Chapter Forty Seven

Tuesday;

Today feels like a good day; I can sense it deep down, like an energy buzzing through my bones. I woke up feeling light, refreshed, as if I'd shed a weight. The morning sun poured through my window, casting a golden glow over everything, while a soft breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass.

I made my way across campus towards Montgomery's office, even though I wasn't exactly eager to dive into my TA duties. Yesterday morning, she'd sent an email letting me know I didn't need to come by at all that day, since she had nothing for me to do. Part of me was relieved, but another part would've preferred if she'd sent the email today, giving me the day completely free to enjoy. But, you don't always get what you want.

Her office door was slightly ajar when I arrived, so I raised my knuckles and knocked softly, pausing just a moment before stepping inside. The room was quiet, and there, across the space, Montgomery stood with her back to me, bent over her desk, shuffling through a pile of papers. My gaze fell, almost instinctively, tracing the curve of her figure in those jeans. And wow—her jeans fit perfectly, hugging her in all the right ways, emphasizing a strength and elegance that was hard to look away from.

Without even turning around, she said, "Stop staring at my ass," her tone a mix of reprimand and teasing, a slight smirk audible in her voice. Caught off guard, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, and for a moment, I couldn't find the words to respond.

How on earth did she know I was staring at her without even turning around? I cleared my throat awkwardly, the warmth still lingering on my cheeks, and shuffled over to my chair. She straightened up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and turned to me, a faint, almost knowing smile playing on her lips.

"How're you?" she asked, her voice softer than her usual tone, as she moved around her desk to take her seat.

I opened my mouth to respond, but something else caught my eye—a sleek, black mini fridge nestled against the wall behind her desk, almost camouflaged in the shadowed corner. My eyes widened in surprise.

"Is that a mini fridge?" I blurted out, ignoring her question completely.

A flicker of irritation flashed across her face before she replaced it with an exaggerated smile. "Oh, you're doing well? That's fantastic!" she replied with heavy sarcasm, fluttering her lashes dramatically. "And me? Oh, I'm absolutely wonderful, thank you so much for asking."

I bit back a grin, pursing my lips in mock seriousness. "So...is it?"

She looked over her shoulder at the fridge, then turned back to me with a deadpan expression. "No," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, "it's a portable toilet."

I chuckled as she threw her hands up in exaggerated disbelief. "Of course it's a damn fridge," she muttered, her eyes narrowing in feigned exasperation. I grinned sheepishly, fully aware that I'd earned her biting reply for asking such an obvious question.

Montgomery dropped a stack of quizzes on my side of the desk with a thud, her fingers barely brushing the top page before motioning toward them. I sighed softly, resigned, and dragged the pile closer, my fingers reaching for a red pen from the holder on her desk. The endless sea of student handwriting stared back at me, and I felt a familiar twinge of reluctance. Ugh, I really hate marking quizzes.

Without looking up, I tried to lighten the mood. "Who's your favorite music artist?" I asked, casting a quick glance in her direction before returning my attention to the quizzes, scrawling corrections and comments with the red pen. Silence stretched between us for a few seconds, and I started to wonder if she'd even heard me or if she was purposely ignoring the question.

Finally, she broke the quiet. "Nina Simone," she said, her voice calm and low. I looked up, curious. She still hadn't lifted her head, her eyes fixed on some papers in front of her, her expression unreadable.

Nina Simone? The name was vaguely familiar, but her music wasn't—maybe I was too young to appreciate it. "Who's yours?"

"Lana Del Rey," I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. There was a thrill in simply saying her name; I loved Lana's music so much it was almost embarrassing.

Montgomery responded with a soft hum of acknowledgment, a faint sound of approval or perhaps mild indifference, as she remained engrossed in her reading.

I kept my gaze on her a few seconds longer, watching the way her eyes moved methodically over her papers, her focus unbroken. Part of me just wished she'd talk to me more. The silence was so heavy, pressing down on every second that ticked by, and it was honestly starting to get to me. I felt this restless urge to fill it, to say something—anything—just to break the stillness. But a small part of me worried that maybe she wanted it this way, that she valued the peace and quiet, and I'd just be ruining it by trying to force a conversation.

But the hell with being scared. I cleared my throat lightly and said, "How's Tuna?" I kept my eyes on the quizzes, pretending to be casual.

"He's doing fine," she replied, her tone as steady as always. I waited, hoping she'd keep the conversation going, but the silence crept back in, wrapping itself around us once more. Great, I thought. Do I try again, or just take the hint and stay quiet?

After a moment, I couldn't resist. "If you could have any exotic pet, which one would you choose?"

Her answer came quickly. "Ocelot."

I perked up, a genuine smile lighting up my face. "That's such a cool choice! They're adorable." I let the excitement spill out a bit, leaning forward as I continued, "If I could choose, I'd definitely go with a Meerkat. I actually got to pet one a few years ago when I was..." My voice trailed off as I heard her sigh, soft but unmistakable, and I stopped mid-sentence.

Wow, could she be any ruder? If she didn't want me to talk, she could just say so; no need to sigh while I'm in the middle of a sentence. Frustration simmered under my skin, and I tightened my grip on the pen, taking a slow breath to steady myself. "Sorry for annoying you," I muttered, keeping my voice as even as I could manage.

At my words, Montgomery's head snapped up, her sharp gaze meeting mine. "I apologize, sweetheart," she said quickly, her voice softening. "You're not annoying me." Her eyes searched mine, and I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden change in her tone.

"But you sighed while I was talking..." I murmured, frowning slightly, still confused.

She let out a quiet huff, her shoulders relaxing. "I'm annoyed at my students. No matter how many times I explain something, it seems to go right over their heads." Her expression softened as her gaze lingered on me. "Your lovely voice could never annoy me."

A small, unexpected warmth spread through me at her words. She smiled, her lips curving gently, and the tension from moments ago seemed to dissolve. "Tell me about your experience petting a meerkat," she said, her hands coming together over the stack of quizzes she'd been working on, her tone genuinely curious.

"Oh, that's okay," I waved dismissively, trying to brush it off. "You don't have to pretend to be interested."

Montgomery's expression hardened, and she pushed the quizzes to the side. "I am interested," she insisted, setting her pen down with a finality that made it clear she wouldn't be interrupted. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and clasping her hands under her chin, her eyes fixed intently on mine. "Please, tell me."

I set the pen down, leaning back into the chair as I felt the memory come alive in my mind. "So, I went to South Africa with my aunt on vacation," I began, my voice a little brighter than before. "We visited Kruger National Park, and there was this tiny shop selling souvenirs. The shop owner had a meerkat just...chilling on his shoulder."

A small smile spread across Montgomery's face, her eyes focused on me as I continued. I could feel her interest, the warmth in her gaze encouraging me. "I couldn't resist—I just had to ask if I could pet it. And to my surprise, he didn't just let me pet it; he handed it over to me like it was no big deal!"

Montgomery's smile widened as I went on, describing how the meerkat scrambled up my arm, settling comfortably on my shoulder as though we were old friends. "It stayed there, just chilling, while I fed it a few little snacks and played with it. Meanwhile, my aunt was too busy browsing to even notice!" I laughed, caught up in the memory.

"I still have a picture of that moment! The shop owner snapped it for me," I added, my laughter softening into a warm giggle.

Montgomery unclasped her hands, her expression eager, almost playful. "Well, go on then," she urged, chuckling softly. "Show me the picture!"

Her interest was so genuine that I found myself reaching for my phone, excited to share the moment with her.

I scrolled through my gallery, searching for that one cherished photo. Finally spotting it, I handed the phone over to her, feeling a flicker of excitement at the thought of sharing the moment.

Montgomery studied the image for a few seconds, her eyes lighting up before a huge grin broke across her face. "This is absolutely adorable!" she exclaimed, zooming in on the picture. Her finger lingered over the tiny, bright-eyed meerkat perched on my shoulder. "Look at its little eyes!"

"I know, right?" I laughed, the memory just as vivid. "I wanted to buy a meerkat plushie as a souvenir, but I couldn't find one anywhere."

She handed the phone back, a look of surprise crossing her face. "No stores had one?"

I shook my head. "No, my aunt and I checked every shop we could find, but either they didn't carry anything like that or they were all out of stock."

"That's too bad," she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe next time you visit, you'll have better luck."

"I hope so," I replied, smiling as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Reluctantly, I picked up the red pen again, shifting my focus back to the pile of quizzes in front of me, though the warmth of the moment lingered, making the task a little more bearable.

Montgomery gathered her things, slipping her bag over her shoulder as she prepared to leave for a lecture. She paused at the door, and for a moment, I half expected her to say I could leave once I finished grading the stack of quizzes in front of me. But instead, she turned back to mention where I could find another stack for when I was done. Internally, I sighed, the thought of even more quizzes deflating, but I managed a polite nod, keeping any hint of reluctance off my face.

Time dragged on as I worked through the first stack, my pen scratching steadily across each page. I'd just made it halfway through the second stack when the door opened, and Montgomery strode back in, looking visibly worn out. She tossed her handbag onto the floor, the leather landing with a soft thud, and dropped heavily into her chair, sighing as she sank back. Her fingers went to her temples, rubbing small circles as if to chase away a headache.

"That bad?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She only hummed in response, a tired sound that seemed to speak for itself, as though she didn't even have the energy for a full answer.

After a brief pause, I hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I go buy myself a bottle of water from the cafeteria?"

Montgomery glanced up, her eyes softening a little as she gestured behind her. "There's some in the fridge," she said, her voice gentle. "Help yourself."

I gave her a small smile and stood up, making my way to the fridge. I grabbed the first bottle of water I saw, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Glancing back at Montgomery, I noticed her staring blankly ahead, slouched in her chair with an expression that spoke of complete exhaustion.

"You know," I ventured, stepping a little closer, "you'd look great in French braids."

Her gaze shifted to me, a flicker of amusement passing through her tired eyes. "I do look good in them," she said matter-of-factly, though her eyes had already moved past me, focused somewhere distant.

"Then why don't you ever wear them?" I asked, taking another small step forward. I held out the water bottle, offering it to her in case she wanted a sip.

She waved it off, giving a weary smile. "I need something stronger than water. And I don't braid my hair because I don't know how. My mother always did it for me back when I was in school."

A surge of excitement bubbled up in me. "I can do it for you!" I offered, almost bouncing with eagerness. Braiding my aunt's hair had always been something I loved; it was a calming thing to do, one that had started out messy but had slowly turned into a skill. "I even have elastic bands in my bag."

Montgomery's gaze settled on me, her lips pressed into a thin line, considering. "I don't let people touch my hair," she murmured, her tone as guarded as ever. I could see the walls she normally kept up—firm and unyielding.

But then, a small, almost reluctant smile broke through. "But... I suppose I can make an exception for you."

Excitement bubbling inside me, I screwed the cap back on the water bottle and set it on her desk before moving around to the other side of the room. I dug through my bag, fingers searching eagerly for the little elastic bands. Finally finding them, I turned and walked back to her, stopping just behind her chair.

"Do you have a hairbrush or something?" I asked, slipping two elastic bands around my fingers to keep them ready.

She scoffed, a touch of pride in her voice. "Please. My hair doesn't tangle."

I shrugged, hiding my grin as I gently gathered her hair and began parting it down the middle. Honestly, I could barely believe she was letting me do this. Her blonde hair was soft, sliding smoothly through my fingers, and I could feel the warmth of her as I worked, sectioning each half carefully.

A smile stayed on my face the entire time, the simple act of braiding her hair unexpectedly comforting. Montgomery sat still, completely patient, with an unusual calmness in her posture. It only took me a few minutes to finish, and I stepped back to admire the twin braids that hung neatly over her shoulders.

"Are you done already?" she asked, sounding almost surprised as she turned to glance at me over her shoulder, her expression a mixture of curiosity and mild disbelief.

With a small nod, she handed me her phone. I carefully lined up the shot and snapped a picture, handing it back with a hint of pride. She stared at the photo for a few seconds, her expression shifting as she studied the neat, symmetrical braids I'd woven. I took the opportunity to slip back into my chair, settling in and watching her reaction.

"I'm impressed," she admitted, placing her phone on the desk. "I was half-expecting it to look like a mess."

I clicked my tongue, feigning annoyance. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

She chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love it."

Feeling a swell of pride, I grinned and stretched my legs. Just as I picked up a quiz to continue marking, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. A deep, frustrated groan escaped her lips as she glanced at the screen. "What now?"

But the frustration faded when she saw the caller ID. Straightening up, she answered with a hint of surprise in her voice, " Hello?" A brief pause, then, "Yes, this is Johanna Montgomery."

She listened in stunned silence, her face slowly contorting into a mixture of shock and deep sadness. "When?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she started packing up with one hand, fumbling to gather her things.

I watched, trying to piece together what was happening. She shifted the phone to her other ear, her expression hardening with urgency. "Yes, I'm on my way now," she said before hanging up, her hand shaking slightly as she stuffed her belongings into her handbag.

"What's the matter?" I asked, concern slipping into my voice as I stood up, ready to help in any way I could.

Her voice came out tight and controlled, but I could see the strain in her eyes. "My mother's heart failed," she managed, throwing her handbag over her shoulder, "They're prepping her for surgery right now."

My heart dropped, the gravity of her words sinking in. Elizabeth's heart had failed? This was serious—terrifyingly so. "Can I come with you?" I asked, just as she reached the door.

She stopped and looked back, her lips pressed together as if weighing the offer. After a brief moment, she nodded. "...Sure," she said softly, before hurrying out.

Without a second thought, I abandoned everything on the desk and jogged after her. She locked her office door and set off at a near-run, her strides fast and determined as she headed toward the parking lot, with me right on her heels.

"Do you want to take my car?" I offered when we reached the lot, trying to keep pace.

She shot me a look, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was absurd. "I'm pretty sure my car's faster than that tin box you drive," she muttered, though her lips curved into a hint of a smirk before she picked up her pace again, heading straight for her car.

When we reached her car, she swung open the passenger door, motioning for me to get in. I blinked, momentarily surprised. Chivalry wasn't dead, apparently.

She slipped into the driver's seat, and with a quick push of a button, the engine hummed to life. She backed out swiftly, her grip on the wheel firm as she sped toward the hospital. Let me just say—she was flying down the road, keeping just close enough to the speed limit to avoid getting pulled over but pushing it in a way that made my stomach clench.

Her Audi handled like a dream, though; the leather seats practically hugged you, and the sleek, high-end interior radiated luxury. Despite my nerves, I couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship—although my main focus was on gripping the door handle, bracing myself as she navigated every turn with a practiced ease that still felt dangerously fast.

In what had to be record time, we pulled up to the hospital. She parked in the first available space, barely shutting off the car before we both scrambled out, moving in sync. Without a word, we rushed through the sliding doors, weaving through the hallways toward her mother's room.

As we reached the hallway leading to her mother's room, we spotted a team of nurses wheeling Elizabeth's bed down toward the operating room. Montgomery surged forward, her pace quickening until she was walking beside her mother, her hand gently gripping Elizabeth's.

I followed at a respectful distance, watching as Montgomery leaned in close, speaking urgently to the nurses, her voice steady but strained. I stayed back, not wanting to intrude on this moment, yet ready to be there if she needed me. Her fingers laced through her mother's, holding tight, as though her touch alone could keep Elizabeth grounded.

At the OR doors, the nurses paused. Montgomery had to let go, and as Elizabeth was wheeled away, she raised her hands to her head, fingers threading through her hair, eyes fixed on the doors as they swung shut.

I stopped beside her, feeling the weight of the silence between us. "Do you want me to go in with her?" I offered quietly, my voice soft. "Or would you rather I stay out here with you?"

She didn't answer with words, but her gaze, filled with a vulnerable intensity, made her choice clear. I nodded, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be right back," I said gently. "Wait here."

I slipped through the doors and caught sight of Nurse Larissa, who was about to enter the operating room. I stopped her with a polite but urgent request. "Nurse Larissa, could you please make sure someone comes out periodically to give us updates on Elizabeth's condition?"

She gave a warm nod. "Of course. We'll keep you informed."

I stepped back out into the corridor where Montgomery was waiting, her posture tense and her expression unreadable. "Let's go to the waiting room," I suggested softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Someone will come and give us updates soon."

Montgomery pursed her lips, her eyes flickering with uncertainty before she nodded. She turned on her heel, and I fell into step beside her as we made our way down the stark, fluorescent-lit hallway.

The silence between us felt heavy, almost palpable, filled with unspoken worries and racing thoughts. My mind churned with anxiety; I couldn't shake the images of Elizabeth from earlier. The uncertainty of her condition loomed over us.

As we walked, I glanced sideways at Montgomery. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her usually confident demeanor tinged with concern. It was unsettling to see her so vulnerable, a rare glimpse behind the facade of the composed professor I was used to.

The faint sound of our footsteps echoed against the sterile walls, amplifying the silence that enveloped us. I couldn't help but feel a shared weight in the air, we were both grappling with the same fears for Elizabeth. I just hoped that whatever news awaited us in the waiting room would bring a sense of relief instead of further dread.