The Professor's Forbidden Vow

Emilia's POV

The word replayed in my head as I left the lecture hall.

We shouldn't have met last night.

His voice was low, final, almost like a warning. But why? Why would he say that all of a sudden? Why did it feel like he meant something bigger than what happened last night at the bar, in the corner of the shadows.

I barely slept that night because my brain was a mess of questions with no answers. I needed the truth about what happened and why would he say such.

The following morning, I got up as usual, dressed to school. The campus was buzzing as expected. Students laughed, gossipped, walked around with phones in their hands. But when I walked into the hallway toward my next lecture, the air shifted.

People turned their gaze towards me. Some begin to whisper, and some smirked in mockery. I begin to feel confused, did I do something wrong, have I committed an offense... I was feeling embarrassed.

But at first, I thought I was imagining things until I heard it.

"She looks just like him"

"My instincts were right, they both had this facial resemblance..."

"Don't say that out loud."

"Come on, everyone can see it, or can't you see."

"Yes, I also figured it out."

My stomach dropped, and I slowed my steps, still clutching my books tighter to my chest as if it could shield me.

Two girls by the lockers leaned close together, and their voices weren't exactly quiet.

"I'm telling you, it's true and it has been confirmed." One said.

"Shut up, shut that nonsense... You don't even know a thing," the other giggled.

"Yes, of course. Everyone knows now that she's his daughter. That's why he looked at her like that yesterday."

My chest went cold. I needed an explanation of everything that's going on. I can't even think, can't process anything. My brain was just a mess relaying what happened at the bar the other night, the shock yesterday and another rumor today.

I finally stopped walking, my feet felt glued to the floor after hearing that word.

Daughter?

My hands shook as I gripped my books tighter.

The girl noticed me standing there, and her eyes widened, as she pressed a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, she heard us all."

The other girl whispered, "Run."

They both darted off, laughing nervously as they disappeared around the corner.

I stood frozen, my whole body was hot and cold at the same time.

His daughter?

Why would they even say that? Why would anyone—

A voice cut through my thoughts. It was Clara, my best friend. "Emilia, you okay?"

She came jogging up, her hair bouncing in its ponytail. She frowned at me. "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost."

I swallowed hard. " Nothing much, I'm fine."

She tilted her head. "You don't look fine."

"I said I'm fine." I brushed past her quickly. "Come on, we'll be late for class."

But I knew I wasn't fine.

Not even close, not after everything.

By the time we reached the lecture hall, the whispers had already spread like wildfire.

I slide into my usual seat, trying to ignore the eyes on me. But that didn't help, I could still feel it—their stares, their smirks.

Clara leaned in, whispering. "Okay, spill the beans. What's going on, why are people starring?"

I shook my head quickly. "I don't know either, but don't ask."

Before she could even proceed to say more, the chatter in the room slowly died down and then, footsteps.

It was him, Adrian Blackwell. My professor, the stranger I had served the night at the bar before.

He walked into the room, tall, calm as usual. He was putting on a sharp suit, and his grey eyes were unreadable.

The moment he stepped in, silence swept through the class like a wave. He set his notes on the desk and scanned the room with those piercing grey eyes.

And then... As I'd processed it. They landed on me. It was only a second, but it felt like forever.

My breath hitched and his gaze was steady, and unreadable. Then, he looked away, like nothing happened at all.

"Open your books," he said, his voice calm. "Today, we continue our discussion on Byron."

Chairs shifted, pages flipped and everyone obeyed. But my hands were stiff, my notebook sat blank in front of me and all I could hear was the whisper from earlier.

She's his daughter.

The lecture went on. He spoke about poetry, about beauty, about darkness and light. His voice was calm, steady and deep.

But every time I heard him say a word, my chest tightened. I could still feel people staring and watching me. I was starting to feel embarrassed once more.

Clara nudged me. "What's wrong with you today?" She whispered.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"You're lying."

"Clara, please." My voice cracked.

She stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. I won't push."

But the look in her eyes told me she wouldn't let go, not yet. Not after I owe her an explanation.

Halfway through the class, something happens that makes it worse.

Adrian asked a question, his eyes swept the room again. And then, just like yesterday. He called my name again.

"Emilia."

The sound of my name on his lips made my heart stop. The whole class then turned to look at me. I could feel their curiosity, their smirks.

But I swallowed hard, forcing my voice out. "I'm... yes. I think... Byron meant that beauty is not just about looks. It's about the soul. About innocence and mystery."

The class was silent. Then, Adrian gave a slow nod. "Correct."

His voice was calm, and professional. But the way he looked at me—steady, lingering—made the whispers rise again.

"She really is his favorite."

"Or something more."

My cheeks burned. I wanted to scream at them to shut up, but I couldn't.

When the lecture ended, I tried to escape quickly. But Clara followed me out, tucking my arm. "Okay, I've had enough. Now, can you explain to me what's going on between you and professor Blackwell?"

I froze, hoping she could only believe. "Nothing."

"Emilia, people are talking. I keep hearing things. Crazy things."

"Like what?" I asked, my voice shaking.

She hesitated, biting her lips. "Like... that he might be your father."

The word slammed into me like a blow.

I stopped walking. "What?"

"That's what people are saying," Clara said quickly. "I don't believe it, okay? But... I mean... Do you know who your father is?"

Her words are deep. My throat tightened, as I looked away, blinking fast. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Emilia—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" My voice was sharper than I meant.

Clara stepped back, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Okay, fine."

I stormed ahead, leaving her behind. But inside, I was breaking. I was really breaking, I wish she could understand. I wish I could wake up from this mess.

That evening, I couldn't take it anymore. I sat on my dorm bed, staring at my phone. My mother's number was on the screen.

I called, and she answered after a few rings. "Emi. How are you, sweetheart?"

Her voice was warm and familiar. I closed my eyes, my throat tight. "Mum... I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Who is my father?"

Silence.

"Emi..." She said softly.

"Don't 'Emi' me, mum" I whispered, my hands trembling. "I need to know please. Just tell me."

Her breathing was shaky. "He doesn't matter who he is. What matters is you're here, you're safe, you're mine."

"That's not an answer, mum!" My voice cracked. " Why won't you tell me? I'm your daughter and I need to know, I have all the right to."

"Because some truths are better left buried, dear," she said quickly.

Tears stung my eyes. "Do I... do I look exactly like him?"

Her smile was louder than words. But I ended the call before she could say anything. And then, I broke.

The next day came faster, and it was worse than ever.

When I walked into the lecture hall, the board had words scrawled across it in big letters:

Daddy's Girl.

Then laughter filled the room the moment I entered. My heart sank, and I grabbed the eraser, scrubbing furiously, with my hands shaking.

Someone snickered behind me. "Careful, you will make Daddy mad."

The room erupted in quiet laughter again. And then, I spun around angrily. "Shut up!"

The laughter grew, and then there was silence. Followed by footsteps.

Adrian entered the lecture hall and his grey eyes went straight to me, then to the board, where smudges still lingered. But his expression didn't change.

But I could admit that I saw the flicker. And the tension in his jaw.

"Sit down," he said, his voice low.

The class went totally silent as I sat down at my usual place, my chest heavy and my heart still racing.

The lecture began but the whispers didn't stop. But they were quieter this time. Crueler, I guess.

"Incest."

The word reached my ears again, sharp, cutting, and unbearable. My whole body went cold. And I clenched my fist under the desk, fighting the urge to scream.

And then, I looked up slowly to find Adrian's grey eyes on me. This time, they were steady and heavy. As if he knew, as if the truth was about to break