Ariana Arevalo

          Elias Walker adjusted the stack of essays on his desk, glancing toward the window of his small classroom. The soft hum of conversation filtered in from the hallway, but his attention was fixed on Clara Bennett, seated at the far end of the room. Her notebook lay untouched, and her gaze was unfocused, drifting far beyond Wuthering Heights's pages.

          “Clara,” Elias said gently, setting the papers aside. “Are you all right? You’ve barely spoken today.”

          Clara’s head jerked up, her cheeks flushing. “Oh—sorry, Elias. I’m just… distracted.”

          He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “You don’t have to apologize. Want to talk about it?”

          For a moment, Clara hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she closed her notebook. “It’s Nathan. And, well… someone else.”

          Elias raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

          “There’s this… professor,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Dr. Adair. He’s—he’s brilliant, Elias. The way he talks about literature, it’s like he sees right into your soul.” She bit her lip. “But Nathan doesn’t understand. He’s been so possessive lately, and I just… I feel stuck.”

          Elias frowned. “Dr. Adair? As in Victor Adair?”

          Clara nodded, her eyes wide. “Have you heard of him?”

          “Only in passing,” Elias said, his tone measured. “What’s going on with him?”

          “It’s complicated,” Clara admitted. “We’ve been… spending time together. He says he sees potential in me. But Nathan, he’s been my anchor for so long. I don’t know what I’m doing, Elias.”

          Elias’ concern deepened. Clara’s voice tinged with admiration, but he caught a note of unease beneath it. “Clara,” he said carefully, “just be sure you’re doing what’s best for you. Not what someone else wants from you.” She nodded, though she didn’t look convinced.

          A week later, Elias found himself standing outside Dr. Adair’s office. Clara’s words lingered in his mind, gnawing at him. The rumors he’d heard—whispers of inappropriate relationships, students leaving suddenly without explanation—now felt uncomfortably relevant.

 

          The office door was slightly ajar, revealing rows of leather-bound books and Dr. Adair seated behind an imposing mahogany desk. He looked up, his dark eyes narrowing.

          “Mr. Walker,” Adair said smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

          Elias stepped inside, feeling the weight of the professor’s gaze. “I’m here about Clara Bennett.”

          Adair’s expression didn’t waver, but something cold flickered in his eyes. “Clara is a talented young woman. I’ve been mentoring her.”

          “Mentoring,” Elias repeated, his tone neutral. “She’s conflicted, Dr. Adair. I think you know that.”

Adair leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And what is your role in this, Mr. Walker? Surely you’re not suggesting anything improper.”

          Elias felt his temper flare but kept his voice steady. “I’m suggesting that Clara is vulnerable. And it’s our job as educators to protect, not exploit, our students.”

          Adair’s smile vanished. “You presume much, Mr. Walker. Clara is an adult. She can make her own decisions.”

          Elias held his ground. “Maybe. But I’ve seen what happens when power is abused. I won’t let that happen to her.”

 

          Clara’s apartment was a mess of half-finished sketches and discarded coffee mugs when Elias arrived later that evening. She opened the door, her face pale and drawn.m

          “I talked to Adair,” Elias said without preamble.

          Clara’s eyes widened. “You what?”

          “He’s not who you think he is, Clara. I’ve heard things—about other students. I’m worried about you.”

          Clara stepped back, shaking her head. “You don’t understand, Elias. He believes in me. He sees something in me that Nathan never did, that you…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.

          Elias’ heart ached at her words, but he pressed on. “Clara, just think about what I’m saying. You’re brilliant, and you don’t need someone like Adair to prove that.”

          Tears welled in her eyes, and for a moment, Elias thought she might listen. But then she turned away, her shoulders trembling. “I can’t do this right now.”

 

          The confrontation came to a head on a rainy afternoon in Adair’s office. Elias, armed with the testimony of a former student, barged in without knocking. Adair looked up, his expression icy.

          “This ends now,” Elias said, his voice firm. “I know about your history. And I’m not the only one.”

Adair rose to his feet, his calm demeanor cracking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

          “I know enough,” Elias shot back. “And so does Clara.”

          Unbeknownst to them, Clara stood just outside the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She heard every word, the truth sinking in like a stone.

          When the door finally opened, Clara stepped inside, her face pale but resolute. “It’s over, Dr. Adair,” she said quietly. “I’m done.”

Adair’s expression hardened, but he didn’t protest. He knew the battle was lost.

 

          In the weeks that followed, Clara broke off her relationship with Nathan as well. “I need to figure out who I am,” she told Elias one evening. “For the first time, I feel like I can breathe.”

          Elias nodded, swallowing his feelings. “You’re stronger than you know, Clara.”

          As she walked away, her sketchbook tucked under her arm, Elias felt a pang of both pride and loss. He returned to his apartment, where the smell of coffee and the quiet comfort of his books waited for him. Sometimes, he thought, doing the right thing meant letting go.