Chapter Five

Monday;

Sitting in Midnight Mocha, the cozy café buzzed with soft chatter and the hum of the espresso machine. The rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the sweet aroma of pastries, creating a comforting warmth that made it easy to lose track of time. I tapped my fingers on the edge of the small round table, waiting for my name to be called so I could grab my coffee and a decadent slice of cheesecake.

To pass the time, I scrolled through the email from Prof. Montgomery, meticulously reading her detailed instructions about the upcoming assignment due next Monday. As I read, my eyes flicked over to my inbox, scanning for any sign of an email about the TA position. Still nothing. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest, but I brushed it off—surely, she was still making her decision.

"Valentina!" The barista's voice broke through my thoughts, calling my name from the counter. I stood up quickly, too quickly, and accidentally collided with a young girl. My gaze met hers, and I instantly recognized her—the same girl who had bumped into that older woman last week.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I apologized, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks. She just laughed, her bright smile softening the moment as she waved off my apology like it was no big deal. "Don't worry about it!" she chirped, her carefree demeanor infectious. I smiled back, feeling a little lighter as I made my way to collect my order, grateful for the small, unexpected kindness in the midst of a busy day.

With my steaming coffee in one hand and the plate of cheesecake in the other, I carefully set them down on the small table, the rich aroma of the dessert already making my mouth water. I eased into my chair, the plush cushion sinking comfortably beneath me, and picked up my fork. The first bite of the cheesecake was pure bliss—a velvety blend of creamy sweetness with a hint of tang, the graham cracker crust adding just the right amount of crunch. I sighed in satisfaction, savoring the moment. It had been far too long since I'd treated myself to something so indulgent, and I silently vowed that this wouldn't be a rare occurrence anymore.

Of course, that meant I'd have to exercise a bit to balance it all out—something I didn't do nearly enough of. I'd have these random bursts of motivation to get fit, imagining myself running through the park or sweating it out in a gym class. But, without fail, my enthusiasm would fizzle out within a couple of days, and I'd slip right back into my comfortable routine of lazy afternoons and occasional guilty pleasures like this. Still, for now, the cake was worth every bite, and I could almost convince myself that I'd hit the treadmill tomorrow... or the day after.

Before I knew it, I was heading back to campus, the warm afternoon sun dipping lower as I walked. I couldn't believe I'd spent nearly two hours at the café, lost in the rhythm of soft jazz music and the hum of quiet conversations. Somehow, one slice of cake turned into two, and a single cup of coffee became a refill as I hunched over my laptop, scrolling through research articles. It was easy to lose track of time in that cozy corner, surrounded by the scent of fresh pastries and the comforting clatter of cups.

Most students brought their laptops to lectures, tapping away at keyboards as they took notes, but I'd always found it easier to focus when I wrote everything down by hand. Something about the scratch of pen on paper helped the information stick. Still, I carried my laptop everywhere, just in case. It felt like an extension of me—a mix of schoolwork, random internet searches, and half-finished projects.

As I crossed the campus grounds, the murmur of student chatter floated through the air. I was passing a group of students lounging by a bench when one of them suddenly gasped, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Bro!" he exclaimed, shoving his phone at his friend. "Professor Montgomery assigned me as her TA."

My pace slowed as I discreetly eavesdropped, my heart sinking with each step. So, she had made her decision after all.

I couldn't help the pang of disappointment that hit me as I continued walking. I'd hoped, even if just a little, that I'd be chosen, but that's how life goes—sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I tried to shake off the feeling as I overheard the rest of their conversation.

"Dude, why'd you even sign up?" his friend asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he handed the phone back.

The guy smirked, puffing out his chest. "Have you seen her? She's smoking hot." My jaw nearly dropped. Seriously? He signed up for the TA position just because he thought Professor Montgomery was attractive? His friend rolled his eyes, but the guy kept going, grinning as if he'd won the lottery. "Yeah, she's a major bitch, but I'm gonna turn that frown of hers upside down. Give me some time."

I shook my head in disbelief, resuming my pace toward the next lecture. It baffled me how some guys thought they could swoop in and "fix" a woman's life, as if their presence alone would magically make things better. In reality, they often ended up doing more harm than good, leaving chaos in their wake.

✿

Wednesday;

In Professor Montgomery's lecture, the room was filled with the quiet hum of concentration as we worked through the steps of an experiment. Each of us had a handout with detailed instructions, but before we could actually start the experiment, we needed to solve a series of complex equations to gather the correct data. The tension was palpable as everyone scribbled furiously, erasers scratching against paper with every misstep.

I was making steady progress, my calculations lining up neatly on the page, but a few students around me were struggling, raising hesitant hands. To my surprise, Professor Montgomery moved from desk to desk, offering curt but helpful guidance. Her patience was still razor-thin, but she didn't ignore anyone's plea for help.

"If you're done, clean up and you're free to go," she announced, her eyes already back on the stack of quizzes she was grading. A couple of students had already packed up and left, and most of the room seemed close to finishing, but after my last mishap, I wasn't taking any chances. I triple-checked every line of the instructions, making sure I didn't miss a single detail.

I glanced up briefly, watching Professor Montgomery as she meticulously marked each quiz, a red pen in hand. It struck me then that she actually took the time to look over every answer we wrote, proving that these quizzes weren't just busywork.

After carefully measuring the mystery liquid, I poured it into the test tube, holding my breath as it mixed with the other chemicals. The solution swirled for a moment before settling into a perfect, vivid blue. A wave of relief washed over me—I had done everything right. I allowed myself a silent, triumphant smile, resisting the urge to fist pump in the middle of the lab.

I quickly wiped down my desk, tidying up the scattered papers and returning the equipment to its designated spots. With my station spotless, I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder in one swift motion. There was nothing better than a professor dismissing class early; it felt like a small victory every time, a secret gift of stolen minutes. It's moments like these that make university feel a little less like a chore and a little more like freedom.

The rest of the day drifted by without much excitement. My final lecture with Prof. Martin was thankfully straightforward—he guided us through some new material, pausing to answer questions with his usual calm patience. No surprises, no stress, just a smooth end to the academic day.

After class, I headed straight home, my stomach growling the whole way. Once inside, I raided the kitchen, snacking on anything I could find before collapsing onto the couch. Time slipped away as I aimlessly scrolled on my phone, indulging in two hours of blissful procrastination before finally pulling myself together to start on the assignment we were given.

Now, it's just past six in the evening, and my brain feels fried. I need a break. The idea of a walk in the park seemed perfect—something to clear my head and recharge. Grabbing my phone and keys, I stepped outside. As I walked, the streets grew quieter, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The distant hum of traffic softened, and the evening air carried the faint scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers, reminding me why these little escapes are always worth it.

As I wandered through the park, I let my feet guide me along the winding pathways, my camera poised to capture anything that caught my eye. The vibrant flowers bloomed in a kaleidoscope of colors, their petals glistening with the remnants of a recent drizzle. I snapped shots of tiny critters scurrying through the underbrush, their small, busy lives unfolding without a care in the world, and birds perched high on branches, their feathers puffed as they sang into the evening air.

It was moments like this that made me dream of winning the lottery—of buying a secluded house tucked away from the bustle of the city, nestled in the heart of nature. There's something magical about how effortlessly everything in the natural world coexists; the way the trees sway in rhythm with the wind, the wildflowers bloom in unplanned perfection, and even the smallest creatures find their place. It all feels so peaceful, so perfectly in tune.

I eventually settled on a bench near the pond, where the soft ripples danced across the water's surface. Ducks paddled lazily, dipping their heads beneath the water and flapping their wings, sending gentle splashes in every direction. Across the pond, a few joggers kept pace with one another, their rhythmic footsteps echoing faintly, blending with the calming sounds of nature. Everything felt right—like a moment suspended in time, simple yet utterly beautiful.

I squinted, trying to make out the figures running on the opposite side of the pond. The familiar shape of a medium, energetic dog caught my eye—it was Tuna! And wait... was that Professor Montgomery jogging beside him?

I couldn't help but snicker quietly. So she's the one who named her dog Tuna. I'm still baffled that anyone would willingly name their dog after a fish. But there she was, looking surprisingly casual in a pair of running shorts and a tank top, keeping pace with Tuna, who trotted alongside her, tail wagging. No leash? Wow. I wish my dog was that well-trained.

But just as I was admiring their synchronization, Tuna's head whipped around, his eyes locking onto me. In a split second, he broke away, darting across the grass with all the speed of a canine missile. Professor Montgomery's exasperated shout echoed across the park as she chased after him, her long strides barely keeping up. So much for perfect obedience.

Oh crap. My heart sank as Tuna skidded to a stop right in front of me, his tail wagging so fast it was just a blur. He sat there panting, eyes bright and full of mischief, while Montgomery stormed closer, her expression darkening by the second. She was definitely going to kill me—and possibly the dog too.

I bent down, giving Tuna a quick scratch behind the ears, feeling the soft fur as he leaned into my touch with a delighted wiggle. Just then, Professor Montgomery skidded to a stop a few feet away, her face flushed, not from the run but from pure annoyance. She planted her hands firmly on her hips, her posture stiff, radiating the kind of irritation that could melt ice. I couldn't tell if she was more upset about her runaway dog or the fact that I had dared to pet him without permission.

"Tuna," she snapped, her voice cutting through the calm park air, "get your ass over here, right now." She pointed sharply at the ground by her feet, and Tuna, looking momentarily guilty, turned tail and obediently trotted back to her, sitting neatly by her side. Professor Montgomery shot me a brief, almost begrudging look before muttering a curt apology under her breath, her eyes flicking past me like I was an inconvenient speed bump in her day. Without another word, she spun on her heel and resumed her jog, Tuna padding beside her, tail still wagging happily as if nothing had happened.

I watched them disappear down the path, half-relieved that she hadn't recognized me from her lectures. The last thing I needed was my professor associating me with her dog's brief rebellion. Honestly, though? I was just glad I survived that encounter.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets, I decided it was time to head home. The evening was calm, the cool breeze brushing gently against my skin as I walked, lost in the tranquil sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong. Rounding the corner to my house, I spotted Aunt Grace's car parked in the driveway—a welcome sight. She was home.

"Yellooo," I called out cheerfully, pushing the front door open, my voice echoing through the quiet hallway.

Aunt Grace's head peeked out from the kitchen, her face lighting up with a smile. "Come help me with the food while you tell me about your day," she said, waving me over.

I joined her in the kitchen, the warm scent of spices filling the air as she stirred a pot on the stove. I grabbed a knife and started chopping onions, the sharp, pungent scent making my eyes water slightly. As I worked, I recounted my day at university—my classes, the unexpected encounter at the park, and the few moments of peace I'd managed to steal. When I finished chopping, I swept the onions into the sizzling pan, hearing them hiss as they hit the hot oil.

"And... I didn't get the TA position," I admitted, glancing sideways at her, trying to keep my voice light.

Aunt Grace paused, turning to face me, her brows knitting in surprise. "That's strange," she said thoughtfully, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your grades from last year were great. You were practically top of your class."

I shrugged, feeling the sting of disappointment bubble up again, even as I tried to brush it off. Apparently, "great" just wasn't quite good enough.

I grabbed a wooden spoon and gave the onions a quick stir, watching as they sizzled and turned golden, releasing a rich, savory aroma. Aunt Grace pulled a pack of mince from the fridge, tossing it into a bowl with a generous sprinkle of salt and pepper before kneading it with practiced hands. She added the seasoned meat to the pan, and the kitchen filled with the satisfying sound of meat hitting hot oil, mingling with the onions.

"Who got the position?" Aunt Grace asked, her voice casual as she took over at the stove, expertly breaking up the mince with a spatula.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. "Some guy. I overheard him bragging about it to his friends," I said, rolling my eyes at the memory of his smug tone.

Aunt Grace let out a low hum as she kept stirring. "Well, congrats to him, I guess," she said with a noncommittal shrug, her focus shifting to the bubbling pot beside her.

"Uh, no," I scoffed, running a hand through my hair in exasperation. "He only signed up because he thinks Professor Montgomery is hot. He even said he's going to, and I quote, 'turn her frown upside down.'" I mimicked his cocky attitude, shaking my head at the absurdity of it.

Aunt Grace scoffed loudly, giving the mince a vigorous stir. "Men," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She glanced at me, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "He won't last long," she said confidently, turning her attention back to the stove.

She was probably right. If he's only there for Montgomery's looks, he's either going to quit when he realizes the work involved, or she's going to whip him into shape—Montgomery doesn't strike me as the type to tolerate slacking. Either way, I had no time to waste on distractions. This was a sign to buckle down, focus on my work, and keep pushing myself.