Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

92 - Goodbye

Alison
***

Time and fate can play ticks on us. Just when you think you got everything figured out, when you think life is finally falling into place, a rug is pulled from under your feet and everything you built collapses.

My biggest wish for a whole year was to be able to finally stop hiding my love for Chris. I was desperate to start loving him outside of the constraints of his apartment, but now that I was going away for six months, coming clean about our relationship didn't make sense anymore. It was best if we waited until I came back so that when I did we could pick up exactly where we left off. Chris thought it was even a better strategy than our initial one: if we came out as a couple six months after I graduated, it wouldn't look as suspicious.

I held on to these optimistic thoughts, forcing myself to look at the bright side. If I didn't do it, if I didn't convince myself that going to Paris for six months was the best for me, I'd surely back down on my decision.

To help me believe in my decision, I made a list of all the reasons why I needed to go. This internship was the initial push I needed to kickstart my career, it was an opportunity to learn with the best, to be among the best in a city I was desperate to know better. In those six months, I'd finally build relationships with my extended family, make new friends, connect with my culture. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and even though I had my list right there to remind me of it, Chris truly wanted to nail that idea into my brain.

Like me, he dived head first into making himself believe this was what was right for me and for our relationship. In his words, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he held me back, he'd feel like he was hindering my potential. He said he'd resent himself for being selfish for keeping me all to himself.

I understood him completely and believed his words were true, but as time started running out and his eyes got sadder and sadder as the day of my departure approached, I knew this would hurt him a lot. No matter how much he rationalized my departure, I knew it would break his heart.

"It's just six months," I'd hear him say to himself in the morning as he fixed up his beard in the bathroom. "Writing an academic paper takes longer than that."

It were moments like this one where I was reminded that we were once again trying to hide the sadness we felt to protect one another. I didn't want Chris to see me cry, and I knew he didn't want me to see him cry either.

But we did. We cried in secret, away from each other so that neither would show our selfish tears.

To fight off the sadness, we occupied our time as much as possible. We went on hikes, baked elaborate recipes, when on road trips, painted together, made private reservations at restaurants. We did everything we could think of in secrecy, just the two of us. There was even a day when Kent came over to watch a game with Chris, and honestly, it was so nice to pretend for two hours that our situation was perfectly normal.

As the weeks turned to days and the date of my departure approached, being with started to Chris become stressful and draining. Since I knew these were the last moments I'd have with him, I couldn't focus on anything else other than the fact that I'd miss him instead of loving him in the moment. This feeling intensified at night when we were about to fall asleep because the moment we'd wake up I'd be closer to saying goodbye.

I knew this wasn't healthy. I knew I had to feel differently so I could enjoy the remaining time I had with him, but it was near impossible. Deep down, my fear of abandonment was telling me the six months apart would turn into a definite breakup even though Chris swore to me he'd stick by my side.

In a moment of selfish weakness, I'd voice my insecurities. Chris would hold me and let me cry on his chest even though my tears hurt him: the more sadness I showed, the more he got upset.