got there.

“What’s that?” I asked carefully, dropping my phone onto the table.

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me, her jaw tight.

“Zina, what is that?” I asked again, voice sharper this time.

“This came for you,” she said finally, her voice low.

“For me?”

She held it out. I took it, hands already shaking before I even opened it. Inside was a small black box with gold edges and a folded letter on top.

I picked up the letter, unfolding it slowly, dreading every word before I read it.

Michelle,

I know I said we should keep our distance but I couldn’t help it. I saw this and thought of you. Please don’t be angry. You don’t owe me anything, but I can’t pretend I don’t still think about you.

Daniel

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep breathing.

“Open the box,” Zina said, her voice flat.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple and expensive looking, the kind that whispered taste instead of screaming money.

“Michelle, what the actual f**k?” Zina’s voice broke, her hand slamming onto the coffee table.

“Zina, I can explain,” I started.

“Explain what? That you’re f*****g our professor?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

“I saw the name, Michelle. Dr Grent. Daniel Grent. The same Dr Grent you suddenly went quiet about. The same one you met that night? The same one you’ve been lying to me about for weeks?”

“I wasn’t lying, I just didn’t tell you,” I whispered.

“Same thing!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “You live in the same room as me, you tell me when your period is late, but you don’t tell me you’re sleeping with a man old enough to be your dad?”

“I’m not sleeping with him anymore,” I shot back, feeling heat rise in my chest.

“Oh, so you think that makes it okay? You still lied!”

“I was going to tell you,” I said, voice shaking.

“When? After the wedding? After he got you pregnant?”

“Don’t say that,” I snapped.

“Why? It’s true! You’re acting like it’s some romantic movie. He’s your professor, Michelle. This is real life. He could ruin everything for you. He could lose his job. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” I whispered, sinking onto the couch.

She stood over me, tears in her eyes. “And you still didn’t think when you gave him our address?”

“I didn’t give him our address,” I whispered.

“Then how the f**k does he know where we live?” she demanded.

I couldn’t answer. I had no idea. My stomach twisted, a cold panic spreading under my ribs.

“You don’t even know, do you?” Zina whispered, softer now but no less angry. “God, Michelle. This isn’t a game. He’s not a boy from campus. He’s a grown man who can do whatever the f**k he wants.”

“That’s not who he is,” I protested weakly.

“You don’t know who he is! You’ve known him what, a month? You think that’s enough to know someone like him?”

I looked down at the bracelet, fingers curling tight around it.

Zina wiped her face roughly, smearing her mascara. “I don’t even know who you are right now,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back.

She shook her head. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. You lied to me. You kept something this big. You let me sit there telling you about Jason and crying over nothing, while you were living a whole other life.”

My voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to tell you. It didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “You still should have told me.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

She turned away, walking into the kitchen, wiping her face again. I sat there, staring at the letter, the bracelet heavy in my hand. My chest hurt, my heart pounding so loud it felt like it echoed in the room.

I picked up my phone, fingers trembling. His number was still there, even though I’d sworn not to call again.

The phone barely rang twice before he picked up.

“Michelle,” his voice was calm, deep, familiar enough to hurt.

“How did you get my address?” I demanded, skipping any greeting.

“Calm down, please,” he said softly.

“No. Tell me,” I snapped.

“I asked someone from administration. It wasn’t hard,” he admitted.

“You what? Are you insane?”

“I just wanted to send you something. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice low.

“You shouldn’t have. You have no right,” I hissed.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.

I was quiet, breathing hard, the words sticking in my throat.

“You can’t just decide to show up in my life again like this,” I whispered finally.

“I’m not showing up. I just... I still care,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I shot back.

Silence. Just his breathing on the other end.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly.

“I don’t want this,” I said.

“You don’t mean that,” his voice was gentle, almost pleading.

“Yes, I do,” I lied.

“Michelle...”

“I said no,” I cut him off, tears stinging my eyes.

“I won’t bother you again,” he whispered.

“Good,” I whispered, then ended the call before I could change my mind.

The room felt too small, the air heavy. My fingers tightened around the bracelet until it dug into my skin. I dropped it back into the box, pushing it away like it could burn me.

Zina walked back in, wiping her hands on a towel, her face still red.

“You called him, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

“I told him to stop,” I whispered.

She didn’t answer, just leaned against the doorway, looking exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, voice breaking.

“I heard you the first time,” she whispered.

“Zina, please,” I whispered, but the words felt empty.

She shook her head. “I need some space, Michelle. I can’t even look at you right now.”

My chest hurt so badly it felt like it would split open. “Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

“I’m not saying forever,” she said, voice flat. “But right now? I can’t. I really can’t.”

She turned, walking toward her room, closing the door behind her.

I stood there in the living room, the letter and the bracelet still on the table, the silence so loud it felt like it screamed.

For a long time, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

I thought about calling him again. About explaining. About asking why he couldn’t just let go.

But instead, I sank onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, pressing my face against them until my breath turned into shaky sobs I couldn’t stop.

For the first time, I let myself say it out loud, so quiet even I could barely hear it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

But part of me knew it wasn’t over. Not really.

And that scared me more than anything.