The Professor's Mate Clause

FREYA'S POV

"Right there, yes, just like that."

I froze in the doorway.

The woman's voice was breathy and high pitched. She was on my bed. Her dark hair was spread across my pillow like she owned it. The red dress I did not recognize was pooled on the floor next to heels that probably cost more than my rent. Her lipstick was smeared across her mouth and down her neck.

Kelvin was on top of her.

His hands were in her hair. His mouth was on her throat. The sheets I had washed three days ago were tangled around their legs.

He looked up.

Our eyes met.

He did not stop. Did not scramble away. Did not even look surprised. He just stared at me for a long second before slowly pulling back and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"Freya." His voice was flat. Calm. Like I had just walked in on him watching television instead of screwing another woman in our bed.

The woman turned her head to look at me. She did not cover herself. Did not grab for clothes. She just propped herself up on one elbow and watched me with lazy brown eyes.

"You should have called," Kelvin said.

My brain could not process the words. Could not make sense of what he just said. I stood there with my keys still in my hand and my work bag still on my shoulder.

"Called?" The word came out quiet.

"Yeah. You usually work late on Thursdays."

The woman laughed. The sound made my skin crawl.

"Are you serious right now?" My voice was steadier than my hands. My hands were shaking so badly I had to shove them in my pockets.

Kelvin stood up and grabbed his boxers from the floor. He pulled them on without any hurry. Without any shame. "Look, Freya. We need to talk."

"You think?"

He ran a hand through his messy hair. The same hair I used to run my fingers through when we watched movies on this couch. The same hair I had washed when he was too drunk to stand up straight last month. Now I wanted to rip it out of his skull.

"This was going to happen eventually," he said. "You and me. We were not working out."

The floor felt unsteady under my feet. "So you decided to fix it by bringing someone else into our bed?"

"I am getting married."

The words did not make sense. I heard them but they felt like they were in a different language. "What?"

"Next Saturday. I am getting married."

The woman sat up straighter. She looked at Kelvin with wide eyes. "You did not tell her yet?"

"I was going to," he snapped at her without looking away from me.

My chest was tight. Too tight. Like someone was squeezing all the air out of my lungs. "Married to who?"

"Vanessa. Our families arranged it."

"Arranged." I said the word slowly. Testing it. Trying to make it make sense. "People do not arrange marriages anymore."

"My family does. It has been planned for a while."

"How long is a while?"

He shrugged. Actually shrugged. "Few months."

Few months. He had known for months that he was getting married and said nothing. He kept sleeping next to me. Kept asking me to cover his half of the rent when he was short on cash. Kept making plans for next semester like we had a future.

Something cracked inside my chest. Not broke. Not yet. Just cracked enough to let the anger start seeping through.

"Get out."

Kelvin blinked. "What?"

"Get out of my apartment." My voice was quiet but sharp. "Both of you."

He laughed. It was not a real laugh. It was the sound he made when he thought I was being ridiculous. "Your apartment? I pay half the rent, Freya."

"Not anymore. You have ten minutes to get dressed and leave before I call the cops."

"And tell them what? I did not break any laws."

"Then I will throw every single piece of your stuff out the window. You can pick it up off the street. Your choice."

The woman finally moved. She slid off the bed and started grabbing her clothes from the floor. She would not look at me while she dressed. Her hands were shaking just a little.

Good.

Kelvin watched her for a second before turning back to me. "You are overreacting."

"And you just told me you are marrying someone else in six days after I caught you in bed with a third person. Get out before I do something we both regret."

He stared at me. His jaw was tight. His eyes were hard. This was the look he got when he did not get his way. When his team lost a game. When his friends canceled plans. When things did not go exactly how he wanted.

I stared back and did not blink.

He grabbed his jeans from the chair by the window and yanked them on. The woman was already dressed. She stood by the bedroom door with her arms crossed over her chest like she was cold.

"This is not over," Kelvin said as he pushed past me into the hallway.

"Yes it is."

He stopped at the front door and turned around. His face was red now. Angry. "I will come back tomorrow for my stuff."

"I will leave it in the hallway."

"Freya, come on…"

"Get out."

The woman slipped past me and hurried to the door. Kelvin gave me one last look before following her out. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame.

I stood in the bedroom doorway and looked at the mess. The sheets were half on the floor. Her perfume was everywhere. Sweet and thick and wrong. The whole room smelled like her.

I walked to the bed and stripped the sheets off in one pull. Threw them on the floor. Grabbed the pillows and threw those too. I wanted to burn everything. Wanted to scrub the whole apartment down until there was no trace of him left.

But I just stood there in the middle of the room with my chest still too tight and my hands still shaking.

I waited to cry.

Nothing came.

I felt hollow instead. Empty. Like someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that mattered and left me with nothing but air and anger.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A text from my boss at the diner.

Can you cover Amy's shift tomorrow morning? 6am start.

I typed back yes. I always said yes. I needed the money. I always needed the money. Kelvin said he paid half the rent but that was only when he remembered. I covered the rest. Covered groceries. Covered utilities when he spent his paycheck on drinks with his friends.

Now I would cover everything alone.

I looked around the apartment. Small. Cramped. The paint was peeling in the corner by the window. The heater only worked when it felt like it. The bathroom door did not close all the way. But it was mine. I had worked for every piece of furniture. Had survived here through two jobs and full time classes.

I would survive this too.

My phone buzzed again. Clara this time.

Movie night? I have wine and that cheese you like.

I almost said no. I wanted to be alone. Wanted to sit in the empty apartment and feel nothing until the hollow feeling went away.

But I typed back yes because being alone suddenly felt worse than pretending to be fine.

Clara lived two blocks over in a building nicer than mine. I grabbed my jacket and locked the door behind me. The hallway smelled like someone was cooking curry. My stomach growled. I had not eaten since the stale bagel I grabbed between classes this morning.

I would eat at Clara's. She always had food.

The walk took less than five minutes. October in the city meant wind that cut through thin jackets and made everything feel sharper. I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets.

I did not cry on the way. Did not scream. Did not do anything except walk and breathe and try not to think about Kelvin getting married in six days to someone whose name I just learned today.

Clara opened the door before I knocked. She took one look at my face and pulled me inside without a word. Her apartment was warm. She kept it warm all the time because she said cold made her anxious.

"What happened?" She guided me to the couch and pushed me down onto the cushions.

"Kelvin."

She disappeared into the kitchen. "What did that asshole do now?"

"He is getting married."

The sound of glass breaking came from the kitchen. Clara appeared in the doorway with wide eyes. "He is what?"

"Getting married. Next Saturday. His family arranged it. He told me this after I walked in on him with another girl in our bed."

Clara's face went pale then red then pale again. She walked back into the kitchen and came back with two wine glasses and a bottle. She did not bother getting a corkscrew. She just twisted the cap off and poured both glasses full.

"Start from the beginning." She handed me a glass and sat down next to me.

I told her everything. The unlocked door. The woman's voice. Walking into the bedroom. The red dress on the floor. Kelvin's flat voice. The way he looked at me like I was the one interrupting something important. The marriage announcement.

Clara did not interrupt. She drank her wine and listened and her jaw got tighter with every word.

"I am going to kill him," she said when I finished.

"Get in line."

She poured herself another glass. Her hand was shaking. "What are you going to do?"

"Pay rent alone I guess. Work more shifts. Maybe pick up weekend hours at the campus library." I took a long drink. The wine was cheap and bitter. "Avoid him when he comes for his stuff."

"You should go to the wedding."

I stared at her. "Why would I do that?"

"To show him he did not break you. That you are fine without him."

"But I am not fine."

"Then fake it." She leaned forward. Her eyes were bright. Intense. "Show up looking incredible with someone who makes Kelvin regret every choice he ever made."

"I do not have anyone like that."

"Then find someone."

"In six days? Clara, be realistic."

She was quiet for a moment. She stared at her wine glass like she was thinking hard about something. "What about Professor Metcalfe?"

I choked on my wine. "What?"

"You said he has been staring at you in class lately. Maybe he would help."

"He is my professor. That is completely insane."

"Is it though?" She set her glass down. "Kelvin's dad is on the university board right? What if Metcalfe knows him? What if he has his own reasons for wanting to mess with Kelvin's family?"

"Why would he?"

"I do not know. But you said Metcalfe watches you. That he called on you three times last week even though you did not raise your hand. Maybe he would be interested."

My head was starting to hurt. The wine was hitting too fast on an empty stomach. "I need to go home."

"Stay here tonight."

"I have work at six in the morning."

"Then let me walk you back."

"I am fine."

But I was not fine. I was so far from fine I could not even see it anymore. I just did not want Clara to watch me fall apart.

I left her apartment and walked back through the cold streets. The wind was worse now. It cut through my jacket and made my eyes water. The curry smell was gone. Now everything just smelled like car exhaust and rain that was threatening to fall.

When I got back to my building I saw something that made me stop.

There was a white envelope taped to my door.

My name was written on the front in handwriting I did not recognize. Neat. Precise. The letters were perfectly formed like someone had taken their time.

I pulled it off and opened it with shaking fingers.

Inside was a single card. Heavy paper. Expensive. The university logo was embossed at the top in gold. Below it was a handwritten message in the same neat script.

Miss Reed,

Please see me in my office tomorrow at 2pm. It is regarding a matter of importance.

Professor A. Metcalfe

The card slipped from my fingers.

How did he know where I lived?