Page 53 of Forbidden Professor

Carter reaches into his backpack, pulling out a small packet of paper and a pen.

“That’s one of the reasons I brought you here. I figured you had some pent-up feelings that needed releasing.”

I look at him, surprised. “Oh?”

“This helped me after my dad died,” he says. He hands me a delicate sheet of rice paper. “Write down your hopes, your dreams, whatever you’re carrying. Then fold it into an airplane and let it fly.”

I take the paper, its texture soft against my fingertips. “What should I write?”

“Anything,” Carter says. “There’s no wrong answer.”

I pick up the pen, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. As I write, each word feels like a release. The tightness in my chest starts to ease. When I finish, I watch Carter fold his paper with care, his large hands moving deftly.

“It’s a way to let go of pain and still look forward,” he explains.

Together, we walk to the edge of the cliff. The wind whips my hair as we stand side by side.

“Ready?” Carter asks, his voice calm.

I nod. We pull back our arms and release the planes. They catch the breeze and soar out over the Sound. My eyes follow them as they glide toward the water below.

“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.

“So are you,” Carter murmurs.

I turn to him, my heart pounding. His eyes meet mine, steady and sure. For a moment, the world falls away.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice trembling. “For this.”

He squeezes my hand gently. “Eve, you don’t have to thank me. Being here with you means everything.”

The warmth spreading through me is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s more than gratitude. It’s something deeper, something I can’t ignore.

I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. “I’ve been scared to let people in,” I admit. “But with you, it feels different. It feels safe.”

Carter’s hand tightens on mine. “You make me feel the same way, Eve. Like I can finally be myself.”

The sun dips lower, painting the sky in deep purples and blues. The stars begin to emerge. We sit in silence, watching as the world shifts into night. The moment feels endless, yet fragile, like something I need to hold onto but can’t.

As we leave the ridge and head back to the ferry, the air between us hums with unspoken words. On the ferry ride back, we sit by the railing again, but the mood has shifted. The excitement from earlier is gone, replaced by a quiet tension.

“Did you have a good time?” Carter asks after a long pause.

“I did,” I say honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You seemed like you needed it,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile.

“I did,” I admit. “More than I realized.”

The ferry’s engine hums softly, blending with the sound of the waves. I turn to look at the water, the city lights growing closer.

“It feels different now,” I say quietly.

“What does?” Carter asks, his voice cautious.

I hesitate. “Everything. Like something shifted.”

Carter doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is low. “Maybe it has.”

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