Chapter Nine – The Pull of Two Hearts
Eliana sat at her desk with her laptop open, a half-written essay glowing on the screen. The cursor blinked impatiently, mocking her silence. She pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself to focus, but her mind was a mess of faces and voices.
Stephen's laugh, bright and magnetic.
William's words, soft and steady.
Two different kinds of warmth, pulling her apart.
She tried to return her attention to the textbook beside her, but the words blurred. All week, she had been skipping study sessions, drifting through classes. Her professors had noticed. Even Maddie, normally oblivious, raised her eyebrows when she saw the B-minus on Eliana's last quiz.
"Eliana, what's going on with you?" Maddie had asked at breakfast that morning. "You're slipping. You don't slip."
Eliana had forced a smile, brushing it off. But the truth gnawed at her: she was losing herself.
---
That evening, Stephen appeared outside her dorm, leaning against his car with a casual grin. "Come on, let's get out of here."
She hesitated. "I have an assignment—"
"Assignments can wait. Life can't." He reached for her hand. His touch was warm, insistent. "You've been locked up in that room too long. Let me remind you what fun feels like."
She knew she should say no. She knew her essay wouldn't write itself. But his smile was like gravity—pulling, irresistible.
The night blurred into neon lights and the roar of engines. Stephen introduced her to his friends, drove her through the city with the top down, wind tearing through her hair. For a few fleeting hours, she forgot her deadlines, forgot her guilt. She felt alive.
But when she finally stumbled back into her room past midnight, exhaustion crashed over her. She opened her laptop, stared at the blinking cursor, and felt the hollow ache of regret.
---
The next morning, she dragged herself to class, eyes heavy. Halfway through the lecture, she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.
William.
He didn't speak at first. He simply placed a cup of coffee on her desk and opened his notebook. When she glanced at him in surprise, he gave her a small smile.
"You look like you need it," he said.
Her throat tightened. "You didn't have to—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "But I wanted to."
For the rest of the class, he stayed beside her, quietly taking notes, occasionally sliding his paper toward her when he noticed her struggling to keep up. There was no grand gesture, no demand for her attention—just his steady presence, like a lighthouse in a storm.
When the lecture ended, she lingered, watching him pack his bag. Something inside her ached with gratitude.
"William," she said softly.
He looked up, his eyes warm.
"Why do you always… show up like this?" she whispered.
He studied her for a long moment, then answered in a low voice said, I can't stand to see you fall when I can bring you up.