ZxRYAB_

Oxford, 1893.
She’s the chaos he never planned for.
He’s the silence she can’t quite break.

When sharp-tongued student Iris Evelyn collides with cold, brilliant lecturer Edward Ashcroft, sparks don’t fly—they simmer. In whispered arguments. Glances across bookshelves. Letters never sent.

Between debates and unspoken feelings, they orbit each other—too close to stay untouched, too distant to name what’s growing between them.

But in a place like Oxford, love isn't a possibility.
It's a liability.

And the closer they get, the more it threatens to destroy them both.


A slow-burn academic romance with razor-sharp banter, quiet heartbreak, and two people who were never supposed to feel this much.

Drifted Apart.

Not by much. But Ashcroft had started noticing things like that.

He didn't check his watch. Didn't tap the table. Just sat there, hands folded, one glove missing, pretending to read.

She arrived seven minutes later with a smug look and two paper cups.

She slid one cup toward him, then placed something else beside it.

Folded. Neat. Like she hadn't kept it in her coat pocket for two days.

Ashcroft didn't reach for it. Just looked at her. "Changed your mind?"

"No," Iris said. "Just figured you were cold enough already."

They sat in silence for a while. Not tense. Just full.

Ashcroft shifted once to take a sip of tea. She was watching him.

Iris shrugged. "I just like the way you frown at your cup like it's personally offended you."

He didn't smile. But he didn't look away either.

After their study session, they left together.

Outside the hall, wind catching at her hair, Iris stopped and turned.

"You always say 'you' or 'Miss Evelyn.' It's very... old-money gothic."

It came out low. Unpracticed. Like a note played for the first time on an old instrument.

She smiled. Not wide. Just enough.

But she noticed the way he said it.

Ep 13: And You Noticed.