Chapter 8 8
POV Katherine
Andrew left early, shortly after six in the morning.
I was already awake when he came out of the shower and put on the white shirt that always smelled like his cologne. I watched him from the doorway, sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes as if he were already somewhere else. Somewhere I didn’t exist.
I approached quietly and handed him his coat.
“Have a good trip,” I whispered.
“Take care of yourself,” was all he said.
And then—the slam of the door.
I stood there for a few seconds, listening to the echo of his absence, until I forced myself to move. I couldn’t go back to bed. Not today. Today, something new was beginning.
At nine, Elliot would arrive.
I had to get ready. And prepare the house.
I made coffee, tidied the kitchen, opened the windows to let the air in. The curtains swayed softly with the morning breeze. I ran a hand through my damp hair and looked around as if seeing the space for the first time. The same place where I’d spent so many hours locked in, still, lost.
Now, for some reason, I had something to do.
In two days, I’d gone from not wanting to get out of bed to preparing my home for a student. It wasn’t a real job—not a school or a classroom with desks and schedules—but it was something. A task. A purpose. A beginning.
I went to the guest room, the one we almost never used, and started turning it into a study. I moved the table toward the window, dusted the shelf, placed a few books from the hallway on it. I found new notebooks, pens, my planner.
And as I arranged everything, the ridiculous scene from yesterday came back to me—Elliot pretending to be hurt, collapsed on my porch, forcing me to come outside. At the time it had seemed reckless, unforgivable. But now… I smiled.
Where had he found that kind of audacity?
He didn’t look the part. His voice was polite, his gaze calm, his manners composed. But that stunt revealed something else. A sharp mind. Someone who didn’t give up easily. Or maybe… someone who knew exactly how to get what he wanted.
At nine o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang.
I took a deep breath, smoothed the beige dress I’d chosen that morning, and went to open it.
There stood my new student—
With a bouquet of white roses in one hand… and that faint, playful smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ellis,” he said with a small nod. “These are for you. An apology… for scaring you yesterday.”
I accepted the flowers, half surprised, half amused. It felt like a peace offering.
“White roses…” I murmured. “Classic. But effective.”
“I was hoping they would be.”
“They are,” I replied faster than I expected. I let him in and went to fetch a vase. “Make yourself comfortable. The study’s at the end of the hallway. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do.”
“If you prepared it, I’m sure it’s more than enough.”
I placed the flowers in water on a table by the window and came back to him. I felt calmer than I’d imagined. More at ease. Talking to Elliot was easy. And that, coming from me, was a miracle.
“I was thinking we could work three hours in the morning, take a break for lunch, and then another two until three,” he said, as if he already had everything planned. “What do you think?”
“Five hours?” I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “That’s almost a full workday.”
“Do you have something better to do? I mean—if you have other plans.”
The question was direct but not mocking. As if he genuinely wanted to know.
“No,” I admitted after a pause. “But still, that’s a lot. You might end up exhausted—it’s better to start gradually.”
“I won’t waste it,” he said. Then added, “I can pay you.”
“That’s not necessary,” I replied immediately, raising a hand. “I’m not doing this for money. It’s a favor—for the company… and for my husband’s boss.”
“I don’t want to take advantage, especially if it’s so many hours. It seems only fair you’re compensated for your time and your knowledge.”
“That won’t be necessary, Elliot,” I said firmly. “But if you insist too much, I might decide not to teach you at all.”
“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll accept your terms. Though I can’t promise I won’t offer again. I’m persistent.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said, crossing my arms lightly. “Come on, let’s start.”
“You haven’t told me if you accept the schedule I proposed.”
“Don’t you think that’s too many hours for you? Someone your age probably has better things to do than spend all that time with me.”
“It’ll be a pleasant routine. I’m determined to improve—the more hours, the better.”
And so we began.
The first three hours were intense.
Elliot had a peculiar way of looking whenever I explained something—focused, attentive. He didn’t just listen. He absorbed. He analyzed. As if everything I said might become a code to decode me entirely.
I explained the structure of an argumentative essay, we went over a few texts, and I gave him some exercises in analysis.
He responded quickly. Asked sharp questions. He was bright… and perceptive.
“We can stop here,” I said, checking the clock. “It’s one o’clock.”
“Shall we have lunch together?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I suppose so, so we don’t waste much time. But I haven’t had a chance to prepare anything.”
“No need. We’ll go out to eat. Sound good?”
“Only if you let me pay.”
“On top of not paying you, I’m supposed to take your money too?” We both laughed suddenly. “Let me treat you—this one, and every lunch after.”
I had no choice but to accept.
He packed his things neatly while I went to grab my purse.
When we reached the car, he opened the door for me. I already knew the interior from our… previous incident. I glanced around before he got in; it was spotless.
“Where are we going?” I asked, hearing the engine start.
“To a place I know you’ll like.”