Karma

SIGNY

12:20 PM

The moment our eyes meet, a cold, sinking feeling settles deep inside my chest.

For a brief second, I expect something from him—a flicker of guilt, a trace of regret, anything that resembles the man who once swore he cared about me. Instead, Mr. Gill immediately looks away. Not because he's ashamed. Not because he feels guilty. He simply refuses to meet my gaze.

The room is quiet except for the steady hum of the air conditioner overhead. Every professor seated around the long table watches me with careful, unreadable expressions. Their eyes move over me as though they're trying to decide what I am—a victim seeking justice or a student trying to destroy a respected teacher.

"Please take a seat, Miss Whitmore," Mr. Ford says gently.

I force my legs to move. They feel weak as though they could give out at any moment. The chair scrapes softly against the floor as I lower myself into the empty seat across from the panel.

A thick folder sits in the center of the table. Next to it lie several printed sheets scattered neatly, showing the photos of me and Mr. Gill—the exact images the admin from the group chat sent earlier.

Mr. Ford folds his hands together and studies me for a moment before speaking, ”Signy, we are going to question you regarding the photographs that began circulating throughout campus this morning."

I don't answer. I can't. My throat feels too tight.

Mr. Ford glances down at the documents in front of him before looking back up. "What is your relationship with Mr. Gill?"

The question hits me hard, and for a moment I can’t even think of an answer. Suddenly, every eye in the room turns toward me, all of them are waiting.

"Before she answers," he says, his voice steady and controlled, "I think I should explain my side first."

Mr. Ford nods. “Go ahead."

Mr. Gill releases a long sigh.

The sound irritates me immediately because it makes him look exhausted, burdened, and almost sympathetic. As if he's the one suffering here.

"I admit that my interactions with Signy may have crossed professional boundaries," he begins carefully. "But I want to make it clear that I never intended for things to go this far."

I stare at him in disbelief. My heart begins beating faster.

What is he saying?

"I treated her kindly because she was one of my students," he continues. "Unfortunately, she misunderstood my intentions."

The words strike me so hard that for a second I stop breathing.

My fingers tighten against the armrests of the chair.

"What?" I whisper.

The room seems to tilt slightly around me.

Mr. Gill continues speaking as though he never heard me. "She became attached. At first, I assumed it was harmless admiration. I tried to ignore it, but eventually she began pursuing me."

My chest tightens. The walls seem to inch closer with every word that leaves his mouth.

"No," I say. My voice comes out weak and shaky. "No, that's not what happened."

Mr. Gill doesn't even look in my direction. He continues, "She often waited for me after class. She constantly messaged me. She insisted on spending time with me."

Each sentence feels like another knife being driven into my chest. The lies keep coming, one after another.

I grip the edge of my chair so tightly that my knuckles ache.

"You're lying." The words come out louder this time.

Several professors exchange uncertain glances.

Mr. Gill sighs once more and shakes his head as though he's disappointed by the entire situation.

"I understand that she's upset," he says softly. "But I have a family. I would never willingly put them through something like this."

A sharp pain shoots through my chest.

A family? Now he remembers he has a family? After everything?

After every late-night conversation where he told me how unhappy he was. After every confession. Every promise. Every moment he looked me in the eyes and told me I mattered to him.

Now he's suddenly the devoted husband?

I can barely believe what I'm hearing.

Mr. Ford turns toward me. "Signy, are you saying Mr. Gill's statements are false?"

"Yes." The answer leaves my mouth instantly without hesitation and doubt. "Every single word."

For the first time since the meeting began, Mr. Gill finally looks directly at me.

Our eyes lock. I search his face for something—guilt, shame, regret, even the smallest hint that he feels remorse for what he's doing.

There is nothing.

His gaze is steady and unreadable, cold in a way that sends a chill down my spine. The man sitting across from me looks nothing like the person who once whispered promises in my ear, who claimed to care about me, who made me believe I mattered to him.

All I can see now is a man desperately trying to save himself. The most terrifying part isn't that he's lying—it's how effortlessly he's willing to sacrifice me to protect his own reputation.

If ruining my life is what it takes to save his own, he won't think twice before doing it.

“I have our exchanging of messages," I say, still looking at him. Waiting for him to show any reaction but I don't get any.

He remains calm. He's looking at me with a serious expression as if waiting for me to speak again.

I bite my lower lip so hard it almost hurts and turn toward Mr. Ford. "I can show you our messages."

Mr. Ford gives me a small nod and extends his hand. "Please."

I unlock my phone and hand it over. He takes it from me and begins scrolling through the screen, his fingers moving steadily as he checks every conversation. Everyone watches as Mr. Ford scrolls through my phone, his expression unreadable. His fingers move across the screen for several long seconds before he finally lets out a quiet sigh.

He looks up at me and returns the phone. "There's no conversation here, Signy."

My stomach twists.

"I'm not lying, Mr. Ford. Maybe you didn't search enough."

I quickly take the phone and open my messaging app. My heart pounds against my ribs as I scroll through my conversations. The blood drains from my face.

Damn. How could I forget?

I deleted everything. I was terrified that someone might get access to my phone and discover what was happening between us. So I erased every message that could expose our relationship.

My chest feels heavy. A painful lump forms in my throat, and before I can stop myself, tears begin spilling down my cheeks. I cover my face with both hands and break into sobs.

"I deleted them," I choke out between breaths. "I deleted them because I didn't want anyone to find out about us."

The room remains silent for a moment until Mr. Ford clears his throat. "But do you admit that you had a relationship with Mr. Gill?"

I wipe at my tears and nod. "Yes. I'm not the one who chased him," I continue, my voice shaking. "He was the one who came after me. He said sweet things. He made promises. He told me he didn't love his wife anymore." My voice cracks. "He said he loved me more than her."

"That's enough lying, Signy." Mr. Gill's sharp voice cuts through the room.

I immediately turn toward him. Anger burns through my chest, replacing the sadness for a brief moment.

"What?" I snap. "Why would I lie about this? You're the one lying!"

Mr. Ford clears his throat loudly before the argument can escalate. "We don't have sufficient evidence to determine which one of you is telling the truth. Because of that, the administration will discuss the situation and decide what action should be taken."

Mr. Gill stands from his chair as if none of this affects him.

"I trust your judgment,” he says and calmly shakes hands with them.

The sight makes my blood boil. I let out a disgusted scoff, push my chair back, and storm out of the detention room before anyone can stop me.

My vision stays blurred with tears as I make my way down the hallway toward Mr. Gill’s office. When I finally reach the door, I push it open and step inside, barely seeing the room through the water gathering in my eyes.

The moment I’m inside, whatever strength I was holding onto gives out completely. I collapse onto the couch as if my legs simply refuse to support me anymore.

I cry like a child who doesn’t know what else to do, letting everything spill out without trying to stop it anymore.

I gave him everything I had, and this is how he repays me—by acting like I never mattered at all, by walking away and leaving me alone to carry all the blame.

I should have known better than to believe every beautiful lie that came out of his mouth.

Fuck him.

The office door suddenly opens.

My head snaps up.

The second I see Mr. Gill walk inside, rage explodes through me. I shoot to my feet and march straight toward him. Before he can even react, my hand swings across his face.

The slap echoes loudly throughout the room. For a moment, everything goes still.

Slowly, he turns his head toward me. The red mark on his cheek stands out against his skin. His jaw tightens, and a dangerous anger flashes across his face. For a moment, he simply stares at me, his eyes burning with disbelief and fury.

"Have you lost your mind?”

"What about you?" I shout. "Why did you lie? Why are you only protecting yourself? Did you even think about us?"

Mr. Gill steps closer, then he lowers his voice into a whisper near my ear. "What do you mean? There's nothing between us, Ms. Whitmore," he says coldly.

The words hit harder than the slap I gave him.

I freeze.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. The words hit me so hard that, for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

I just stand there, frozen. Then he simply walks past me as if I mean absolutely nothing.

"Please leave my office and return to your classroom," he says casually. "If someone sees you here, they might start believing those rumors."

The audacity of his words leaves me speechless.

The sweet, caring man I thought I knew never existed. The man who whispered promises and made me feel special was nothing more than an illusion. This is who he truly is—a selfish coward who used me whenever it benefited him and discarded me the moment things became inconvenient.

But maybe this is karma. Maybe this is exactly what I deserve, because I used Cleovon.

I stayed with him. I played the part so well that even I started to forget where the act ended and where the truth was supposed to begin. I let everyone believe it was real, that what we had was something honest and steady. I acted like I was this devoted girlfriend, like I was completely in love with him—someone who would do anything, say anything, be anything just to keep him close.

But that was never the whole truth… because deep down, I thought as long as I was with Cleovon, no one at school would notice my relationship with Mr. Gill. It felt easier that way. I built this image of a “perfect couple” around us, like it could cover up everything else I was trying to keep hidden.