Darrell
That Monday, after lectures ended, I headed straight to my office and dropped into the chair behind the desk. I checked my watch to see it was 11:58. Bella should be here any minute. I’d made it crystal clear: noon sharp.
My phone buzzed. It was Gina, and her text read:
“Sorry, I didn’t reply for three days. I’ve been out of it.”
I stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering, then typed back one word: “Okay.”
I leaned my head against the chair, closed my eyes, and tried to shove the irritation down.
Another buzz. Her again.
“Are you angry?”
I exhaled through my nose. Typed: “When are we telling your parents about us… about you?”
Her reply came almost instantly.
“Don’t. Please! Not yet, at least.”
I was halfway through typing something sharper when a knock rattled t
