Page 11 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)
Conrad nods, acknowledging the reminder with a half-hearted smile. “I know, I know,” he says, but then his tone shifts, and he tosses a question back at me. “Are you still going to go through with the engagement party?”
“Yes,” I reply, the word heavier on my tongue than I’d like. “It’s next week, and I need more time to figure out how to break things off properly.” Curious, I narrow my eyes slightly, asking, “Why do you ask?”
Conrad hesitates but then reveals with a tone filled with pride, “I'm going to go with Hannah, and that night might be my best shot.”
The irritation flares up inside me at his persistence, and I feel a tightness in my chest. “If she isn’t interested, you should just stay in the friend zone and accept it. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her once and for all,” I say, more sharply than intended.
Conrad laughs a bit defensively. “Is it because you’re now a teacher that you’re acting so serious?” He shakes his head, then adds, “I’d never do anything against her wishes, but the bubbly and the party might make her more receptive.”
I can’t listen to another word about his plans to woo Hannah, especially not with the complexities of my own feelings and the engagement party looming.
Abruptly, I stand up, pulling out my wallet to drop enough money on the table to cover the bill.
“I've got things to work on. Thanks for the chat.” My tone’s a little clipped as I gather my things.
Conrad gives me a puzzled look, clearly caught off guard by my sudden departure, but he nods and wishes me well.
As I step out of the coffee shop, the cool Cambridge air hits me, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.
It’s refreshing but does little to calm the turmoil inside me.
The streets are bustling with people, the noise of the city a backdrop to the racing thoughts in my mind.
I weave through the crowd, my pace quick, as I head back to my office.
Each step feels heavy, burdened by the implications of the upcoming engagement party and Conrad's intentions towards Hannah.
Reaching my office, I unlock the door and step inside, closing it firmly behind me. The familiar surroundings do little to ease the unease that has settled over me. I drop into my chair and let out a long sigh, the privacy of my space allowing me to finally drop the facade of composure I’d held.
With my emotions swirling, I pick up the phone and dial Hannah’s number. Each ring amplifies my anxiety until her voice finally breaks through, calm and soothing. Despite her reassurance, my mind can’t shake off the unsettling feelings stirred up by the conversation with Conrad.
“Why didn’t you tell me you went for dinner with Conrad?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even though I can hear the strain of jealousy and concern seeping through.
Hannah is quick to calm me, her voice steady. “Calm down, Professor. It was just a friendly meeting. Nothing more.”
But my mind races ahead, already dreading the dynamics of the engagement party where everything seems poised to come to a head. “Just be careful with him, especially during the engagement party. He hasn’t given up on you,” I warn, feeling a mix of protectiveness and frustration.
Hannah’s voice, though calm, carries a sharp edge that doesn’t escape my notice. “I appreciate your concern, but I know how to handle him.” Her tone indicates she wants to move past the topic. “Plus, I'm definitely going to need some company to witness you and Astrid play the perfect couple.”
I flinch slightly, sensing the hurt underlying her words.
The situation is far from ideal, and her comment is a stark reminder of the uncomfortable facade we both have to endure.
“Soon enough, I will break this off,” I promise, my voice low and earnest, “but first, we need to make sure you won’t get expelled, no matter what Astrid or her father try. ”
There’s a pause on the line, a moment of silence that feels charged. “And after that? You are still my teacher, and I’m still a fresher. They can still do something against you,” Hannah points out, her concern for the consequences clear and pressing.
The gravity of the situation weighs heavily on me, and for a moment, I consider the potential repercussions. “Even if they fire me, I'll find another job,” I say firmly, my decision made in the heat of the moment but spoken with conviction.
“Where?” Hannah’s voice cracks slightly, the gravity of the situation evident in her tone. Her question isn’t just about logistics—it’s about stability, about the future, about us.
I pause, the reality of the situation settling in. “I don’t know yet,” I admit, “but I’ll figure something out. Maybe somewhere new, where we can start fresh, away from all these complications.”
The idea seems daunting, yet there is a flicker of hope—a possibility of escape from the tangled web we find ourselves in. The thought of a fresh start, though rife with challenges, offers a sliver of solace in the chaos of our current circumstances.
Hannah's response is a soft sigh, a mixture of worry and resolve transmitted over the line. “Let’s just get through the engagement party first,” she finally says, her voice steadier now, grounded in the immediate challenges we face.
“Oma arrived in London this morning and is staying at a secluded country property. She’s invited us both for dinner tonight at seven.
” There’s an unmistakable warmth in her tone—a welcoming break from the tension we've been navigating.
“That sounds wonderful,” I respond, genuinely pleased by the prospect of an escape into a more comforting environment, even if just for an evening.
Hannah continues, “I suggest we go in separate cars, just to be cautious.” It’s a prudent suggestion, considering the delicacy of our situation. “And,” she adds, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “we are invited to stay for the weekend, in case you can go.”
I pause for a moment, considering the implications.
It would be a much-needed respite, a chance to step away from the pressures of Cambridge and the impending engagement party.
“I’d love to join you for the weekend,” I say, my decision firm.
To Hannah's surprise, I add, “And don’t worry, I’ve already taken care of finding a cover to spend the weekend with you. ”
“Really?” There’s relief mixed with delight in her voice. “Johan, that’s great. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”
“I spoke to Conrad; he’s got my back,” I explain, feeling a wave of relief myself. The opportunity to be with Hannah and her grandmother, away from the prying eyes and expectations of our usual circles, feels like the breath of fresh air we both need.
“Thank you, baby,” she says, her voice softening further. “This means a lot to me.”
“It means a lot to me, too,” I assure her, feeling a smile spread across my face. “I’ll see you tonight then. Eight o’clock?”
“Yes, I’ll send you the address. See you then,” Hannah replies, the smile evident in her voice.
As we hang up, I lean back in my chair, allowing myself a moment to feel hopeful about the coming weekend.
It’s a temporary reprieve from our challenges but a precious one, promising not just respite but also the chance to strengthen the bond that has become so crucial to both of us.
As I let my thoughts wander, I hear a vibration on my phone, and as I look at it, Astrid’s urgent text flashes on my screen, yanking me back to a reality I’m increasingly desperate to escape.
“ Call me when you can, it’s urgent! ” it reads.
With a resigned sigh, I pick up the phone again, steeling myself as I press call.
Her voice bursts through the line, effervescent and full of life.
“Hey! How are you? Look, my dad has got tickets to go on a super exclusive art auction in Paris, so I’m flying with him tonight.
Do you want to join us?” Her words rush out, filled with excitement about the upcoming event. Her dad truly delivers.
I muster a polite refusal, my tone casual enough not to raise suspicion. “Thanks, but I will stay in. Conrad is staying here too, so I’ll plan something with him.” It's a lie that flows too easily, crafted to protect my real plans for the weekend.
“Alright. Behave,” she chuckles, a line that usually invites a playful response.
“Yes, Miss.” The words feel hollow, but they do their job.
Then, just as I'm about to end the call, she adds something new, something unexpected. “Love you.” The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. It’s the first time she’s said that, and it strikes a dissonant chord in me.
I hesitate; a part of me wants to address it, to respond to the weight of those words. But another part, the part that’s already halfway out the door, decides to pretend I didn’t hear her. “Have a good flight,” I say instead, keeping my tone even, careful not to betray the turmoil inside.
As I end the call, the weight of her unreciprocated declaration adds a layer of complication I hadn't anticipated.
I sit back, the phone now silent on my desk, and stare into the space of my office.
The shadows seem to stretch longer across the floor, and the silence feels heavier than before.
My thoughts drift back to Hannah, to our planned escape, and I feel both a pang of guilt and a fierce yearning for something that feels real.
The contrast between duty and desire sharpens, leaving me restless in its wake.