CHAPTER 7- A NEW SEMESTER

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely drained, the events of the previous day still weighing heavily on me. Despite my exhaustion, I knew I had to go to class. Dragging myself out of bed, I checked my phone and found a message from MJ:

"I'll be waiting for you at the college entrance hall. Don't keep me waiting, sarah"

I smiled faintly and replied, "I'll be there in 30 minutes."

With little time to spare, I grabbed a slice of bread and ate it dry as I walked to school. The morning air was crisp, but it did little to lift the cloud hovering over me. When I passed by the library, I stopped.

The memory of what had transpired there yesterday came rushing back like a tidal wave. I stood there for a moment, staring at the entrance, replaying every word, every glare, and every tear I had tried to suppress. My chest tightened, and I felt the weight of it all pulling me down again.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. I turned back toward the college entrance hall, where MJ was waiting, but my steps faltered when I looked up.

There he was. Isaac.

He was surrounded by his usual group of friends, laughing and talking as they always did. My heart sank. I prayed silently—desperately—that he wouldn't notice me. That he wouldn't call out to me, approach me, or even glance in my direction. I braced myself, trying to come up with a plan to avoid him, but all I could do was stand frozen in place, hoping to go unnoticed.

And then he walked past me.

He didn't even look at me. Not once.

It was as if I didn't exist, like I was just another face in the crowd.

I stood there, stunned, unable to process what had just happened. A part of me felt insulted by his indifference, but another part—the bigger part—felt relief. A wave of calm washed over me as I realized that maybe, just maybe, our conversation yesterday had finally gotten through to him.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope that things might return to normal.

When I finally made it to class, MJ was waiting for me with a bright smile. She introduced me to someone new—a guy named Peter.

Peter and I hit it off almost instantly. There was something about his laid-back demeanor and warm smile that put me at ease. Over the next few days, we became fast friends, and Peter eventually introduced me to one of his own friends, Mark.

MJ didn't know much about Mark, admitting she wasn't particularly close to him, but she had seen him hanging around Peter a few times. Despite her reservations, Mark and I seemed to get along just fine.

Before long, we had formed a little group: me, MJ, and Peter as the core trio, with Mark popping in every now and then.

The rest of the semester passed quietly. I didn't hear from Isaac, nor did I see him again. It was as if he had vanished from my life entirely. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to breathe, to relax.

I convinced myself that nothing could go wrong now. Isaac was gone, and I could finally focus on living my life the way I wanted.

I convinced myself that life at university would only get better from here. The turbulence of my first two years had finally settled, and I was optimistic about what lay ahead.

Moving from my second year to my third without any failed grades felt like a major victory, especially considering all I'd been through. The late-night study sessions with Peter and MJ had paid off, and I couldn't have been prouder of myself.

The start of my third year was buzzing with excitement, and whispers of rumors began circulating. Among the most talked-about was the news that Isaac had graduated—but he hadn't left.

Apparently, the university had recruited him as an assistant lecturer. Isaac, of all people, was now teaching at the same institution where I was studying.

At first, I shrugged it off. What were the odds of him teaching any of my classes? Even if he did, I reasoned, it was purely professional. I'd sit at the back of the class, avoid eye contact, and he'd be nothing more than another lecturer.

Little did I know, the universe had other plans.

The semester began with a sense of renewal. My close-knit group—Peter, MJ, and sometimes Mark—was stronger than ever. We spent long summer days laughing, studying, and making plans for the future. Everything felt light and carefree.

Meanwhile, my hard work on my health had started to show. The combination of keto dieting and frequent gym sessions was paying off. My weight loss wasn't drastic, but it was noticeable. For the first time in a long time, I felt more comfortable in my skin.

Then came the first class of the semester.

I walked into the lecture hall with Peter and MJ, our chatter filling the room as we settled into our seats. The excitement of a new academic year was palpable.

The moment the lecture began, I was surprised and shocked to my core.

Standing at the front of the room, with his usual composed demeanor and piercing gaze, was Isaac.

He introduced himself as our assistant professor, explaining that our main professor was on a research sabbatical and he'd be taking over for the semester.

My heart raced. I couldn't believe it.

I told myself it wouldn't be a problem. After all, this was just a classroom, and he was just a lecturer. As long as I kept my head down and avoided any unnecessary attention, everything would be fine.

But a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me: Nothing about Isaac is ever simple.

As I made my way to the door, my footsteps echoing softly in the nearly empty lecture hall, I heard a voice behind me, low and almost inaudible.

"You were so much cuter when you were chubby."

I froze mid-step, the words hanging in the air like a whisper that carried far more weight than it should have. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around slowly, my eyes narrowing as they met Isaac's. Or rather, Professor Isaac's, who was now casually gathering his belongings as if he hadn't just uttered those words.

"Excuse me, Professor? Did you say something?" I asked, my voice measured but tinged with disbelief.

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable, then shook his head. "No, nothing. Please exit the class—I have another lecture starting soon."

For a moment, I stood there, unsure if I'd imagined it. But I was certain of what I'd heard. The word "chubby" echoed in my mind, dredging up memories I'd spent years trying to bury. Shaking it off, I turned and left, the unease settling deep in my chest.

If he thought those words would slide past unnoticed, he was sorely mistaken.

As I walked out of the lecture hall, my heart raced, and my mind was in overdrive. I replayed what I thought I had heard Isaac—or rather, Professor Isaac—say.

"You were so much cuter when you were chubby."

It didn't make sense. Why would he say that? Was he even talking to me? I tried to convince myself that I must have misheard or that he was talking to someone else—or maybe to himself.

When I joined Peter and MJ outside the hall, I plastered on a fake smile, trying to mask my confusion.

"You okay, Sarah?" MJ asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just got distracted for a moment."

Peter shrugged. "Let's grab something to eat. We've got a break before the next lecture."

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. As we walked to the cafeteria, I forced myself to focus on their chatter, but Isaac's words—or what I thought were his words—kept echoing in my head.

Later that evening, back in my hostel, I replayed the scene in my mind. The way he had looked at me so nonchalantly when I asked if he had said something. His calm denial. The way he told me to leave because another lecture was about to start.

I tossed and turned in bed, unable to shake off the unease. Was Isaac subtly mocking me, or was it something else?

But what bothered me the most wasn't the comment itself—it was the fact that it felt personal. Isaac had always been composed, detached even. So why now? Why me?

I resolved not to let it bother me. He was a professor now, and I was a student. As long as he kept things professional, I'd do the same.

Still, a part of me couldn't help but wonder if Isaac had truly let go of the past—or if he was silently toying with me in ways I couldn't yet understand.