Hidden Flame

Chapter 2: The Echo of Silence

The late afternoon sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long, lingering shadows across the Harrowgate Academy campus. River walked through the narrow corridors, her footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. The day’s lessons still played in her mind, but her thoughts continually circled back to August. There was something about the girl that tugged at River’s subconscious—a pull that was difficult to define, yet impossible to ignore.

The faculty lounge was empty when River arrived, the room bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. She poured herself another cup of coffee, grateful for the quiet. It was in these rare moments of solitude that River could let her guard down, if only slightly, and reflect on the day’s events.

She found herself replaying the moment August had stood before the class, her quiet voice barely above a whisper as she spoke about the portrait. The image of the young woman August had drawn lingered in River’s mind, haunting in its beauty and depth. It was more than just a portrait; it was a window into something deeply personal, something that August seemed to be grappling with, even if she couldn’t fully articulate it.

River was no stranger to the complexities of identity and self-expression. As someone who had spent her entire life navigating the often treacherous waters of being intersex in a world that demanded binary definitions, River understood the pain of not fitting neatly into society’s expectations. She saw a similar struggle in August—an unspoken battle with the world around her, a search for meaning in a space that often refused to acknowledge her uniqueness.

Taking a sip of her coffee, River allowed herself to indulge in the quiet for a moment longer. The faculty lounge was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the demands of the day could be temporarily set aside. But even here, River’s thoughts were restless, her mind continuously drawn back to August.

Just as River was about to leave the lounge, the door creaked open, and she looked up to see one of her colleagues, Professor Bennett, entering the room. A tall, imposing woman with a stern demeanor, Bennett was known for her no-nonsense approach to teaching and her unwavering commitment to the academy’s traditions.

“River,” Bennett greeted her with a curt nod as she walked over to the coffee pot. “Burning the midnight oil, I see.”

“Just finishing up,” River replied with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Same as always,” Bennett said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “I swear, these students keep getting more demanding with each passing year.”

River chuckled softly. “Or perhaps we’re just getting older.”

Bennett smirked, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied River. “You’ve always been one to take the long view, haven’t you? I’ve noticed you’ve taken an interest in one of your students—August, isn’t it?”

River tensed slightly at Bennett’s observation, but she kept her expression neutral. “Yes, August is in my literature class. She’s a talented artist.”

“I’ve heard,” Bennett said, her tone unreadable. “Just be careful, River. It’s easy to become too involved with the students, especially when they show promise. But we have a responsibility to maintain a professional distance.”

River nodded, understanding the unspoken warning in Bennett’s words. “Of course. I’m always mindful of the boundaries.”

“Good,” Bennett said with a final nod. “We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings. Harrowgate has a reputation to uphold, after all.”

As Bennett left the lounge, River felt a knot of unease settle in her stomach. She knew Bennett was right—there were lines that must not be crossed, no matter how much River might empathize with a student’s struggles. But the connection she felt with August was something she hadn’t anticipated, something that went beyond the usual teacher-student dynamic. It was a pull she couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that defied the rigid expectations of the academy.