Page 69 of The Truth Between

He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of regret before he hid it behind the mask that he always wore. “No, but I want to. I want to be someone who deserves you, Iris.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. It was the kind of declaration I might have once dreamed of hearing from him if things had been different between us.

“No,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t accept your apology and I would appreciate it if you left me alone.”

As I turned to walk away, I felt his gaze on my back and I wanted to turn and look back at him, but I forced myself to keep marching forward. I needed to leave Soren in the rearview mirror if I wanted to move on with my life, and I was determined to do so.

The rest of the day passed by relatively fast. Later that evening, the quiet hum of my laptop filled my dorm room as I brought a cup of decaf coffee to my lips. I was mentally preparing to settle in for an evening of study. Despite the distractions of the day, I was determined to focus on the homework I needed to get done. I glanced at my phone to see if I had a text message from Bianca. Seeing none, I placed the screen face down on my desk before a small chime forced my eyes back to my laptop.

It was an alert, signaling that I’d gotten an email sent to my school account. I switched browsers and scanned through the list of new messages. One subject line caught my eye: “Special Lecture Series in Economics.”

Curious, I opened the email. It was an announcement for a series of guest lectures in the economics department. My eyes scanned the details until they landed on a name that made me pause—Soren’s. He was listed as one of the guest lecturers. Shock made my mouth drop open. I knew Professor Hamby had returned, so Soren’s continued involvement in the department seemed weird.

The email detailed the schedule and topics of the lectures. Soren’s session was on media economics—a direct overlap with what I’d begun focusing on at Westwick. It was almost too coincidental, and I wondered if I was being paranoid.

I leaned back in my chair as confusion swirled within me because I found myself in a conundrum. On one hand, Soren’s expertise in economics could offer valuable insights for my studies. But on the other, attending his lecture meant facing him again, something I didn’t want to do.

I closed the tab, deciding that would be enough to put the issue at hand out of my mind, but it didn’t. At least for now, I didn’t have to worry about this because the lecture was a couple of months away.

For now, I would focus on the work that I needed to get done, and Soren would just have to be placed on the back burner.

42

IRIS

My dorm room was only lit by the soft glow coming from my laptop. With the snow falling peacefully outside, it provided a beautiful, cozy atmosphere as I wrapped myself in a thick quilt and streamed a show before bed.

I tucked back a piece of my hair that really needed to see the salon behind my ear as I settled into my pillows. A couple of weeks had passed since I had last heard from Soren, and it was both a blessing and a curse. The time we spent apart had slightly changed my perspective on what happened between the two of us.

To be honest, I was surprised he was respecting my space and not trying to invade it, although every so often, I got the feeling that I was being watched but wrote it off as me being paranoid. Soren had his own business to run, as well as his dealings with the Chevaliers. How would he have the time to stalk me?

Then again, I shouldn’t underestimate him at all.

The familiar chime signaling that I’d received an email sounded, and I debated whether I wanted to pause the show I was watching to check it. I could wait, but whenever I was already on my laptop, it was super easy and quick for me to check my email. It took a couple of seconds before a small idea formed in my head. I grabbed my cell phone and checked the email from there, but I was completely confused because it didn’t make sense.

There was an email from Soren, but it wasn’t a regular email. It was marked with several layers of digital protection, basically a virtual lock that needed a key in order to open it.

A second email arrived before I could think of anything else. It contained the access code. Soren’s brief message explained that the contents of the protected email were meant solely for me. There was no way that I couldn’t open this now, so I switched to my computer, clicked on the email, and put in the code.

The email opened to reveal several attachments. The first was a couple of photographs of old, yellowed papers. It didn’t take me long to realize that they were letters written by Eddison Payne, one of the founders of the Chevaliers. My eyes quickly scanned the handwritten text, and I was drawn into the historical significance of what I was reading. Payne’s words painted a vivid picture of Margaret Turner, not just as a founder of the organization but as the driving force behind the Chevaliers. Her contributions. Her vision. It was all there in Payne’s elegant script, which was a stark contrast to the history that had been told for more than a century.

My fingers shook as I read the words in the photographs again. I hadn’t been able to find them, but at least I was able to read some of them, seeing as how I wasn’t a member of the organization. I told myself I would make sure that Gran could see this too, the next time she and I were together in a private place.

I clicked on the next attachment, a memo from Parker, to what I assumed was the Chevalier membership based on the introduction. His words slammed into me like a dump truck, even though I knew it was coming. He’d kept his word. The memo announced a groundbreaking change in the organization—for the first time in its history, the Chevaliers were allowing women to join their ranks. This monumental shift was being made in honor of Margaret Turner, recognizing her pivotal role in the Chevaliers’ formation.

As I absorbed this news, I realized what this meant, not just for the Chevaliers but for me. Soren’s decision to share this with me spoke volumes. It wasn’t just an acknowledgment of our situationship or his attempts to make amends; it was a profound gesture of respect toward my passion for justice for Margaret.

I leaned back, feeling every emotion that I could possibly feel washing over me. Soren was obviously trying to show how serious he was about us starting anew. This act showed a deep understanding of what mattered to me, and more importantly, it showed how he was changing.

But even as I recognized the significance of what he’d done, I knew that this shift in him and in the Chevaliers didn’t automatically change things. It was a beginning, perhaps, but where it would lead, I had no idea.

I closed out of the email and found the tab where I was streaming the show. I was grateful for what Soren had done, but I wasn’t ready to speak to him yet. Heck, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be.

In the two weeks following the revelation of Margaret Turner’s true role in the Chevaliers, my days were a blend of academics, trying to maintain a social life, and not having my thoughts drift back to Soren. I managed to succeed with two of those items.

Although I didn’t see him, Soren’s presence surrounded me. It was my fault that my attention outside of schoolwork returned to him often, but I couldn’t shake it. There were no more emails, no unexpected encounters. His respect for my space was evident, and it gave me the breathing room that I’d wanted, even if my thoughts always came back to him.

Once January ended and shifted into February, the date of Soren’s special lecture grew closer. I’d debated with myself about whether I was going to go or not, and I still hadn’t come to a decision. It was dangerous for me to even consider going, given the hold he had on me, so I didn’t know why I was bothering to debate this with myself.

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