The Professor's Forbidden Vow

Emilia's POV

The next day came quickly as expected, the morning sun spilled through the tall glass windows of Kingston University's lecture hall and painted the room in soft gold.

Students shuffled in with tired faces, clutching coffee cups, chattering, dropping their bags, and claiming their usual seats.

I kept my head down, clutching my notebook tight against my chest as if it could shield my heart from the storm inside. I hadn't slept much, not after the event of yesterday night. My thoughts kept drifting and relaying the event from the night before—the stranger in the corner, and alone in the shadows of the bar, his commanding presence, the way his eyes had lingered on mine like he already owned a part of me. Or perhaps, he knew me before.

I shook my head quickly, I couldn't be daydreaming again, not about some stranger who felt like he knew me.

Don't think about him.

It was nothing. It was just another night with another stranger.

I got into the lecture hall, slid into the second row, and sat in the corner by the aisle. That was my favorite spot to sit because it was safe, hidden, or at least I hoped so. I flipped my notebook open before me on the desk, and pretended to write what came to my mind.

Though, my hands trembled slightly as I held the pen.

My best friend, Clara Morin, leaned in from the seat behind me. “You look like death warmed over. Did you even sleep?” Clara whispered, staring at me.

I forced a laugh. “Rough night again. Couldn't shut my brain off.”

“Brain or heart?” Clara teased. “You've been distracted for days, Emilia. You've been acting somehow awkward, is everything okay?”

Before I could answer her, the chatter in the lecture hall stilled. A silence rippled through the hall as footsteps echoed from the doorway. It was the new professor and he looked familiar.

I looked up—and froze instantly.

Adrian Blackwell.

The air left my lungs for a seconds. And for a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. But no—the man was real, the stranger from the last night who had told me he was worse than a wolf, the one who had sat close, who had looked at me as if I was temptation myself, who had tucked a paper in the glass cup. The one who had avoided the glass cup from falling down, was now standing at the front of the room in a crisp black suit.

My professor.

My lips parted in shock, and my eyes widened in disbelief. The world tilted for a moment, and my I gripped my pen tighter to steady myself.

“Good morning.” His voice was smooth, and steady, the same voice that had whispered against my ear only hours ago. “I'm Professor Blackwell. I'll be teaching European Literature this semester.”

Students murmured in excitement. A few girls giggled, nudging each other at how attractive he was. But I couldn't hear them. All I heard was the pounding of my own heartbeat.

Clara leaned toward me again, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, he's hot.”

My throat was dry, so dry I was beginning to thirst for water. “Yeah,” I croaked. Hot. Dangerous. Forbidden.

Adrian’s gaze swept across the lecture hall, they were calm, unreadable, until they landed on me.

I felt it instantly—the pull, sharp and undebatable. His grey eyes locked onto mine as if no one else ever existed. Recognition flared immediately and we both locked eyes. A flicker of something dangerous flashed across his expression. Then, in a blink, it was gone, masked under a professional calm..

But I have seen it, yes. My stomach dropped because I knew he remembered the girl who didn't belong from last night.

“Let's begin.” His tone was cool, distant, as though nothing had happened between us. As though he hadn't leaned close last night, his lips were just inches from mine.

He turned to the white board, writing his name in bold strokes: Professor Adrian Blackwell.

I tried to look away, not to get distracted but my eyes betrayed me. I studied the curve of his shoulders, the way his suit hugged his frame, and the quiet authority in his movements. I hated myself for noticing that, all about him.

My pen scratched uselessly against the paper before me. My notes were just a mess of meaningless lines.

He lectured about Romanticism, quoting poets with precision, but I barely heard him, because every word he spoke carried an undertone I could still feel from the night before, as if the air between us was charged with a secret no one else could see.

At one point, Clara nudged me. “Are you even listening? You look carried away!”

I whispered back, “I'm trying to.”

“You're staring.”

My cheeks flushed. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” Clara giggled. “You never stare at professors. What's with you today?”

I quickly bent my head, pretending to write again. “Nothing. I'm just tired.”

But my body betrayed me. Every time Adrian's voice dipped lower, I shivered. And every time he glanced in my direction, my stomach tightened.

Halfway through the lecture, Adrian asked the class a question. “Who can tell me what Lord Byron meant when he said, She walks in beauty, like the night…?

Suddenly, a few hands shot up. And just then, I heard my name.

“Emilia.”

My head snapped up. He had called on me. Of all people, he had chosen me. His gaze was still steady, unreadable, but the way he said my name—low, deliberate—made my pulse race.

I swallowed hard instantly. “Um… I think he was comparing her to the night sky. Dark, mysterious, beautiful in a way that feels untouchable.”

Adrian's lips curved slightly, almost like a secret smile. “Good.”

My chest tightened because the approval in his tone shouldn't mean so much, but it did.

Clara grinned at me. “Show-off,” she whispered playfully.

I forced a weak smile. But inside, panic brewed. Why did he call on me? Why is he looking at me like that in the first place? Does he want me to remember? Or is he trying to warn me to forget? All that happened yesterday night at the bar.

The lecture dragged on. I counted every minute, willing it to end. Willing the lecture could be over. My notebook was filled with scribbles I couldn't even read.

Finally, Adrian closed his book. “That's enough for today. I'll see you all in the next class. Be punctual!”

Chairs scraped. Students packed up their belongings. Laughter and chatter filled the room again. Clara slung her bag over her shoulder. “Come on, let's grab coffee.”

“You go ahead,” I said quickly. “I'll catch up.”

Clara frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Go.”

Once Clara left, I took my time, pretending to gather my things slowly. My heart raced as I felt Adrian's presence still at the front of the lecture hall.

I then looked up once more—and froze.

As if I knew it, my instincts didn't lie. He was watching me.

The lecture hall was nearly empty, but his grey icy eyes were still locked on mine. There was no smile, no expression but just intensity.

My throat went dry. I stood quickly, clutching my books to my chest. My steps echoed as I walked down the aisle, trying not to stumble under his gaze again.

As I passed him, his voice stopped me.

“Emilia.”

My breath caught. I turned slowly to face him. “Yes, Professor.?”

His jaw tightened slightly at the word Professor. His grey eyes flickered immediately, dark and unreadable. For a second, I thought he might say something dangerous.

But to my surprise, he didn't. Instead, he leaned back against the desk, folding his arms. “Be careful walking home, okay. The city can be… unpredictable.”

My heart thudded. “O-okay. I will, professor.”

I turned to leave, my hands trembling. But just as I reached the door, I felt it again—his grey eyes on my back, it was heavy, burning, as though invisible threads tied us together.

And in that moment, I knew this was only the beginning of something I couldn't stop processing and imagining.

Because no matter how much I wanted to run, I couldn't escape him. Not when he's now my professor, not when my wide green eyes and his grey ice eyes spoke the truth our mouth couldn't say. Not when every glance felt like a vow.

As I decided to push the door open, Adrian's voice followed me again, this time, it was low and quiet but meant only for ears—

“We shouldn't have met last night.”

My breath caught, and I froze in the doorway. And just then, the door shut behind me, leaving the words echoing in my mind.

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