Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 148: Distance Between Us

The class discussion continued.

Brian chimed in with a tech startup, while Celeste mentioned a logistics company her cousin worked for.

Mr. Varen guided the conversation with ease, occasionally cracking dry jokes that drew a few scattered chuckles.

"You won’t need to memorize all market theories on day one," he said. "That’s what day two is for."

Levy chuckled, already scribbling that quote into the corner of her notes.

Later, he organized a short activity, asking students to pair up and brainstorm a basic product pitch.

Celeste turned to Levy. "Should we just stick together?"

"Definitely. Saves us from the awkward introductions."

They spent the next fifteen minutes sketching ideas and giggling over their fake brand for eco-friendly planners.

As they shared their idea to the class, Mr. Varen nodded thoughtfully. "You two thought that through. Not bad."

When class ended, students filtered out in small groups. Some lingered to ask questions; others chatted about where to head next.

"Room B-218, right?" Celeste asked.

Levy checked her schedule. "Yup. Business Communications."

They left together, chatting about the syllabus and the surprising ease of the first lecture.

Back in B-204, silence returned.

Cassius Varen was still at the desk, gathering his notes. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring down at Levy’s name on the list.

The door creaked open.

Sophia entered, dressed sharply, carrying a small folder.

"Are you really going to teach here?" she asked.

Cassius didn’t look up. "Yes."

Sophia stepped closer, her gaze scanning the whiteboard. "Did she recognize you?"

He paused. Slowly, he closed the folder.

"She doesn’t."

Sophia tilted her head. "Does it hurt?"

He gave a soft chuckle, but his eyes didn’t match the sound. "I expected it."

She didn’t press further. Instead, she asked, "Are you still going to the Diamond Public Hospital?"

Cassius stood and straightened his cuffs. "Yeah. Christy will be on duty soon. Let’s go."

They exited the building and walked along a quiet path that led from the academic buildings to the parking lot. The city’s edge was visible in the distance. After reaching their car, they drove into town, eventually pulling up near the hospital’s west wing entrance.

Inside, the lobby smelled of antiseptic and coffee. The usual low buzz of movement surrounded them—nurses checking charts, doctors discussing rounds.

Cassius made his way upstairs to the viewing corridor—a place with wide windows overlooking the nurse’s station below.

He sat silently, mask over his face, watching.

Down below, Mrs. Christy Montclair was reviewing patient charts. Her motions were methodical, composed. She paused to help a junior nurse adjust an IV, her voice gentle but clear.

Cassius leaned forward slightly, eyes following her every movement.

"She’s still graceful," Sophia said beside him.

He didn’t reply.

They sat in silence for a while.

"You never speak to her," she said softly.

"She doesn’t know who I am anymore."

"She might, one day."

Cassius stared downward. "Maybe. But not today."

He stayed there, unmoving, just watching.

It had become his routine.

To be close. Even if he couldn’t be seen.

---

Back at the apartment, silence stretched like an unwelcome guest. The ticking clock on the wall was louder than it had any right to be.

Kendrick sat at the dining table, a half-finished omelet turning cold on his plate. The pan was still on the stove, the scent of cooked eggs lingering in the air. Across the hallway, Zephany’s bedroom door remained closed.

Neither of them had spoken since they returned the night before. The crash. The blood. The impossible way it had all disappeared.

He glanced at her door again, tapping his fingers quietly against the table.

Should I knock?

But what would he even say?

Are you like me?

Did that scare you?

Or, asked directly:

Are you Eclipse?

---

He reached for his glass of water and took a sip, more out of something to do than actual thirst. The silence grew heavy. His eyes drifted back to the hallway.

Then he heard the lock click.

The doorknob turned.

Zephany stepped out, already dressed for work. Neat white blouse, skirt, and her usual brown cardigan that made her look like she belonged in a quiet library, not in the field of journalism. Her bag was already slung over her shoulder.

Their eyes met briefly.

But only briefly.

She blinked and immediately looked away. "I’m heading out."

Her voice was soft, almost mechanical. Not cold, but distant. As if it was coming from someone trying hard not to shake.

Kendrick stood instinctively. "Zeph... wait, you didn’t eat."

"I’m not hungry."

She stepped past the kitchen and made her way to the front door.

"I made breakfast," he said, quieter now, almost to himself.

She paused at the door, hand already on the knob. "Thanks," she murmured without looking back. Then she left.

The door closed with a muted thud.

Kendrick remained standing there. Alone in the kitchen. Surrounded by warmth that didn’t reach either of them.

---

Zephany gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. Her car sped along the familiar route to the office, the morning traffic crawling around her like sluggish thoughts. She hadn’t touched her breakfast. Hadn’t even checked the mirror before leaving.

She couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

That crash.

His blood.

Her blood.

Their wounds.

Gone in seconds. No scars. No bruises. Not a trace.

And the way Kendrick looked at her afterward... like he wasn’t sure what he just saw.

But wasn’t she doing the same?

Was it really just a coincidence?

Her heart twisted.

She reached the parking space of the Air Media building and quickly pulled in. The silence of the car only made her thoughts louder. She turned off the engine and sat for a moment. Then she gave herself a breath, unbuckled, and stepped out.

Inside the office, the morning buzz had already begun. Phones rang, printers whirred, coffee cups clinked. Zephany walked quickly past the open bullpen, keeping her eyes low, pretending not to notice the greetings tossed her way.

She finally reached her desk and slumped into her chair like a deflated balloon. Her bag slid off her shoulder and dropped with a soft thud.

She stared blankly at her monitor. Not even pretending to open it.