His Forbidden Obsession

The Stranger Found Me.

(Clara)

Two weeks later…

I walked into the lecture hall clutching my iPad and writing materials to my chest. The lecture hall smelled like old coffee and polished floors….the scent clung to my nostrils and whispered you are about to be tested but I didn’t care, I was in my dream school.

Students trickled in, clutching heavy medical textbooks like their life depended on it. Their chatter hummed nervously through the room. I sank into a seat near the front….not front-and-center, where the smart ones sat, but close enough to prove I belonged.

I exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm my nerves. I was so nervous but I didn’t need to make it obvious.

My phone beeped in my pocket and I dug it out to find a text on my screen from Anna which immediately brought a smile to my face.

Go make me proud, future Dr. Stone.

I smiled, grateful that I had her by my side.

She had woken me with coffee, scrambled eggs, a running commentary about last two weeks event and how I needed to get it out of my head. She did her best to mother me through my first day of med school. I shoved the memory of him….the night, the car, the couch….deep down where I could almost ignore it.

Footsteps echoing in the room brought me out of my thoughts and I shoved my phone back into my pocket as three men in crisp white lab coats entered causing the chatter to die down instantly. They were all tall and were commanding silence with nothing but their presence.

The tallest, at the podium, began:

“Good morning, students. Welcome to Weill Cornell Medical College. Congratulations on making it here.”

An applause broke out and I clapped too, letting a small spark of pride warm me. Years of late nights, endless flash cards,relentless GPA pressure, and personal statements I rewrote so many times that I could recite them backward. I remembered the anxiety I had on the day of the interview, the desperate prayer I whispered to whatever god could hear me before walking into the room. All of that led to this.

“You are now part of one of the most elite programs in the country,” he continued. “This journey will test you, and only the most dedicated will thrive. Permit me to introduce myself, I am Professor William Raul….Dean of the Faculty of Medicine and with me are Professor Henry Piers and Professor John May”

May. That name caught my attention. Something about it sounded… fictional. Off. But maybe I was just overthinking everything. The stress was already working its magic.

“Many of you will go on to do great things,” Prof. Raul said, “but this journey will not be easy. Only the most dedicated, focused students will thrive here. We expect nothing less than excellence.”

He gave a small smile and stepped back. The man in the middle moved forward.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Professor John May. I’ll be serving as the academic advisor for the class of 2024. However, this year, we’re introducing something new.”

I perked up immediately. New usually meant opportunity.

“The top ten students in your cohort have been granted access to a mentorship program. It’s our way of pushing you to strive harder. You’ll have the chance to work closely with one of the most brilliant minds in modern medicine: Professor Callum Hart.”

The name didn’t ring a bell but it didn’t matter. Anyone who taught at Weill Cornell was a genius and I was sure Dr. Callum Hart was no exception….if anything, I looked forward to meeting him.

“He’s joining us as a faculty member this semester,” Prof. May continued. “Those selected will train under his guidance, but he’s also expressed interest in mentoring others who display exceptional promise. He’ll also be teaching some of your core courses.”

This was a fresh start, a new chapter, no reckless nights, no strangers and definitely no bruises on my thighs. I would study, excel and regain control.

May closed his folder. “Make the most of this experience. Good luck and welcome to Weil Cornell Medicine.”

The men exited the room. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

I was going to keep my head down. Study. Excel. Be the girl with the plan.

Then…

“Is that… a pink iPad?” I heard someone say from behind me.

I turned. A girl had taken the seat beside me. She had her dark hair in a perfect ponytail and she wore a white blouse so crisp it hurt to look at. Her smile was sweet, but poisonous.

“Um… yeah?” I replied cautiously.

“It’s cute. Kind of… elementary school stuff, don’t you think? Med school’s not exactly the place for glitter and pastel.”

“It’s not glitter,” I replied, voice even. “And it does the job.”

She raised an eyebrow like I had just told her I practiced medicine with crayons. Then she stuck out her hand.

“Roxie Cliff,” she said, as if that meant something. “First in the class rankings. Dr. May practically begged me to choose this program.”

I shook her hand with a tight-lipped smile. “Clara Stone. Nice to meet you.”

That was a lie.

“What rank were you place in?,” she asked as she eyes me.

“Seventh” I replied.

Her face lit with something that looked suspiciously like glee. “Oh. Well, at least you made the top ten. Barely.”

I looked back at the front of the class, hoping she’d shut up.

She didn’t.

“Orientation was interesting,” she continued. “The faculty already said most students won’t make it. The pressure eats them alive.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “Not me, though. I was born for this. I held a scalpel before I could walk. My dad’s chief of neurosurgery at Mount Sinai.”

I tuned her out after that. The words kept coming about her family legacy, surgical rotations, Harvard reject offers…and I started wondering: was it too early to hate a classmate?

Suddenly I heard footsteps as the hall became quiet again. I looked up to see if one of the professors had come back but what I saw caused my stomach to drop as my pulse raced.

It was him.

Standing tall and muscular with his dirty blonde hair falling just enough to look perfect. His grey stormy eyes which were hypnotic and mesmerizing ……same ones which had haunted my sleep for two weeks now looked expressionless as he wore a serious face.

What was he doing here?

I watched as he stepped onto the podium, adjusting his sleeves as he did so. He was so calm and composed like he had not moaned into my mouth, like my body wasn’t his memory.

“Good morning Everyone. My name is Professor Callum Hart,” he said, voice smooth, with that unmistakable Australian lilt. “I’ll be leading your Anatomy and Physiology course this semester.”

My world tilted.

Professor Callum Hart……..

The man who had f****d me senseless two weeks ago was here…as my professor.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

I kept my eyes glued to my notebook, too afraid to look at him again and too afraid of what I might see.

Or worse… what I wouldn’t.

His voice continued, steady and controlled as he began outlining the course. He sounded Clinical, detached and Professional like nothing had happened, like I was just another face in the room.

I forced myself to look up. Just for a second.

His gaze moved across the lecture hall, scanning the students one by one. He looked calm and indifferent.

It passed over me and it didn’t stop.

My chest tightened. He didn’t pause, he didn’t react at all. It was like I was invisible to him, like I hadn’t been beneath him, completely undone.

Heat rushed to my face, but this time it wasn’t desire.

It was something else. Something sharp and unsettling in my bones.

Did he not recognize me…?

Or worse…..

Did he remember… and just didn’t care?

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting.

I didn’t know which was worse….being forgotten or being remembered and treated like I meant nothing.

My grip on my pen tightened again as his voice filled the room, steady and unaffected.

I was going to be taught by him. Tested by him. Graded by him for an entire semester.

The man who had seen me at my most vulnerable……now looked right through me like I was nothing.

So much for a fresh start.