Page 127 of The Professor's Wife

“Not anymore.”

“It was a mistake. I believe you. You won’t behave like that again.”

I nodded my head, repeatedly telling him I wouldn’t.

I would be perfect.

I would not mess this up, and I would do everything in my power to prove myself to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It started at breakfast.

A small diner off the highway. Tristan had picked it because it was quiet, tucked away, and its sign had promised fresh hash browns. We sat near the window because I wanted to feel the sunlight pouring in. I was halfway through my coffee when I noticed it.

A woman at the counter. Middle-aged. Brunette. She was staring at me.

It wasn’t a casual or curious stare. It was intense, like she was trying to place me.

I looked away quickly, heart skipping. Maybe she thought I looked familiar. Maybe she was just nosy. But when I glanced back, she was still watching me. Her brows were furrowed, lips slightly parted. She whispered something to the man beside her, and he turned to look, too.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of how exposed I was. My dress felt too bright. My hair too messy. I reached for my coffee, trying to steady my hands.

Tristan didn’t notice. He was busy buttering toast, humming under his breath. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to sound paranoid.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Later that night, it happened again.

We were at a restaurant, sitting on the patio outside. The place was loud, dark, filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Tristan was talking to the bartender, asking about local music nights, and I was nursing a ginger ale, watching the crowd.

Then I felt it.

Eyes.

I turned slowly and caught a group of people at a nearby table staring. Two women. One man. All in their twenties. One of the women had her phone out, angled slightly toward me. She wasn’t taking a photo—but she was showing something to the others. Something on the screen that made them glance at me again.

My stomach dropped.

I looked away, heart pounding, hands trembling. I felt like I was under a spotlight and they knew something.

When Tristan returned, I leaned closer to him. “Can we go?”

He looked surprised. “You okay?”

“I just… I don’t feel great.”

He didn’t question it. He paid the tab and we left.

Away from the eyes and people, the air was cool. I tried to breathe it in, but my lungs felt tight. We walked in silence for a while, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes. I was in a blur. Panicked and frightened and suddenly itching to run.

“Daze?” Tristan asked gently. “What’s going on?”

I hesitated. “I think people are… looking at me.”

He frowned. “Looking at you?”

“Like they recognize me.”