Page 102 of The Professor's Wife

And so was Oliver.

He’d been so sure when he proposed. So confident. He’d spoken the words to me like he had rehearsed them a thousand times. His timing was impeccable.

And the ring…

Well, the ring was a statement.

But now, in the quiet of the bedroom, with the patio lights dimmed outside the window and Rowe asleep down the hall, I felt a strange unease settle in my chest.

Without thinking, I slid out of bed, my legs shaky beneath the weight of my strangled thoughts. Leaving the bedroom, I wandered through the cabin, dazed, wondering if I could truly have all of this.

I couldn’t ignore the ring on my finger.

I wasn’t used to things like this. Flashy gifts. Grand gestures. I was used to second-hand clothes and grocery budgets that required penny-pinching.

I stepped onto the deck and took a seat in the chair I had occupied when Oliver proposed. Soft wind fell over me, cooling my heated cheeks. Taking deep breaths, I pressed my thumb against the diamond, trying to imagine wearing it to Rowe’s school, to the grocery store, to class.

It felt heavy.

Not just physically, but emotionally. Like it came with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet. I thought about the way Oliver looked at me. Like I was something rare.

But I wasn’t.

I was a girl who had clawed her way through adult basic education, who still felt out of place in university halls, who had raised a son with borrowed help and borrowed time.

Fuck.

I didn’t want to be ungrateful. I didn’t want to question something so beautiful. But I also didn’t want to lose myself in the glitter.

My mounting insecurities wouldn’t fade. I wondered if Oliver truly saw me or if he saw only the version of myself I had led him to believe in.

June’s words slithered into my head.

Dragging me down.

Reminding me of the countless faults I didn’t want to confront. The ones that brought so much shame.

Was I going to ruin this like I had ruined so many other things in life?

I slid the ring off and placed it gently on the table. It gleamed unapologetically beneath the moonlight.

My throat tightened.

I wasn’t sure why I was panicking. Tears stung my eyes as I looked away from the ring and toward the black forest.

A strange feeling washed over me.

I looked away from the trees and toward the shed. The feeling grew stronger. Goose bumps pebbled my arms.

My mind did this sometimes. Took an ordinary shadow and gave it eyes. Made me think something was there when there wasn’t. I pressed my palms against the table and tried to breathe. It was the wine. The argument with June. The long drive and the lack of sleep. That was all.

But when I looked back at the forest, I could feel them again.

Eyes.

Eyes everywhere, watching me.

They want me to look back—