Truly, Madly, Deeply

by Marian Tee

  Not waiting for an answer, the professor went straight back to addressing the rest of the class, leaving the other students to follow suit, albeit reluctantly and with not a small amount of confusion. From what they knew of T-PILF, he was not the type to let go of such infractions lightly. Perhaps the professor was in an unusually good mood today?

  The students had their answer to this a minute later, with the professor dropping a bombshell of an announcement on them. They were to propose a novel therapy for the prevention and/or treatment of suicide - keeping in mind their target demographic - and joy of joys, they had fifteen minutes to work on this.

  Clearly, if the professor had any kind of mood today, then it was the sadistic type, and more than a handful seemed to blame her for this. They threw dirty looks in her direction, and Pepper, unsurprisingly, was the worst of the lot. "Great going, idiot," the redhead sniped under her breath. "If you hadn't pissed the professor off, we wouldn't find ourselves in this shithole."

  Diana was taken aback at the venom in the other girl's voice. "I didn't mean..." But there was no point continuing, with Pepper having already turned her back on Diana in an intentional snub.

  A sandy-haired TA named Bernie came in a short while later, distributing reading materials they were given permission to use for related literature.

  This form of extra service seemed more fitting for a university chancellor, and Diana's brows furrowed as she absently thought of the other little things that made the professor's tenure exceptionally well-compensated. His office was spacious and luxuriously decorated, and he even had his own secretary. Wasn't that unheard of for someone who only taught a single class?

  The whole thing smacked of mystery and intrigue, but because it was also a distraction she could ill afford, Diana managed to set this aside and try once more to concentrate on the problem at hand.

  Let's do this, Di.

  But time continued to tick past, and Diana's nerves started to fray again when her mind remained a blank. By the time all fifteen minutes were up, her anxiety had hit the panic button, and she was a trembling, paranoid mess in her seat.

  It's just going to get worse from here.

  An admittedly fatalistic thought, but she couldn't help feeling increasingly jittery when the professor reached for his clipboard. The class was supposed to share their proposals one at a time, and as soon as the professor finished speaking, Pepper quickly raised her hand, volunteering to be first.

  "Very well," the professor murmured.

  Seeing the redhead make another hair flip, Diana tried her hardest not to wish for the other girl's proposal to go horribly, and sadly enough it didn't.

  "It seems to me that the problem of these millennials---"

  Brows shot up at the reference, with many wondering if Pepper had perhaps forgotten she, by virtue of her age alone, was also one of the so-called millennials.

  "It's that they've forgotten how the Church still perceives suicide as one of the mortal sins. People must be reminded of this crucial fact as well as eternal damnation being its inevitable consequence."

  The whole class seemed to wait in bated breath for the professor's reaction, and when he finally spoke, it was exactly what Diana had dreaded expected.

  "While I would caution you against further limiting your scope than what's required---" The professor's lips curved ever so faintly. "Your approach is commendably novel, and since that's what this class is designed for - well done again, Ms. Lowell."

  Breaths were expelled when the curve of his lips remained, the sight transforming the professor's cruel beauty into one of slightly more approachable but no less appealing proportions.

  If she didn't think it so daft, she could've even sworn that the professor's smile had the hearts of every girl in the room skipping a beat. It was that split second of tingling silence following a stolen glimpse of perfection, and the more she thought about this, the more she became convinced of a reality that should've been glaringly obvious from the start.

  Every girl in this room wanted him, too.

  A second student was called, but Diana's attempt to listen to her proposal was futile, her mind and heart both distracted by the strange, stifling sensation gripping her chest. It took her several moments to recognize what the feeling was, and a few more to accept it was real.

  She had always been an easily contented person, never having felt the need to covet what another person had. She had readily accepted she would never be as interesting or vivacious as other girls, had never thought to ask God when it would be her turn to fall or why she couldn't even have a mother's love.

  She had never felt jealous before until---

  "Ms. Leventis?"

  Diana started in her seat, and when she lifted her head, it was to find everyone staring at her. Again. And by the looks of it, this wasn't the first time the professor had called her name.

  Oh, Saint M, pray for me.

  "If it is not too much to ask," the professor asked in a glacial voice, "would you care to put your daydreams on pause for the rest of the class?"

  Diana felt her eyes sting in mortification and fought hard to keep her composure. "I...I..."

  "Save us from unnecessary explanations, any of which I highly doubt will be the truth." When she didn't speak, the professor dealt her an impatient glance, asking irritably, "Well? Your proposal then?"

  Oh!

  Since she had nothing written on her proposal sheet, Diana could only blurt out the first half-baked idea that came to her mind. "I was thinking, umm, since depression is one of the leading causes of suicide, then perhaps we could use faith to cure depression---"

  The professor's lip curled. "I've heard enough."

  He had?

  "And I think you're better off dropping my subject."

  Diana found herself clutching the edge of her desk as shock reverberated in the entire class in palpable silence.

  Cut your losses and go.

  It was the voice of reason again, but try as she might, she couldn't make herself listen to it.

  "I s-sincerely believe in what I'm saying, professor."

  "Good for you, but that's not why I'm asking you to drop the subject."

  "What I'm saying makes sense---"

  "If I only wanted my students to make sense," the professor snapped, "then I should've opted to teach in kindergarten, do you think?" The words were intended to hurt, and hurt it did. The girl was now trembling and visibly fighting back tears, but just as before, the sight of her distress did not bring him any amount of gratification.

  Damn her. Damn her. Goddamn her for forcing him to make her bleed, and because this had to be the last time, he knew he couldn't leave it this way. He had to see it to the end, no matter what.

  When she started to sit, he saw his opportunity and seized it mercilessly, saying sharply, "I'm not finished."

  The girl flinched, and so did most of the class. That he was a pitiless bastard was a widely-known fact, but couldn't the professor see he was already beating a dead animal in this instance?

  "Remind me what this subject is, Ms. Leventis."

  His words were like a noose tightening around her throat, and while she didn't know how or when it would happen, the one thing she was certain of was that this was the beginning of the end.

  "Ms. Leventis?"

  "Novel Therapy---"

  "Finally," the professor mocked. "A correct answer." It had a few students laughing, causing the girl to flush, but he forced himself to get past this. "Do you think you could properly define this as well?"

  "It c-can be any method or technology that could be considered breakthrough or radical---"

  "In other words," the professor murmured silkily, "it could also be the first of its kind."

  "Yes---"

  "That being said, do you genuinely believe you're the first person who thought curing depression with faith would help prevent suicide?"

  He saw her jerk, saw the first tear fall, and he knew it should be enough.

&nb
sp; "Because if you do, then you're an even bigger idiot than I gave you credit for."

  But instead he found himself pushing the knife deeper.

  I'm sorry, but there's no other fucking way.

  Diana could feel everyone staring at her. She knew she should at least say something, but the humiliating flow of her tears had robbed her of the ability to speak. All she could do was remember how this man destroying her was also the same man she had willingly taken her clothes off for, and this truth...it broke her, to the point that for one second she found herself tempted - oh, how she was so shamefully tempted - to be the subject of her own study and surrender herself to oblivion.

  But eventually the feeling passed, a hitherto hidden core of strength ultimately prevailing, and Diana's fingers slowly loosened its deathlike grip on the desk.

  Dark eyes that neither hated nor judged met eyes that burned an inscrutable shade of gold.

  He didn't have to hurt her this way, but he had.

  He could have done this differently, but he hadn't.

  This, finally, was the end.

  Not inevitable, but not salvageable either.

  It was the ending he chose, the ending he wanted, and she was just so tired now that she let it be.

  Goodbye, Professor.

  Him

  The professor couldn't remember feeling this empty before.

  He knew this was saying a lot, considering his past. He knew, but there was no doubting the gaping blackness threatening to swallow him whole, and the truth made him feel volatile and unstable.

  Damn her. Damn her. God damn her.

  Sixty-five minutes had passed since his class ended, sixty-seven since she asked to be excused and he had been forced to watch her walk out of the room, the sight of her tearstained face making most of the other students look away.

  He had promised everyone civility, but confronted with the strength of his obsession, he had fucking lost it instead. In the eight years he had been teaching, not fucking once had he gone back on his word. But with her, he hadn't just fucking failed her as a student. He had fucking failed her in every damn way.

  And if he didn't do something now, he knew it would be as he planned.

  It would be over, and he would lose her for good.

  It would be over, and one day she would forget.

  One day, she would find someone else---

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He was on his feet before he even knew what he was doing, was already standing tensely in front of his confused-looking secretary as he heard himself say, "I need you to get a hold of Ms. Leventis."

  "Of c-course, sir. What time shall I schedule---"

  "As early as you can manage. I don't give a damn what excuse you give her. Just get her in my office as soon as you can."

  "As you wish, sir."

  He grimaced at the look she gave him, which told him his secretary already had a fairly good idea of how much he had screwed things up. "I'm sure you've seen this coming."

  "I'm afraid I did, but I also have every confidence in your ability to turn things around." A pause, and then she said gently, "You're a good man, Professor, and I'm certain she knows this, too." She saw his lips twist and asserted firmly, "You are, sir. You always do the right thing eventually, and I have no doubt it shall be as well with Ms. Leventis."

  Her faith in him was touching, but because life had long made him a cynic, a part of him believed that his secretary's good opinion also had much to do with how well he compensated her.

  Didn't matter either way, the professor thought edgily. All he cared now was that she proved to be as efficient as she always was, and twenty-five minutes later, Mrs. Montez delivered on her promise.

  She knocked on his door once before opening it, saying simply, "Ms. Leventis is here." The older woman pushed the door open and stepped back.

  Doe eyes met his, and the professor sucked in his breath.

  Mijn obsessie.

  Together

  The professor spoke as soon as the door closed behind his secretary.

  "I'm sorry."

  Two words, just two words, and the walls Diana had foolishly thought were impenetrable crumbled in an instant. She wasn't even given a chance to fight back. Just two words, and it was all over, the tears falling, her promise to never be a fool over him crumbling into ashes.

  She saw him stiffen. Heard him curse. Felt him coming.

  And then he was there, standing just a whisper away. Tall, strong, and proud, but at the same time, a humbled, somber figure, the harsh regret in his leonine gaze reflected in the grave edges of his face.

  The tiniest (sensible) part of her wished she could make herself hate him. But she couldn't. Maybe it was her genetic makeup at fault (she truly hoped it was), but Diana simply couldn't find it to be mad with him, and when he spoke again---

  "I'm sorry, Diana."

  She could only cry harder, body shaking, throat tightening to the point of pain. The raw agony in his voice was unbearable, but it was hearing him say her name the very first time that ended her.

  I'm done for, Saint M.

  She was his to fool, his to possess. She was...his.

  Matthijs slowly drew her into his arms, and it was like finding his way home when he felt her cheek press against his chest. But her tears still fell, wetting his shirt, and his arms tightened around her.

  "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I never wanted...I'd never want to hurt you---"

  "Then why did you?"

  He heard the fragile catch in her voice, and his chest threatened to cave in under the weight of his self-contempt. Lips brushing against the silken crown of her head, he whispered, "You know why, my darling."

  The endearment made Diana press closer, and feeling his lips brush against her hair once again was a painfully sweet pleasure.

  Please God. Please let this last.

  "You're the first...the only one I've ever liked this way."

  "It's no different for me." His voice turned rough.

  Diana wished she could believe him. But she couldn't. And even worse, she realized that she no longer cared. Now that she was in his arms, it was no longer possible to hide from the truth, no longer possible to pretend that she would do everything just to keep him in her life.

  She slowly pulled away, and his arms gradually slackened its hold. She slowly looked up, heart in her throat. "If I promise..." She swallowed hard. "If I p-promise to never make you choose between me and your career...if I promise never to say or do anything that might cost you your job..."

  Matthijs couldn't bear the tremulous plea in her voice.

  God.

  That he was making her of all people beg...

  It just showed how little she knew him, just showed how little she understood the strength of his desire for her, that she would think some university policy was enough to keep him away.

  "Diana---"

  Terrified he was about to say goodbye and even more terrified how that would completely break her, she found herself clutching his shirt, found herself crying and begging, her pride completely forgotten.

  "I'm not asking you to marry me. We don't even have to date if that's too much of a risk. But just please...please..." Diana's voice cracked. "Could you please just promise you won't push me away again?"

  Her

  Diana woke up the next day wanting to pinch herself.

  But she managed not to, reminding herself that to do so was an indirect admission of doubt.

  You will keep in perfect peace

  those whose minds are steadfast,

  because they trust in You.

  Isaiah 26:3

  Diana quoted to herself, and if she wanted God's backing, she would do well not to forget that to doubt in any way was to doubt Him in every way.

  Rosy memories replayed in her mind as she stepped inside the shower, and she found herself humming rather dreamily, her movements languid as she soaped and rinsed her body.

  The professor had promised to stay. Had even sai
d he would stay for as long as she wanted him. How could she not be in a good mood, with such beautiful memories playing over and over in her mind?

  The sound of her room phone ringing insistently when Diana came out of the shower had her gasping and rushing to answer it. She had been so engrossed fantasizing about what today would bring that she had completely forgotten her weekly morning call with her family.

  Diana pressed the button that would allow the phone to switch to video call, and the wall-mounted plasma display immediately lit up. A beaming cherubic face filled the screen, eyes sparkling in excitement. "Theia Diana!"

  Diana beamed back. "Hello, Nala."

  "Papa and Mama are here, too," her niece declared, moving back to reveal the attractive-looking couple seated on the couch behind her.

  Diana waved hi. "Hey guys."

  "It normally doesn't take you that long to answer our call," her overprotective billionaire brother pointed out gruffly. "Is something wrong?"

  "I just came out of the shower, sorry."

  "And that's it?" Damen's tone was skeptical.

  She crossed her fingers behind her back, saying, "That's it. Honest."

  Damen didn't look convinced. "You know I can send the jet for you anytime, ne? No questions asked---"

  His wife's groan cut her off. "Seriously, Damen, ease up. You can see for yourself Diana's perfectly fine." But not a second had passed when Mairi slanted a faintly worried glance at her sister-in-law, saying uneasily, "I mean, you are. Right?"

  Diana giggled, thinking it was so like Mairi to act first and think later. "I'm perfectly fine, yes."

  The brunette sighed in relief. "Oh thank God. Damen would kill me otherwise."

  It was the Leventis siblings' turn to roll their eyes. Who did she think she was kidding? Mairi had her husband wrapped around her little finger, and the whole world knew it, thanks to a certain New York Times bestseller that served as Damen's love letter to his beloved wife.