Chapter Thirty Two

Prof. Montgomery's POV

Thursday;

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the parking lot as I approached Carol's car. The lot was mostly empty, the only sounds being distant chatter and the crunch of gravel beneath my heels. My gaze focused on her—she was leaning against the driver's door, her arms crossed, brows knitted tightly in frustration. The tension in the air was palpable even before I reached her.

"Are you still mad at me?" I asked, stopping a few feet in front of her, my voice calm despite the growing sense of dread settling in my chest.

Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as they met mine. "What do you think?" she spat, her voice dripping with anger. She ran a hand through her hair in a gesture I knew all too well—Carol was upset, and it wasn't going to be an easy conversation. "Johanna, we've been dating for three years," she continued, her voice cracking slightly, "and I want to start thinking about a future together."

I sighed, rolling my eyes, though deep down, I knew this was serious. It always had been for Carol. "Carol, let's be for real," I said, my voice edged with impatience. "That's probably not going to happen."

She pushed herself off the car, her eyes burning with frustration. Without saying anything, she began pacing back and forth in front of me, her shoes scraping against the pavement. I could see the gears in her mind turning, the silent calculations she always made when she was hurt but trying to figure out her next move. Her face was a storm of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion, and something else, something softer that made me feel the tiniest twinge of guilt.

"Do you even understand what you're saying?" she finally spoke, her voice rising with each word. "We've been together for three years, Johanna. Three years! And you still talk like this is just... nothing to you. Like I'm nothing to you." Her voice wavered at the end.

Carol's face twisted with rage, her eyes narrowing as she glared at me. The sun had begun to dip lower, the parking lot cast in the golden light of late afternoon, but there was nothing warm about the moment. "You were the love of my life, but you ruined our relationship." My words hung between us like a dark cloud, and I could see the impact they had, each one a knife that dug deeper.

She clenched her jaw, her body visibly trembling. "The love of your life?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "You sure have a funny way of showing it." She jabbed a finger into my chest again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How is this my fault, Johanna?" she hissed.

I crossed my arms, feeling the cold metal of her car behind me. "You cheated on me, Carol. Not once, but twice," I said, my voice steady but edged with a sharpness I couldn't hide. "And you want me to just forgive and forget like nothing happened?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she threw her hands up in frustration. "You don't understand! It's your fault!" she shouted, stepping even closer, her face inches from mine. "You pushed me away! You never wanted the things I wanted! I wanted a family, Johanna! I wanted to start a life with you, but you—" She cut herself off, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to compose herself.

I could feel the heat of her anger, her frustration radiating off of her. My own patience was running thin, the thread holding it together frayed and ready to snap. "I've told you from the beginning, Carol," I said, my voice low, my gaze never leaving hers. "I don't want kids. I never have, and I never will. You knew that when you started this relationship with me. You knew who I was."

"You're impossible," she said, her voice breaking as she blinked back her tears. She stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why are you even still with me, then?" Her voice was raw, each word coated in pain.

I shrugged, my face expressionless. "Because my mother's heart wouldn't handle it if she found out I broke up with the only person she actually adores," I replied.

The moment the words left my lips, I could see the devastation in Carol's eyes. Her face crumpled, her eyes widening in shock and hurt. "So that's it?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're only with me for your mother's sake? Not because you actually love me?"

I clenched my jaw, unable to look at her. The truth was, I did love her. Once, I loved her more than anything. But that love had been twisted, broken by the lies, the betrayals, the constant arguments that left both of us exhausted and empty. I didn't know if I could ever feel that way about her again.

Carol's eyes burned with fury as she moved to jab her finger into my chest once more, but this time I caught her wrist before she could make contact. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, trembling with anger, and she jerked her arm away from my grip. Before she could retreat further, I reached out and captured both of her hands, holding them gently but firmly.

"Can we talk about this at your place?" I asked, my voice softer now, a note of vulnerability breaking through. I searched her eyes, trying to find a spark of the Carol I used to know—the one who used to laugh with me, who held me like I was the most important person in the world. "You know I've always tried to fix this relationship when it started going into shambles," I added, my gaze locked on hers.

She hesitated, her lips parting as if she was ready to unleash another tirade, but then she paused. Her brows knitted together, the fire in her eyes slowly dimming as she studied my face. After what felt like an eternity, she closed her mouth and gave a reluctant nod.

I offered her a small smile, a glimmer of hope, and slowly leaned in. My lips met hers in a soft, tentative kiss. I could feel her tension begin to melt, her body relaxing into mine as she kissed me back, though the sadness still lingered between us.

After a few seconds, Carol pulled away, her breath shaky. Her gaze softened as she raised a hand, resting it against my cheek. Her fingers brushed lightly over my skin, her touch achingly gentle.

She let her hand fall, taking a step back as if putting distance between us would make everything easier. Without another word, she opened her car door and slipped inside. I watched her as she started the engine, her face cast in shadows, and then she looked up at me one last time before driving away.

My heart was pounding, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. I knew it was wrong—staying in this relationship with Carol even after she cheated on me not once, but twice. The betrayal cut deep, yet somehow, I still couldn't bring myself to end it. It wasn't just about me anymore. It was about my mother too.

My mother absolutely adored Carol. To her, Carol was the perfect match for her only daughter—supportive, charming, and seemingly flawless. But that admiration was built on lies, carefully maintained by my silence. I never told her about the cheating. I couldn't. My mother had a weak heart, both figuratively and literally. The stress, the disappointment—it could be too much for her to handle. I could almost see her, the hope draining from her eyes if she found out that everything she thought was perfect had been a facade.

I knew how fragile she was, always caring too much, always putting my happiness above her own. I couldn't bear the thought of her worrying over me, of her frail heart breaking over the thought of her daughter being alone. So I chose to endure, for her sake. I stayed in a relationship that was long past saving, simply because I was too scared of what ending it might do to the one person who loved me more than anything in the world.

With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of my own cowardice pressing down on me. The parking lot seemed to grow quieter, the distant hum of the city fading into the background. I knew what I should do—I knew that staying with Carol was a lie, one that hurt both of us in different ways. But the thought of breaking my mother's heart kept me frozen, trapped in this cycle of pretense and regret.

My mind drifted to Valentina—sweet, kind-hearted Valentina. She had a softness about her, an innocence that I couldn't quite ignore. Even after everything, she still tried so hard to be nice to me, despite the rude, cutting remarks I'd thrown her way. She had a resilience that was disarming, a warmth that somehow managed to seep through the cracks of the walls I had so carefully built around myself.

I hated to admit it, but she had broken through my defenses. It wasn't supposed to happen—I was supposed to be untouchable, emotionally detached, especially after everything with Carol. And yet, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I actually felt something for someone else. Something that went beyond just fleeting attraction. But was it real? Or was it only because my relationship with Carol was hanging on by a thread, on the verge of collapsing completely?

Valentina's laughter, her stubbornness, her ability to forgive even when she shouldn't—those things had started to matter to me. I found myself wanting to protect her from the mess that was my life, wanting to spare her from the darkness that came with my relationship drama.

But I needed to think about this, to step back and consider what I really wanted. Was it fair to let myself be drawn to Valentina while still tangled up with Carol? Was it right to keep two people on a string while I figured myself out?

The decision loomed over me, demanding an answer. I couldn't keep living in the in-between, holding onto a relationship that was already broken while longing for something that was just beginning to grow. I needed to decide—whether to finally let go of Carol, to let go of the guilt and expectations, or to pull away from Valentina before she got hurt in the crossfire.

I took a deep breath, staring out at the horizon as the sun began to dip lower, painting the sky with colors of dusk. The answer wouldn't come easily, but it was time to face it, whatever it might be.