Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
Time marched on, and with every step he took, the harder his heart thudded against chest. As the distance between them continued to shrink, the emptiness inside of him gnawed more violently at the professor.
And then it happened.
Without any fucking warning.
It just fucking happened.
Her gaze finding him, and even without their eyes meeting, he knew.
She was hurting.
Badly.
So much so that her pain made it all the way to him, its scarred edges burying deep into the center of his old and damaged soul.
I'm sorry.
I'm so fucking sorry.
I'm so god damned sorry.
In the corner of his eye, he saw her companion turn to face him. The man was too damn handsome for Matthijs' peace of mind, and he might have even hated him on the spot if he hadn't noticed the clothes Diana's companion wore.
A man of God, the professor thought broodingly, and more likely a deacon or one that had yet to be ordained, given his age.
Either way, the irony wasn't lost on him. Of all the times they could meet accidentally, it had to be now, when she was with one of the Lord's trusted servants...and he was with his mistress.
The professor and Laverne finally made it to their table, and the next few minutes were a blur, with him acting entirely on autopilot while his mind was desperately doing its best to shove out his last image of Diana.
Pale face.
Trembling form.
And eyes that hurt (so much goddamn hurt) but did not hate.
What must I do to make you throw me away, mijn obsessie?
It was a question he thought he wished to know the answer to, but by the time he realized the truth, it was already too late.
Dinner was the usual affair, with the professor managing to keep Laverne suitably occupied that she didn't notice the way his gaze would occasionally stray, almost as if her presence alone was a magnet for his attention.
A call from work came just as the staff came to clear their plates away for dessert, and the professor had to excuse himself from the table. After stepping out in one of the restaurant's balconies, he took the call and the resulting conversation was brief but productive. The person on the other end of the line, a representative of a pontifical university in Spain, had asked if the professor could make time and give their students a talk on Summa Theologica. To which he had immediately said yes, because the farther he was from her, the less likely he was to do something stupid.
Such as asking her for another chance.
That was the plan at least, but when the professor pocketed his phone and left the balcony, he only had to turn back to the main dining hall to realize that "something stupid" was already there, just patiently waiting to happen.
Diana.
And almost as if she had heard him, he saw her flinch, and he had to clench his fists to keep himself from reaching out to her.
"Hello, P-professor."
"Ms. Leventis." His voice was curt, his face expressionless, his whole fucking body a rigid form of tension. It was the only way to survive seeing her and still do the right thing, and after giving her a clipped nod, he forced himself to walk past her.
"Professor?"
He kept walking.
"Is she your...girlfriend?"
He froze.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
But because he couldn't make himself pretend he hadn't heard the way her voice broke - he just fucking couldn't - he found himself stiffly turning around, and pain nearly crushed his chest when he saw her eyes.
So much hurt. He had hurt her so much. And yet there was still no anger.
"Is she, Professor?" Diana whispered.
"No." And he found himself unable to lie. "Laverne's...my mistress."
Her lips parted, and though no sound came, it didn't matter. He could hear her just fine, and her cry of pain and betrayal cut his heart into pieces.
Let it end there, mijn obsessie.
Let it fucking end there and save yourself from more hurt.
But it didn't.
Because God always answered His people's prayers.
What must I do to make you throw me away, mijn obsessie?
And he heard Diana ask, "Since when?"
No. Fuck. No.
LIE. DAMN YOU, LIE.
You didn't mean to betray her.
SO LIE. FUCKING LIE FOR HER SAKE.
And then he saw her already crying, and he realized it was too late.
She already had her answer.
Even without him saying a word, she already knew.
"I'm sorry." His voice was uneven. "I'm—-"
"Since when?" And this time her pain was no longer silent or unseen, her body shaking, her tears falling faster, and her voice tremulous and whisper-thin.
He gazed at her bleakly. "For six years now."
Her
In My Life by Bette Midler
THE PROFESSOR SOUNDED frantic in his texts.
I'm outside your dorm. I need to see you. Please. I don't want you hurting like this.
Let me talk to you. Please.
But Diana couldn't make herself believe him.
Please, my darling. Let me talk to you. Just three words. That's all I'm asking you to let me say.