Chapter 2

Elara's POV

After I dragged Alistair back from the brink of death three times, he started showing up at the door of my doctors' lounge.

"Dr. Voss," he said, holding a bouquet of white tulips, smiling warmly. "I don't want to die anymore."

I didn’t look up, continuing to flip through my charts. "That's good news. Make sure you submit your psych evals to your therapist on time."

"I did." He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze far too intense. "Now, all I want is for you to stay with me."

"Doctors and patients don’t cross that line."

"What about after I'm discharged?"

"Still no."

He didn't get angry; he just found a new excuse to show up every day. Coffee one day, a book the next. That continued until the day Darius set me up on a blind date. Alistair had someone pass a message to the guy, saying I already had a serious boyfriend.

The guy sat in the restaurant for two hours before walking out and calling my father. Darius called me that night, interrogating me like I was a sketchy business partner. "What the hell is going on with you? You’re stringing along some professor while agreeing to a blind date? Are you trying to play both sides?"

"I’m not stringing anyone along."

"Then why did he ruin your date?"

I gripped my phone tightly. "You should ask him."

The next day, I asked him to meet me at a café across from the hospital. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit, his tie knotted immaculately. Sitting among the crowd, he genuinely looked like a highly respected professor.

"What gives you the right to interfere with my life?"

"Because I don't want anyone else getting close to you."

"Alistair, romance is just a distraction outside of work for me. I’m not monogamous, and I don’t do long-term. If you back out now, it’s not too late."

He watched me quietly for a few seconds. "I don't care how long you can love me. I just want to be with you."

"Do you not understand the word 'no'?"

"I understand it perfectly." He gripped his coffee cup, his knuckles turning white. "But only when I’m beside you do I feel safe. You’re the only person who makes me not want to die."

I should have gotten up and left right then, but those eyes pinned me to my chair.

"This is not a healthy dynamic."

"I know. So you set the rules. How, when, where I stand—it’s all up to you." He looked up. "Just don't push me away."

I agreed, with three conditions: it couldn’t interfere with my practice, we wouldn’t go public, and he couldn’t cross my boundaries.

He obeyed every single one.

No one would have believed that the elegant and gentle Professor Alistair was quietly cleaning up my surgical tools, waiting for me after night shifts, and listening to my instructions on the most trivial matters. In public, he was composed and proper; behind closed doors, he would rest his chin on my shoulder, like a ship that had finally found its harbor.

My colleagues noticed the change.

"Dr. Voss is smiling a lot more these days."

"Are you in a relationship?"

I slapped a clipboard onto the counter. "Mind your own business."

But after enduring ten-plus hours of high-pressure surgeries, going back to him really did allow me to unwind.

A year into our relationship, he spoke about his family for the first time.

"My father, Bennett, never loved me. He constantly cheated in their marriage, and whenever there was a crisis, all he cared about was keeping up appearances," he said softly. "My mother, Rosalind, has severe bipolar disorder. She jumped from a balcony—she survived, but lost most of her cognitive functions. She lives in a psychiatric care facility now. She doesn’t even recognize me."

I reached out and held his hand.

"I’ve always been terrified I inherited her illness." He looked at me. "Until I met you. Three times I was at a dead end, and the exact same person pulled me back. You are my only light. You’re the anchor of my life."

Day after day, his steady companionship slowly melted my walls. I had thought of love as a mere seasoning in life, but I grew accustomed to him waiting by my door, accustomed to hearing his voice before I slept, accustomed to giving him the most exhausted version of myself.

He made a concerted effort to win over my parents. When Darius talked about investments, Alistair listened intently; when Genevieve fussed over the distribution of assets, he patiently explained every financial arrangement. The night before our wedding, he stayed up talking with my father, holding firm on only one point: "Our marriage will not be subject to anyone's interference."

So when he dropped to one knee, I didn't hesitate.

"Marry me, Elara."

With the ambient light falling on his shoulders, I suddenly realized I had long since fallen in love with this scarred, broken man.

We got married at City Hall. When Flavia heard the groom was the mild-mannered professor, she was speechless for a good minute.

"I always thought you’d end up with someone as dominant as you are," she said.

"We complement each other perfectly," I replied.

After I got pregnant, he started staying late at Thornbury University more often, the excuse always being that work was piling up. Around that same time, a new name started creeping into his conversations.

"Liora is incredibly gifted, and she has such a bright personality."

Later, he mentioned that Liora had raved about one of my desserts. From then on, he would casually coax me into baking all sorts of pastries to bring to campus.

I was put on bed rest due to a threatened miscarriage, yet I spent every day prepping, baking, and packing an endless variety of food. At first, I saw it as a husband depending on his wife. But when he casually muttered one day, "Liora wants to try your cheese tarts," all the scattered details suddenly aligned: these treats were never meant for him.

I drove out to the university.

The door to his office was unlocked. A slice of the Basque cheesecake I had baked that morning sat on his desk, half-eaten. Liora, wearing a low-cut camisole, sat on the edge of the desk. Her legs practically trapped Alistair in his chair.

She scooped up a bit of whipped cream with her fingertip, smeared it on the side of his neck, and trailed it slowly down to his Adam's apple. Alistair tilted his head back, making no move to pull away. She leaned in and licked the cream off, her blonde hair brushing against his unbuttoned collar. She murmured intimately, "Ali."

I walked in and swiped the cheesecake off the desk onto the floor.

Alistair jumped up instantly. "Elara, it’s not what you think—"

I slapped him hard across the face, grabbed the tie that was usually knotted so perfectly, and yanked him toward me.

"Then tell me," I said, staring at the wet, shiny trail on his neck. "What exactly are you and your student doing?"