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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.

Ashcroft had never considered himself the kind of person who noticed the little things.

But lately, that's all he noticed.

The way Iris tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. How she clicked her pen four times exactly before she started writing. How she leaned toward him when she laughed—just slightly, just enough.

She didn't touch him. Not quite. But it felt like she might.

That day, she wore a different perfume. Lighter. Brighter. Like citrus and something floral he couldn't name.

He didn't say anything about it, but she caught him noticing.

"What?" she asked, catching his glance.

She blinked, surprised. "You noticed?"

"I'm not blind. Just usually selective."

He didn't answer immediately. Then, very quietly:

"It suits you. But I liked the old one better."

She grinned. "You're insufferable."

He was supposed to be editing a paper. She was supposed to be outlining a thesis. But neither of them made much progress.

There was a sort of tension building. Not bad tension—something lighter. Like the pause before a first note.

At one point, she nudged him with her foot under the table.

"Stop frowning. You'll get permanent creases."

"You look like you're arguing with invisible philosophers."

He glanced at her. "I am. They keep losing."

Later, when they were packing up, she asked, "You ever been to the riverbank behind the science wing?"

He gave her a look. "Why would I?"

She shrugged. "It's nice. Quiet. Cold. Your aesthetic."

He considered. Then, very softly: "Tomorrow?"

He watched her walk away. Not far. Just enough.

And for once, he didn't try to define whatever this was.

Ep 21: A Careful Distance.