THE LINE WE WEREN'T MEANT TO CROSS

*Chapter 9: After Monday*

For two weeks, we were perfect.

Professional. Distant. Clean.

The door stayed open every time I came by. We talked about regression models and literature reviews and deadlines. Elias called me “Lena” like he used to, but without the weight behind it. I called him “Professor Reed” even when we were alone.

It worked. On paper.

But it felt like holding my breath underwater.

He stopped staying late on Thursdays. I stopped pretending I didn’t notice.

He stopped asking how I was sleeping. I stopped telling him.

We kept the line between us visible, and it was exhausting.

On the third Friday, I finished my chapter draft early.

I almost didn’t go.

At 8:11 PM, I found myself outside his office anyway. The door was open. He was there, same as always, reading with his brow furrowed.

“You’re early,” he said, not looking up.

“I’m done,” I said. “Chapter four.”

That got his attention. He set the paper down and motioned me in.

We went through it for forty minutes. Real feedback. No hesitation. No lingering looks.

When we finished, he leaned back and said, “This is good, Lena. Really good.”

“Thanks,” I said. I stood to leave, but my feet didn’t move.

He noticed.

“Something else?”

I shook my head. Then I stopped.

“Do you ever miss it?” I asked.

“Miss what?”

“Us. Before the line. Before the door.”

He went quiet. The kind of quiet that answers without words.

“Lena,” he said finally, “I think about it every day. That’s why the door stays open.”

I nodded. I didn’t know if I felt relieved or gutted.

“Goodnight, Professor Reed,” I said.

“Goodnight, Lena.”

I walked out with the door still open behind me.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to close it.