Chapter 27: Bothered

Emerald’s POV

By the time I returned to my dormitory, my arms were already beginning to ache.

I had underestimated just how much I had bought.

After unlocking the door, I carried the shopping bags inside in batches. Some went onto the kitchenette counter, while the rest remained neatly on the floor until I could sort them out.

Only after bringing in the last bag did I close the door behind me. With that done, I took my phone from my handbag.

The battery had completely refused to come on at the supermarket, so the first thing I did was plug it into the charger.

Barely two seconds later, the screen lit up.

48%

I stared at it in wonder. "...How come?" The words slipped from my lips before I realised it.

Just an hour ago, the same phone had suddenly gone off without warning. No matter how many times I had pressed the power button at the supermarket, it had refused to respond.

Yet now... It was showing forty-eight per cent battery.

My brows slowly knitted together. "That doesn’t make any sense."

Quickly, I pressed the power button. The familiar logo appeared on the screen before the phone finished booting up as though nothing unusual had happened.

I stared at it for several long seconds. Had my battery gone bad? It was the only explanation I could think of.

Even then, it didn’t feel convincing.

With no better answer, I placed the phone on the table and turned my attention to the groceries waiting for me.

One after another, I unpacked everything. The vegetables went into the refrigerator. The drinks followed.

Packets of pasta, cereal and instant meals found their places inside the kitchen cabinet, while the coffee, sugar and other dry ingredients went onto the shelves above the counter.

By the time I finished, the once empty kitchenette finally looked lived in. Wiping my hands on a kitchen towel, I walked back to the table and picked up my phone again.

There were a few notifications from class discussion groups. Nothing else. More importantly, there wasn’t a single message from an unfamiliar number.

I watched the screen for another moment before quietly setting the phone back down. Maybe Michael had only just gotten home. Or maybe he was busy with something.

He would probably send his bank details later.

Thinking no more about it, I picked up a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. The warm shower helped ease the day’s exhaustion.

Several minutes later, I stepped back into my room, drying my hair with a towel as I made my way towards the table.

Almost unconsciously, my eyes went straight to my phone. The screen was dark, so I picked it up. Still nothing.

A small sigh escaped me. "He must still be busy," I said to myself.

After placing the phone back down, I walked into the kitchenette and began preparing dinner.

Creamy pasta had always been one of the quickest meals I could make, and tonight was no exception.

While the pasta cooked, I poured myself a glass of pineapple juice and set it beside the plate waiting on the counter.

A few minutes later, dinner was ready. I carried the plate towards the dining table. Halfway there, my steps slowed.

Almost without thinking, I turned around. My phone was exactly where I had left it.

I walked over, unlocked it and checked the screen once again. There were no new messages, no missed calls, no notification from an unfamiliar number.

I found myself holding the phone for a few moments longer than necessary. The corner of my lip slipped between my teeth before I caught myself.

What am I doing?

Shaking my head, I placed the phone back on the table. Professor King had a company to run. He probably had meetings to attend, documents to review and countless other responsibilities waiting for him after leaving campus.

Sending me his bank details was hardly something that needed to be done immediately.

The thought settled my mind a little. I finally sat down and ate my dinner.

After washing the dishes and wiping the kitchen counter clean, I returned to my room. Out of habit more than expectation, I picked up my phone one last time.

The result was exactly the same. Nothing.

A slight frown settled on my face. By now, I had honestly expected him to have sent a message. After all, I had promised to refund the money as soon as I received his account details.

Could he have forgotten?

The thought lingered for a moment before I quietly locked the screen again.

Maybe he would send it tomorrow.

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I arrived at the lecture hall earlier than usual this Monday morning.

The assignment Professor King had given us the previous week had long been concluded, yet for some reason, I found myself looking towards the door every few seconds.

The entire weekend had come and gone. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. And not once had he sent me a message.

I still didn’t have his bank account details.

At first, I thought he had simply been occupied with work. After all, he was the head of one of the world’s largest business groups. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how busy his schedule must be.

But after two whole days, I could no longer convince myself with that explanation.

Did he forget? The thought crossed my mind more times than I cared to admit. If he had, then I would simply have to remind him after class.

I really didn’t like owing people, especially someone like Michael. It made me strangely restless.

I had barely settled into my seat when someone pulled out the chair beside me.

"Good morning."

I looked up. It was Elias, so I returned the greeting. "Good morning."

He greeted me with his usual easy smile before placing his backpack on the floor. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine." I waited for a while before reciprocating the gesture. "What about yours?"

"Not bad," he replied. "Though I spent most of it trying to convince myself that I didn’t make a mistake furthering my studies."

I lifted a brow. I was just about to respond when the classroom door opened. Almost instantly, the conversations around the room faded.

Professor King walked in.

Today, he was dressed much as he always was—a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, dark tailored trousers and polished brown leather shoes.

Without saying a word, he placed a leather folder and his laptop on the lectern before turning to face the class.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Professor," everyone answered almost in unison.

His gaze swept calmly across the lecture hall. Almost unconsciously, I found myself following it.

Row after row, he acknowledged the students before his eyes eventually reached my side of the room.

For the briefest moment, I thought they might stop. They didn’t. His gaze passed over me as naturally as it had over everyone else before moving on.

I frowned slightly. Did he remember? Or had he completely forgotten that I still owed him money?

Somehow, I couldn’t tell which possibility bothered me more.