I flash-married the brilliant, aloof professor I’ve known since we were kids. She practically lives in her lab, never coming home. So when the end-of-term faculty reviews came around, I decided to get some petty revenge. Anonymously, of course. 【Don't be fooled by that slim waist and killer body. She's totally frigid.】 【Seriously. The girl at the flower shop downstairs has more warmth.】 Except my cover got blown. That very night, she cornered me in the bathroom. "Frigid, am I?" "Louise, baby, I was wrong..." 1 As the semester drew to a close, Blackwood University launched its new faculty review platform. It was open to everyone, and you could post anonymously. 【OMG, Professor Reed, I LOVE YOU!】 【So gorgeous, and that body... when she wore glasses last week, I died! A total goddess!】 【I'm single, she's single. Aren't we a match made in heaven?】 Within an hour of going live, the platform was flooded with over a thousand comments for her. Dr. Louise Reed’s popularity shot straight to number one. I was huddled under my covers, scrolling through my phone, the screen casting a sickly green glow over my face. I could feel the jealousy churning in my gut. A soft sound came from outside my room. Louise must be home. This late again! Is quantum mechanics really that much more interesting than her own husband? Fuming, I tapped out two comments of my own: 【Don't be fooled by that slim waist and killer body. She's totally frigid.】 【Seriously. The girl at the flower shop downstairs has more warmth.】 Just then, the door to my room opened with a faint click. I slammed my phone shut, squeezed my eyes closed, and pretended to be asleep. The intruder seemed to stand by my bed for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. Then, just as quietly, the door clicked shut again. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Strange. Does she check on me like this every night after I’ve fallen asleep? 2 My name is Leo Wallace, an associate professor at Blackwood University. A month ago, I got flash-married. My bride was Louise Reed, a woman I’ve known for over twenty years. She’s been the brilliant, intimidating shadow hanging over my entire life. A child prodigy who skipped grades, won national science competitions, and got a full scholarship to MIT before I was even out of middle school. By the time I was slogging through high school, she was already in a combined PhD program. She was the first person I'd ever met who'd done their undergrad, master's, and PhD all at the same elite institution. Our marriage was sealed over a single dinner between our two families. My parents were over the moon about getting such an exceptional daughter-in-law. By all accounts, I was the one who'd lucked out. The strangest part? Louise actually agreed. But she had conditions. As our parents hammered out the details, Louise lifted her cool, indifferent eyes and gave me a clinical once-over. I’d been sneaking glances at her, and our eyes met for a split second. My heart leaped into my throat, and I straightened my back instinctively. "Fine," she said, her voice even. "But no wedding for now. And... we keep it private." A flicker of joy ignited in me when she said yes, only to be immediately extinguished by her terms. It sank to the pit of my stomach. If you despise me so much, why even agree to this? I shot her a confused look, but our eyes collided again. I quickly looked away, a fresh wave of panic washing over me. What if she mistook my confusion for displeasure and called the whole thing off? I felt like a thief, stealing the title of ‘husband’ first. I’d figure out the rest later. Because the pathetic truth was, I was hopelessly in love with her. 3 Everyone at Blackwood University knew that Louise Reed and I did not get along. To put it mildly, we were academic rivals of the highest order. Her domain was theoretical physics; mine was experimental. She was a full professor; I was still an associate. With her razor-sharp tongue, she could eviscerate my field of research, making it sound like I did nothing but trudge along behind her, mindlessly verifying her brilliant theories. "You'll always just be following in my footsteps." That was her assessment of my academic career. It felt more like a verdict on my entire life. And yet, after every bitter argument, a few days would pass, I’d see her face, and completely forget what we were even fighting about. I’d trail after her like a whipped puppy, only to get drawn into another debate I couldn't win, leaving me seething with impotent rage. The department head, fearing we’d eventually come to blows, had strategically placed our offices at opposite ends of the hallway, separated by an entire staircase. If it weren't for the occasional faculty meeting, we’d never have to see each other. I just never imagined that after moving into our new home, we’d see each other even less. The house, conveniently located near campus, was a wedding gift from our families, fully furnished and ready. We moved in together. In the master bedroom, the bed was made up with a ridiculously ornate red satin bedding set, the kind embroidered with swans or something equally cliché. It was so gaudy it made my ears burn. I stared at the matching slippers on the floor, avoiding her gaze. Then, Louise's calm voice cut through the silence. "I'll take the master. You can have any of the other rooms." My heart plummeted. "We're married," I muttered under my breath, my voice laced with disappointment. "What are you so afraid of? That I'm going to do something to you?" "What was that?" Louise asked, not having caught my words. "Nothing," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just said it's a good thing this house has so many rooms, or we'd be in real trouble." She was silent for a half-second before her voice came out, low and tight. "Leo, back at that dinner, when our parents were deciding everything... you never said a word. So, what was your stance? Were you for it, or against it?" My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat I was sure she could hear. I shot a panicked glance at her, terrified she'd sense my turmoil. After a long pause, I managed to say, "In that situation... did it look like I had any say in the matter?" I couldn't meet her eyes, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. I heard her jaw tighten. "Fine." With that, she pushed open the master bedroom door, and it slammed shut with a deafening bang. Leaving me standing alone on the other side. Was she... angry? 4 I chose the bedroom right next to the master suite. In the month since we'd gotten our marriage license, the only time I'd seen Louise was the day we moved in. We saw each other less now than we did before we were married. My mornings started after she’d already left for the university. During the day, we were like two warring kings in the same castle, never crossing paths. And at night, she’d be holed up in her lab, wrestling with the mysteries of quantum mechanics. By the time she came home, I'd long since been asleep. She was a ghost in our own home, and I was too stubborn to reach out. It was a silent, childish standoff—no contact, no communication. Honestly, the cute, bubbly girl who worked at the flower shop downstairs gave me more emotional fulfillment than my own wife. At least her flowers were genuinely beautiful. 5 My internal clock woke me at seven a.m. sharp. As expected, Louise’s room was empty. On my way to campus, I couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at me. I’d catch them out of the corner of my eye, their gazes lingering a moment too long. It was unnerving. I turned to look, and a group of students—they looked like physics majors—quickly ducked their heads, whispering and snickering as they scurried away. The strange looks continued all the way to my lab. My colleagues were grinning at me, a mischievous glint in their eyes. Professor Miller from the lab next door came over, clutching his thermos. "Leo, my boy, you've really done it this time!" he said, a wide smile splitting his face. "Well, you know," I said, puffing out my chest. I'd just had a paper published in a major journal, and the impact factor was something to be proud of. Miller chuckled. "You should have seen the look on Professor Reed's face when she came in this morning. It was black as thunder." "What? She was jealous?" I was floored. Louise was the queen of publications; you could probably wallpaper the physics building with her papers. Why would she be jealous of me? Miller adjusted his glasses. "She's a competitive woman, you know that. Especially when it comes to you!" I started to wonder if my paper contained some groundbreaking discovery I’d overlooked, something that had truly rattled her. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't worry. If she tries to hurt you, I'll call the cops for you." "Huh? It won't come to that, will it?" I was dumbfounded. Even at the height of our worst arguments, Louise had never laid a hand on me. He nodded gravely. "Of course! You called her frigid and said she's worse than the girl from the flower shop. How could she not take that as a declaration of war?" "Ah." A cold, dawning horror washed over me. I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. I fumbled for my phone and pulled up the review platform. There, on the crisp white screen, in bold black letters where the anonymous username should have been, it said: 【Leo Wallace】. 6 I grabbed my bag. I shot a quick text to my TA, telling him to cover my undergraduate lecture. Clutching my belongings, I made a break for the stairwell at my end of the hall. I couldn't believe it. How could I have made such a stupid mistake? Forgetting to post anonymously when I was trash-talking Louise? I deserved whatever was coming to me. The stairwell was dim, the motion-sensor lights notoriously unreliable, plunging me into near-total darkness. I was staring down at my phone, not watching where I was going, when my foot missed a step. I pitched forward, hurtling into the blackness. I collided with someone who was coming up around the landing. The impact was surprisingly soft. They smelled incredible. Even in that brief, chaotic moment, I could tell they were in amazing shape. There was a hint of familiarity to them, too. We have someone this hot in our department? "Sorry about that! Thanks!" I said, steadying myself. But instead of letting go, the person grabbed my arm and pressed me against the wall. The force wasn't rough, but it was so unexpected that I stumbled back, my body flush against the cool concrete. As their face drew closer, my eyes adjusted to the gloom. My brain short-circuited. Every alarm bell in my head started screaming. It was Louise. Her eyes were blazing with fury, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Leo. Have I been too lenient with you?" "Lenient? No, not at all!" I said, playing dumb. "What's this about you and the flower shop girl?" she asked, her voice tight with anger. Wait, that's what she's focused on? A tiny, hopeful spark ignited in the darkness of my panic. I looked up at her, my heart starting to race with a different kind of emotion. "Louise? Where are you?" A smooth, deep male voice echoed up from the bottom of the stairwell. My heart gave a painful lurch. I followed the sound and saw a tall, slender man with a refined, artistic air making his way slowly up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. It was Nathan Vance. The moment he saw us, Louise shoved me away. It was a frantic, reflexive movement, as if she were flinging away something dirty she’d accidentally touched. She pushed me. My back only brushed lightly against the wall, but a sharp pain shot through my entire body. What was she so afraid of? 7 As Nathan reached our landing, the faint light caught our faces. He was using a single crutch. His eyes flickered over my face for a second before a charming smile spread across his lips. "Louise, darling, don't be angry. Leo was just teasing you. You know how easily he gets flustered." Louise’s gaze never left Nathan’s face. Nathan Vance was a dance instructor in the arts department, a rising star in the dance world. He had to have heard about my disastrous comment on the review platform. This was a private matter between my wife and me, yet here he was, swooping in to defend me as if he were her closest confidant. Were we even that close? I stared at Louise, waiting for her reaction. "Hmph. I can't be bothered," she said, her voice low. She went along with Nathan’s excuse, and with her words, my heart sank a little deeper. Louise shot me a sideways glance, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive smile. "So childish." My throat felt raw. I changed the subject. "Nathan, what happened to your leg?" "Sprained my ankle during rehearsal," he said, his handsome brow furrowed in a mask of stoic pain. "Still hurts a bit." Louise’s own brow furrowed in concern. "I told you to wait for me downstairs. Why did you come up?" "Oh, Louise," Nathan said with a gentle smile. "I was hoping I could rest in your office for a bit." I rolled my eyes so hard I’m surprised they didn’t get stuck. He managed to climb three flights of stairs on that "sprained" ankle? Give it five more minutes and he’d be miraculously healed. "Alright, come on then," Louise sighed, her voice softening with resignation. "Do you want some coffee?" She didn't spare me another glance. She just turned and helped Nathan the rest of the way up the stairs, heading toward her office. The sight of them, him leaning on her, her supporting him, was like a perfectly composed photograph. Nathan, the sophisticated, mature artist. And me? The childish fool. Clearly, I was no match for her composure. 8 Nathan, Louise, and I had all known each other since we were kids. His father was a minor shareholder on the board of her family's corporation. But Louise’s grandfather had always been fond of Nathan, viewing him as a potential grandson-in-law. So, Nathan’s parents raised him with the specific goal of one day marrying into Louise’s family. The two of them had always been closer. While my parents were using Louise as the golden standard to push me through a grueling gauntlet of cram schools, competitions, and exams that left me breathless, Nathan was learning piano, ballet, and calligraphy. He cultivated an air of refined elegance, an artist to his core. And he was genuinely talented, winning international awards for his solo dance choreographies and amassing a legion of online fans. He'd always positioned himself as Louise’s closest male friend, her platonic soulmate. He probably had no idea that I had intercepted his grand prize. I used to envy his life. Louise was always gentle and kind to Nathan. But the moment she saw me, her brow would furrow, and she'd find a million things to criticize. Marrying me must have been a huge sacrifice for her. 9 Right before my last class of the day, a message from Louise lit up my phone: 【We're talking tonight. You're going to explain to me exactly what you mean by 'frigid'.】 My hand trembled, and the phone nearly flew out of my grasp. What do I do? How can I possibly go home now? I’d be walking into a death trap. I spent the last few minutes of my lecture in a daze, barely aware of the words coming out of my mouth. Terrified, I accepted an invitation to a small get-together with a few colleagues from the physics department. My plan was to use it as an excuse to get home late. Maybe with a little liquid courage, I’d be brave enough to face her. I never, ever expected to see Louise at the same gathering. Professor Miller had invited me. Someone else had invited her. Clearly, they hadn’t coordinated. The moment we locked eyes across the private room of the Japanese restaurant, the air crackled with a palpable, suffocating awkwardness. Our colleagues looked like they wanted to bolt. I grabbed Professor Miller’s arm, hissing, "You didn't tell me she was coming!" "It's all Professor Thorne's fault!" he whimpered, his face a mask of despair. When we sat down, I made sure to take the seat furthest from Louise. One of our colleagues, trying to break the tension, asked with a laugh, "Professor Reed, you never come to these things. What brings you out tonight?" Louise flashed a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Just felt like joining the fun." Her gaze, sharp and meaningful, landed directly on me. "After all," she continued, drawing out each word, "it's not like there's anyone waiting at home." I coughed, pretending I hadn't seen her pointed stare. Everyone tacitly avoided the topic of our rivalry. But after a few rounds of drinks, things inevitably got messy. Dinner wound down, and the group decided to move on to a karaoke bar for round two. I raised my hand, announcing I was ready to head home. To my horror, Louise spoke up at the same time. "I'm a bit tired, too." I panicked. Her next words would be "I'm going home too," and that would be it. Here, surrounded by people, a direct confrontation was unlikely. But at home, just the two of us? I didn't stand a chance. "On second thought," I said quickly, "I think I'll hang out with you guys a little longer." Our colleagues howled their off-key songs while Louise and I occupied opposite ends of the long sofa, a silent buffer of people between us. After an hour of terrible singing, the novelty wore off, and someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. A group of middle-aged professors roared with excitement around an empty beer bottle. The bottle spun, slowing to a stop, its neck pointing directly at Louise. Before anyone could even ask, she said, "Truth." Professor Thorne thought for a moment. "Professor Reed, do you have a boyfriend?" A wave of knowing smiles passed through our colleagues. They all knew that Louise, the untouchable ice queen of the department, kept everyone at arm's length—except for Nathan Vance from the arts department. The entire campus assumed they were in a "will-they-won't-they" romance. Louise looked up, her eyes shining in the dim, colorful lights of the karaoke room. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, as if sparked by a happy memory. She parted her lips and said, "No. But there is a guy I have a crush on." A chorus of whoops and hollers erupted. Someone was on the verge of shouting Nathan’s name. Beside me, Professor Miller whispered excitedly, "I knew it! My ship is sailing!" I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. So that’s what it looked like when she smiled for real. It was because she was thinking of Nathan. And what did that make me? 10 Even though the bottle never landed on me, I drank anyway, matching every "dare" and "truth" with another glass of beer. One by one, the beers went down, until the world blurred and I could no longer make out Louise's face across the room. Good. If I couldn’t see her, I couldn't be tormented by her. But why, even in my drunken haze, did her face still haunt my dreams? By the end of the night, I was completely gone, my soul having ascended to another plane. I have no memory of how I got home. Through a thick fog, I heard Louise's voice, flat and detached. "I live near him. I'll take him home." Someone else said something I couldn't catch. A cold laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not that petty. He'll live." ... Later, I felt a warm, damp cloth wiping my face. The sensation brought me back to a sliver of consciousness. I cracked my eyes open. In the soft, golden glow of the lamp, Louise’s beautiful, delicate features were softened, making her look breathtakingly gentle. She looked exactly like the Louise from my dreams. See? I thought. She’s so much nicer in dreams. My hand moved on its own, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Who's better looking," I slurred, "me or Nathan?" Louise arched an eyebrow. "What a ridiculous question." "You like him that much, huh?" She fell silent for a moment, then asked in a low voice, "Who told you that?" She was afraid. Afraid I knew about them and would tell her parents. Bolstered by alcohol, a surge of recklessness washed over me. "Give me a kiss," I demanded, "and I won't tell your mom and dad." Under the soft lamplight, her expression was so unnervingly calm it made me want to run. The booze had ignited a fire in me. I pushed myself up, grabbed the back of her head with both hands, and pulled her down, tilting my own head up to meet her lips. The instant my lips brushed against hers, a powerful force shoved me backward. I landed hard on the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me. The ceiling fan spun wildly above me, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. Louise’s voice, flat and laced with disgust, cut through the haze. "Leo, do you have any idea what you're doing?" A volatile mix of ice and fire churned in my chest. My brain stalled for a half-second before I scrambled off the bed and lurched toward the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. The bitter, acidic bile burned my throat. My stomach cramped painfully. My eyes were red, my face streaked with tears. Perfect. Now she wouldn't know that the tears weren't just from being sick. I heard footsteps approach. A warm hand gently rubbed my back. It was Louise. I wanted to ask her if this was how she took care of Nathan when he was drunk. But I had no strength left to speak. I slumped to the floor and passed out. In that final moment before darkness took me, a single, lucid thought fought its way through the fog. In that split second, I finally understood why I was in so much pain. It wasn't just the hangover. It was because I was completely, hopelessly in love with Louise.
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