Campus Secret: I’m Dating My Professor

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I secretly started dating my incredibly aloof, strictly-business professor.

It was only after we got together that I realized the man was an absolute stage-five clinger. The relationship quickly became a velvet trap I could not escape, no matter how hard I tried.

Then an accident wiped his memory. Testing the waters, I leaned in and softly called him "baby" in front of everyone.

Instead of melting like he usually did, his face hardened into a scowl. "Miss Lily, there is zero room for negotiation regarding your makeup exam. Do not try to use your personal charm to take shortcuts."

Confirming Professor Stewart Wright had completely forgotten me, I was ecstatic. I practically sprinted to the nearest college bar, ready to mingle and meet some new, hot guys.

Just as I was hitting it off with a cute stranger, Stewart suddenly materialized out of nowhere. His face was thunderous, but his voice broke with pure desperation. "There were too many people on campus earlier. I had to act like that. Please, I am begging you, do not get so close to anyone else. Seeing you with him, I feel like I am literally going to die."

The eighth time I tried to break up with Stewart, his eyes immediately welled with tears.

This was a man who routinely made grad students cry in his lectures. The sudden shift in power dynamics threw me completely off balance, draining all my aggressive confidence.

"Even if you cry, we are done," I stuttered out, losing my nerve.

The man looked even more heartbroken. His thick, dark lashes clumped with moisture as heavy tears rolled down his sharp cheekbones. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my chest and rubbing against me like a stray dog.

"Baby, sweetie, please do not say those words," he mumbled against my skin. "My heart literally cannot take it."

Remembering how I always caved in the past, I forced my brain to stop thinking with my hormones. Ignoring his pathetic whimpering, I pulled out the ultimate trump card I learned from late-night soap operas.

"Let me go. I am hopelessly in love with someone else."

Stewart gave me a look that said he knew this day would come. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but the smile was pitch-black.

"Who is he? Tell me, who is the man-whore you are seeing behind my back? The senior who carried your books last week, or the jock from the basketball team?"

I decided to just roll with the lie, defending this imaginary lover with my chest. "None of your business. Whoever he is, he is better than you."

The man fell silent. His long, elegant fingers slid up my sides like nimble snakes. The cool touch of his skin made me shiver, my lips parting on a soft gasp.

Stewart took the opening, crashing his mouth down on mine. His eyes were terrifyingly dark. "It is getting late. There is nothing a good night in bed cannot fix, right?"

He kept me awake until two in the morning.

By the time I was pulled into his warm chest, I did not even have the energy to curse at him. My eyelids were practically glued shut.

His raspy, exhausted voice echoed in my ear. "Lily, abandoning a puppy is illegal, you know."

He reached over, grabbing my phone to toggle off my morning alarm. "I will excuse your morning classes tomorrow."

I had changed my lock screen passcode countless times, but Stewart always managed to unlock it without breaking a sweat.

That night, I had a long, fragmented dream, reliving all my failed breakup attempts. Every single time, the man managed to trick, guilt, or seduce me into staying.

It all started when my major's core professor had to travel abroad for a sudden conference. The department was short-staffed, so they specifically invited Stewart, a brilliant research fellow, to sit in on the last lecture to take over the curriculum.

I sat a few rows away, completely mistaking him for a student from another class. I was entirely bewitched by his untouchable, icy aura and absolute model-tier face.

Right after the lecture ended, I gathered every ounce of liquid courage in my veins and said the words I would regret for the rest of my life.

"You are incredibly gorgeous. Can I get your Insta or your number?"

Stewart looked at me with cold, unreadable eyes. "I will give it to you tomorrow."

The very next day, my untouchable campus crush walked into the lecture hall in a tailored suit, establishing himself as our new professor. He stopped right in front of my desk, his face blank while my cheeks burned crimson, and pulled up his contact QR code.

"Class representative, add me. It will make discussing the coursework easier."

One moment of bravery ruined my life.

It was not until much later that I found out Stewart originally showed up that day to reject the teaching offer in person. But he accidentally made eye contact with me while I was openly drooling over him. He changed his mind on the spot and took the job.

But finding out my situationship was actually my professor was not even the worst part.

Once we started dating in secret, I discovered that beneath his cold, ascetic exterior was an intensely clingy, obsessive boyfriend.

Without asking, he bought a luxury townhouse near campus entirely in my name. Once he coaxed me into moving in, he wanted to be glued to my hip twenty-five hours a day. He even insisted on following me into the shower.

He forced me to use his black card for everything. One time I accidentally paid for something with my own money, and he sulked for days, constantly asking if I did not need him anymore.

Another time, I sneaked out to a frat party without telling him. When I did not reply to his texts for two hours, the maniac almost called the police. When he finally caught me, he carried my drunk body to bed, silently taking off his glasses and his expensive watch.

"Baby, liars have to be punished."

Just thinking about it made my throat feel dry and sore. Completely opposite to his pristine, academic vibe, Stewart was an absolute animal behind closed doors.

When the resentment finally reached a boiling point, I mustered up my nonexistent courage and dumped him.

Except, I just could not shake him off.

I slept straight through the afternoon. Waking up, I checked our class group chat and saw an announcement. Professor Wright took a bad fall while hiking in the mountains, so our class was rescheduled.

I opened my pinned chats. Stewart's last text was sent at six in the morning.

Because of the fake lover I invented, Stewart insisted on dragging his colleagues on a spiritual hiking retreat to burn some sage and cleanse me of my "toxic karma."

Did he end up cleansing himself off a cliff? What kind of messed-up karma was that?

Since I was already committed to breaking up, I hesitated for a second before putting my phone down, refusing to text him back.

By evening, news broke that Stewart was discharged from the hospital. The diagnosis stated he suffered head trauma and might experience partial memory loss. But after his family, friends, and colleagues tested him, they realized his brain was perfectly fine.

He even scored higher on an IQ test than he did last year. The doctors found absolutely nothing wrong with his body and sent him home.

That night, fulfilling my duties as the class rep, I went to his office to drop off the final batch of assignments. I fully expected him to use his injury as an excuse to whine and beg for cuddles.

Instead, Stewart barely lifted his eyes from his laptop. His voice was freezing cold. "The grades are already finalized. You can pick up the makeup exam list on Friday."

"Oh," I nodded, feeling a bizarre knot forming in my stomach.

His attitude had completely reverted to the icy, untouchable professor I met on day one.

A wild thought struck my brain. What if the memory loss the doctors warned about was specifically about me? Since we kept our relationship strictly underground, nobody else knew we were dating, which was why everyone thought he was fine.

To test my theory, I used the noisy chatter of the neighboring cubicles as cover and leaned over his desk, whispering a soft "baby."

This was one of his mandatory conditions for keeping us a secret. Every time I dropped off homework, I had to call him baby before he would let me leave.

But this time, Stewart frowned, standing up to look down at me with pure disdain. "Miss Lily, there is absolutely no room for negotiation on your makeup exam."

The surrounding faculty members immediately shot us gossipy glances. After Stewart shot them a warning glare, they scrambled back to their paperwork.

As Hollis University's youngest genius professor, Stewart came from old money. He was notoriously sharp-tongued and unapproachable. Both students and faculty were terrified of him.

He lowered his voice, his tone mocking. "You should spend more time studying. Your personal charm will not support you taking these kinds of shortcuts."

It took my brain a second to realize he thought I was trying to seduce him for a better grade.

But this proved one thing. He genuinely did not remember me.

Because of our secret arrangement, I always kept his contact name saved as something generic. I made him delete our text history daily. Every single couple photo and video we took was locked exclusively in my phone.

To him, there was zero trace of our relationship in his life.

Did that mean my eighth breakup attempt was a total success?

Realizing this, the sting of his insult vanished, replaced by the pure joy of being single again. "You misheard me, Professor. I was just clearing my throat."

Stewart condescended to actually look me in the eye, his dark pupils suddenly shifting with an unreadable emotion.

Having explained myself, I spun around and practically skipped out of the office.

I did not notice the man staring intensely at my back. He turned to the professor at the next desk, looking genuinely confused. "Why did I agree to teach this basic undergrad class?"

The colleague replied nervously, "We have no idea. We all thought you would turn it down. You look terribly pale, Professor Wright. Are you okay?"

Stewart kept his voice flat. "I am fine. My heart is just beating too fast. It actually hurts."

"Probably just irritated by that student."

Walking out of the academic building, I immediately texted my best friend Zoe to come over to my place for a massive celebratory feast.

Thank god Stewart never let me spend his money because he was terrified I would feel burdened. The luxury townhouse, the credit cards, the sports car in the garage, everything was legally in my name.

It took Zoe less than a second to accept the fact that I was a secret millionaire.

"Lily, this giant bathtub, these floor-to-ceiling windows. Speaking from ten years of reading romance novels, this place is literally designed for aggressive bedroom activities."

I rubbed my chronically sore lower back and swiftly changed the subject. "I think we should order spicy lemon chicken tonight."

Zoe's eyes lit up. "Wait, do we have a private chef here too?"

I paused, reality hitting me. "I used to. Not anymore."

We ended up ordering a mountain of overpriced takeout. Honestly, it tasted like garbage compared to the meals Stewart used to cook for me.

After eating my weight in carbs, I checked my phone and saw a few new messages.

It was from Stewart.

Professor Wright: [Miss Lily, you left your umbrella in my office. Do you want to come get it?] [I need to lock up.]

Half an hour passed before he texted again.

Professor Wright: [Miss Lily, who are you eating dinner with? Does it really take this long?] [Whatever. I do not actually care.] [I am working overtime today, so I will be leaving late. Come get it if you have time.]

A second before Zoe leaned over to snoop, I frantically changed his contact name back to his formal title.

"Since when is Professor Wright such a chatterbox?" Zoe asked, looking completely lost.

After dating for so long, switching back to a normal student-teacher dynamic felt incredibly jarring.

I typed back a polite response: [Sorry Professor, just saw this. Are you still there? I can come grab it now.]

It was almost eleven at night. Stewart usually went back to his private lab or went straight home by now.

To my shock, he replied instantly with one word: [Yes.]

I stared at the screen, trying to formulate an excuse to grab it tomorrow.

Zoe stopped me. "Do not do that, babe. I still have to take his makeup exam. Let us go get it right now. We can bring him a hot coffee to score some brownie points. I will go with you."

I was never good at saying no, so I caved.

But the moment we reached his office door, Zoe totally chickened out. "Okay, Lily, just thinking about his scary resting bitch face is making my knees weak. You are the class rep, you go in. Give him the coffee. I will wait out here."

Before I could object, Zoe bolted down the hallway.

I pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, the lights completely died.

The campus power grid had failed again.

I fumbled in the pitch black, setting the coffee down on the nearest desk, frantically digging for my phone's flashlight. Instead, I crashed face-first into a solid wall of muscle.

Before I could lose my balance, my hands instinctively wrapped around the person's waist.

Like pure muscle memory, Stewart wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against his chest, his lips naturally brushing against the crook of my neck.

The movement was so flawless, so deeply ingrained, neither of us even thought about it.

When reality finally caught up, Stewart froze completely stiff.

Making it a million times worse, the lights snapped back on.

We stared at each other. For the first time ever, I saw genuine, raw panic cracking through his usually flawless composure.

"Sila... Professor Wright."

I almost dropped his first name. Nobody warned me how violently awkward it was to interact as strangers with someone who knew exactly what you looked like naked.

"Apologies," Stewart said, stepping back rapidly. "That was an accident."

Seeing him treat me like a biohazard triggered a sudden flashback of him acting like a giant, clingy golden retriever, constantly demanding cuddles.

It seemed like as long as I did not actively pursue him, his factory-reset personality would ensure our paths never crossed again. This was for the best. Zero risk of repeating my mistakes.

I walked over to the corner and grabbed my umbrella.

"It is not safe at night," Stewart said stiffly. "I will walk you back. As your professor, I have a duty of care."

I shook my head, keeping my answers vague. "No need. I live off-campus with someone."

"Who? A guy or a girl?"

I blinked, genuinely thinking his memory had just snapped back.

Thankfully, his tone flattened out a second later. "You do not have to answer that. I do not make a habit of prying into people's private lives."

His pink lips moved as he spoke. Even after living with him for months, looking at that face still made my brain short-circuit. Sometimes I really wanted to slap myself for being such a sucker for a pretty face.

"Goodbye, Professor." I practically ran out of the suffocating room.

Back in the office, Stewart pulled up his texts with Declan, his childhood best friend and primary doctor.

[Why does my chest physically ache the second I look at that student?]

Declan: [Then stop looking at her.]

[It hurts worse when I am not looking at her.]

Declan: [Then look at her more.]

Stewart was hovering over the block button, ready to delete this quack from his life.

Declan suddenly sent another text: [Bro, do you have a crush on her? Send a pic, let me see this goddess.]

Stewart: [You do not deserve to look at her.]

Back at the townhouse, Zoe and I curled up on the massive sofa, binging reality TV.

I was just internally celebrating how peaceful it was to watch a show without a man biting my neck and demanding attention, when Zoe suddenly jumped up.

"Wait, this makes no sense, Lily."

"What is it?" My stomach dropped, terrified she had found some leftover trace of Stewart hiding in the house.

"We are practically filthy rich right now. Why are we sitting at home eating takeout and watching TV? We are acting like lottery winners who just bought a thousand boxes of instant ramen." Zoe wiggled her eyebrows, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Let us go to a club tomorrow. Find some tragic, broken college boy and buy him an expensive drink."

"I do not know..." I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile. "I guess I should go pick out a cute dress."

Ever since I started dating Stewart, my freedom to look at attractive men was instantly revoked. If I stared at the cute barista at the coffee shop for more than two seconds, he would spiral into a jealous panic.

"Baby, do you like younger guys now? I am four years older than you. Do you think I am getting old and ugly?"

I would genuinely try to comfort him. "But you are so handsome."

Stewart would immediately turn around, buy a premium membership at a med-spa, and secretly write in his diary: [This face is my only leverage. There are too many man-whores out there trying to steal my wife. I need to keep her on a tighter leash.]

When we arrived at the most exclusive club in the city, Zoe pulled out a breath spray. "Want some, babe?"

I shook my head immediately. Because I loved strawberries, Stewart exclusively used strawberry-flavored everything. I practically had PTSD whenever I smelled it now.

Zoe dragged me through the sweaty crowd straight to the front of the stage to watch the live band. The lead singer had these gorgeous, flirty eyes. He kept looking my way, winking at me throughout the set.

When the song ended, the guy unstrapped his guitar and walked straight up to me through the deafening cheers.

"You guys sounded great," I offered awkwardly.

"You completely ignored me up there, pretty girl," he teased, flashing two deep dimples. He had that perfect, golden-retriever boy-next-door energy. It was contagious.

I was just about to reply when a heavy, chilling sensation crept down my spine.

Turning around, I found Stewart staring at me, his gaze dark and suffocating.