His Student

My mother collapsed. Suddenly, violently.
Before they rushed her into surgery, she clutched my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Anna,” she rasped, her voice thin as paper. “Get Justin. You have to get Justin here. There’s something I need to tell him.”
I called Justin again and again from the sterile silence of the hospital waiting room, each unanswered ring echoing the frantic beat of my own heart. The calls went straight to voicemail, one after the other, a relentless digital void.
I was still trying when the doctor emerged from the operating room, his face a mask of grim sympathy. He walked toward me and gave me that slow, soul-crushing shake of the head.
The tightly wound spring inside me snapped.
Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a call back from Justin's number. A woman’s voice, sweet and cloying, answered. It was Nina.
“Anna? The professor was helping me out with my parents… they were driving me crazy about settling down, and he had a little too much to drink.” Her voice was laced with a triumphant little giggle. “If you need something, you can just tell me.”
I stared through the glass at the still, cold form on the gurney that was once my mother. My voice was ice.
“Tell Justin Hayes that my mother is dead. And if he still wants that lab equipment, he can come to the hospital and get it.”
But Justin never showed. Not even for the funeral.

1
It took only three days to go from my mother’s death to her burial. Three short, agonizing days, and in all that time, Justin was a ghost.
Relatives murmured their disapproval, their whispers like wasps buzzing at the edge of my hearing. I pretended not to notice. But I knew. This hollow marriage, this charade I’d been living with Justin, had finally reached its end.
After drafting the divorce papers, I tried to reach him again. As always, the calls went unanswered.
He’s probably busy, I told myself, the old habit of making excuses for him dying hard.
Then I pushed open the front door to our house and saw them. A pair of his polished leather dress shoes, and right beside them, a pair of delicate white sneakers.
Not mine.
I slipped off my own shoes and stepped inside, my heart a cold stone in my chest. And there he was—Justin, who’d been ghosting me for two weeks—with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, meticulously scrubbing a pair of lace panties, stained crimson, in the bathroom sink.
Also not mine.
He looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but his hands never stopped their rhythmic work in the soapy water. “Anna. You’re home early. I thought you were at the hospital with your mom.”
My mom? The woman I had just buried? Where was I supposed to be with her, heaven or hell?
I had imagined this confrontation a hundred times. I’d pictured screaming, crying, a raw, cathartic explosion of pain. Instead, a strange calm washed over me. I felt so empty I didn’t even have the energy to ask him why he was washing another woman’s underwear.
He followed my gaze to the sink. “Nina had a little accident,” he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “You know how it is. A girl shouldn’t have to deal with cold water right now.”
No hot water in the house, then? I thought numbly.
“Right,” I managed. “Finish up. We need to talk.”
His eyes lit up, a sudden, greedy spark. “Is the new lab equipment in? Fantastic. I desperately need it for the next phase.” He was already moving past me, already in his own world. “Just have your people deliver it straight to my university lab, Anna. Someone will be there to sign for it. With that shipment, the project will move ahead twice as fast.”
Justin was a man possessed by his work. If you were to rank the loves of his life, I used to be number one. Then his research took the top spot. But now… now I wasn’t sure I even made the list. Not when his brilliant little apprentice could get a tenured professor to personally handwash her bloody underwear.
A sugary voice drifted from the other room. “Professor? Are you done yet? I think there’s a problem with the new serum… all your little snakey-wakes are dead!”
Snakes?
A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. I shoved past him and sprinted to the small, temperature-controlled room where I kept my pets.
Nina was there, wearing nothing but one of Justin’s oversized white button-downs, her long, pale legs on full display. She was chewing on a fingernail, frowning at one of the glass terrariums. In her other hand, she held a syringe, a single drop of clear liquid clinging to its tip.
Inside the tank, my beautiful, vibrant collection of pet snakes—creatures I had nurtured for years—were coiled in the corners, twitching feebly.
“What did you do to them?” I shoved her away from the glass, my voice a ragged whisper.
She stumbled back, clutching her chest in mock horror, a perfectly innocent smile playing on her lips. “Whoa, Anna, you’re so aggressive. I was just testing the new serum. I had to be sure it worked.”
The serum? My gaze flew back to the terrarium. In a final, gruesome ballet, the snakes began to convulse violently, white foam bubbling from their mouths before they went rigid.
They were dead.
The innocent, malicious smile on Nina’s face broke something inside me. My hand flew up, and the sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the small room.
Justin rushed in at the sound, just in time to see Nina clutching her face, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
“Professor,” she sobbed, “Anna hit me. It hurts so much.”
He swept her into his arms, his face a thundercloud of disappointment directed at me. “Anna, what the hell? Nina is just a student. Can’t you talk things out? Why would you hit her? When did you become so irrational?”
Irrational? Me?
My finger trembled as I pointed at the glass tank. “She killed them! She killed the pets I’ve had for five years! Do you have any idea how much they meant to me? A slap is the least she deserves!” I rounded on him, my voice rising. “And you! What is she even doing in our house, Justin?”
Nina was his graduate student. She called him “Professor” with a familiarity that bordered on intimacy, but she never, ever called me Mrs. Hayes. She was always texting him, video-calling at all hours, angling the camera just so, her voice a breathy purr full of not-so-subtle suggestions. Her pathetic little game was transparent.
I’d warned Justin about her. I told him to assign her to another mentor.
He’d just laughed, patting my arm condescendingly. “Don’t be so sensitive, Anna. She’s just a student. You don’t have to be jealous of everyone.”
I’d trusted him. I knew his parents’ bitter divorce when he was five had left him with a desperate need for loyalty and stability. I believed he would never cross that line.
And my reward for that trust? My mother died without seeing him, and my beloved pets were now lifeless props for his little protégé’s experiment.
Justin peered into the terrarium, his expression serious. He knew how precious these snakes were. I’d had them imported from all over the world, rare and delicate breeds. He knew the painstaking care I poured into them. Now, it was all gone, erased by one careless girl with a syringe.
Nina’s shoulders shook with crocodile tears. “Professor, I didn’t know they belonged to Anna. I thought they were for your research,” she whimpered. “I just wanted to make sure the serum was a success before the press conference. I thought they were like… like the lab rats. I didn't do it on purpose. Please don’t be mad at me.”
Her voice grew smaller, her lip trembling as she bit it, eyes wide and red. She looked like a broken doll. It didn’t stir an ounce of pity in me; it only fed the inferno raging in my chest.
“Not on purpose?” I scoffed. “Anyone with a shred of decency knows you don’t touch things that aren’t yours in someone else’s home. You don’t go into rooms you weren’t invited into. You’re what, twenty-five? Don’t tell me you don’t know basic manners, Nina.”
She clutched the hem of his shirt, the fabric barely covering her, and looked up at Justin for salvation. “Professor, I really didn’t mean to…”
“That’s enough.” Justin put a hand on my shoulder, his touch heavy and placating. “Anna, it’s done. What do you want from her? She said it was an accident. They’re just snakes. I’ll buy you new ones.” He looked at me, a flash of genuine annoyance in his eyes. “You’re the CEO of a major company. You manage thousands of people. Don’t you think you could show a little perspective here?”
I flinched. Even though I thought I had no expectations left, the weariness in his voice, the undisguised irritation, still managed to cut me. Childhood friends, seven years of marriage, and I meant less to him than his student.
It was pathetic.
Wiping a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, I pulled the folded divorce papers from my purse and held them out to him.
“Justin, I want a divorce.”
He stared at me, then at the papers, his mind clearly struggling to connect the two. He snatched the document and read it, then read it again, as if the words were in a foreign language.
When he finally accepted I wasn’t joking, the carefully constructed mask of composure on his face cracked.
“Anna, are you serious?” he hissed. “You want to divorce me because Nina accidentally killed a few of your snakes? Have you lost your mind? Your mother is still in the hospital! You want to do this now? Are you trying to give her a heart attack?”
He went on, his voice a torrent of accusations. “They were just snakes! If you love them so much, I’ll buy you ten more, twenty more! You can just start over! Divorce… how can you even say that word?”
He laid it on so thick, you’d think I was the one who was being completely unreasonable.
But this wasn't a debate, Justin. The one who talks the loudest isn't always right.
I swiftly signed my name on the line and pushed the papers back toward him. “Sign it. It’ll be much uglier if we drag this through the courts.”
My phone rang. A friend. I answered, walking upstairs to get away from him. Her kind words were a balm on my raw nerves. By the time I came back down, Justin was gone. The divorce agreement was ripped to shreds in the bottom of the trash can.
The bodies of my snakes were gone, too. No doubt taken by the research fanatic for dissection.
On the table sat a small, elegant gift bag. Inside was a designer necklace from last season’s collection.
My vision darkened. Justin used to love giving me gifts, things he’d spent weeks picking out, things that showed he knew me. Ever since Nina appeared, they’d been replaced by expensive, thoughtless trinkets. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces… my jewelry box was overflowing with them. Each one was a monument to another lie, another betrayal. The more expensive the gift, the guiltier he felt.
And every time before, I had chosen to forgive him.
I always went back to that one night, years ago, when I saw a crack in his carefully built armor. He’d looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable, and whispered, “Don’t pity me, Anna. Love me.”
It felt like yesterday. That fragile boy was still lodged in my heart, a ghost I felt compelled to protect. It was for him that I forgave Justin for forgetting our fifth anniversary to go stargazing with Nina. For him, I forgave Justin for walking out in the middle of my appendicitis surgery because Nina called him in a panic.
I had forgiven him so many times.
This time, I was done.
The next morning, I told my assistant to contact my lawyer and file for divorce. She paused for a fraction of a second but asked no questions. Instead, she said, “Ma’am, about that new lab equipment… should we still have it sent to Professor Hayes’s research facility?”
For years, any new, cutting-edge equipment my company acquired went straight to Justin. But not this time.
“No. Send it all to Brookhaven General.” The hospital's dean, Dean Evans, had been a great help while my mother was sick. He’d mentioned needing a new suite of equipment. This would be a good way to repay his kindness.
A series of texts buzzed on my phone. It was an old friend.
“Anna, when did you and Justin split?”
“I’m at a friend’s wedding, and I just saw him with some girl who’s telling her whole family he’s her boyfriend.”
“Look. They’re holding hands and everything. When did this happen? He moves fast.”
She sent a short video. It was a wedding reception, loud and joyful. And there was Nina, clinging to Justin’s arm, beaming as she introduced him to a group of older relatives. “This is my boyfriend,” she was saying. Justin stood beside her, smiling, not correcting her.
So this was his idea of “helping her deal with her parents.”
A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. As I was texting my friend back, a new contact request popped up on my screen.
The message was short and to the point.
“Anna, I slept with Justin.”
I accepted the request. A photo appeared instantly.
It was a picture of them in bed.
“You’re old, Anna. You’re not good enough for a man as brilliant as the professor anymore.”
“Besides, you’re thirty and you still haven’t given him a child. Can you even have kids?”
“I’m different. I’m young, I have a great body. I bet I’ll get pregnant on the first try.”
“Oh, and by the way, the professor never used to let me have your number. But this time, he didn’t stop me. What do you think that means?”
What did it mean? I didn't give a damn what it meant.
A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. My whole body felt like it was cramping, trying to expel a poison that had been building for years.
This house, our home, was suffocating me. Every corner was saturated with his presence, his scent, his lies. It made my skin crawl. I called my assistant and told her to find me a new place. Immediately.
On the day I was moving out, Dean Evans called to thank me for the equipment and invited me to dinner. I accepted.
I didn’t expect him to invite Justin.
And Justin, of course, brought Nina. They were dressed in matching shades of blue, like a couple. Her hand was firmly tucked into the crook of his arm, and she didn’t let go even when she saw me.
Justin smoothly extracted his arm and guided Nina to the seats next to mine. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “Dean Evans has a partnership with the university. I thought it would be a good networking opportunity for Nina. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. What was there left to misunderstand?
He seemed to take my silence as acceptance and visibly relaxed.
During the meal, I chatted with the Dean while Justin dutifully placed food on Nina’s plate.
She took a bite, her voice dripping with sugar. “Oh, Justin, this is delicious! You always know exactly what I like. How do you know me so well?”
The atmosphere at the table froze.
Nina covered her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Oh, Anna, don't get the wrong idea. The professor was just helping me because I was too shy to get food myself.”
Justin, his expression unreadable, picked up a piece of cucumber and dropped it onto my plate. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that I hated cucumber.
“Nina’s just a bit timid,” he said coolly. “Don’t mind her, Anna. She’s just a kid.”
I set down my fork, my appetite gone. But with an outsider present, I couldn’t make a scene. That would just be giving them a show.
The Dean, a perceptive man, immediately sensed the tension. He deftly changed the subject, steering the conversation until he finally landed on the lab equipment.
He raised his glass to me. “Ms. Vance, I truly can’t thank you enough for that equipment. You have no idea what a lifesaver it’s been for the hospital. Words can’t express my gratitude, so let this toast do the talking.”
Justin frowned. “What equipment? And Anna, speaking of, why haven’t you sent that shipment to my lab yet? My next round of experiments is completely dependent on it.”
I took a sip of my wine. “I already gave that equipment to Dean Evans,” I said calmly.
Justin froze. His face went from confusion to a dark, thunderous rage, but he managed to bottle it up. For now. The Dean, oblivious, continued to make polite conversation. Justin’s responses became clipped and cold.
The second the dinner was over, his control shattered. He cornered me on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
“Anna, why would you give that equipment to him? You know that was the most advanced system out of Germany! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for it?” His voice was a low, furious growl. “What has gotten into you lately? You’re not acting like yourself. Are you seeing someone else?”
The accusation, the sheer hypocrisy of it, was almost laughable.
I was about to answer when a familiar voice cut through the night.
“Anna? I can’t believe I’d run into you here.” It was Liam, an old friend. “I heard about your mother. I’m so sorry, I got back too late.” He put a gentle hand on my arm. “My condolences.”
“Condolences?” Justin’s brow furrowed in confusion. He looked from Liam to me, completely lost. “What condolences? Who died?”

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