ILLICIT AFFAIRS | WLW

False God

Sunday afternoon ushered in with a stillness that surrounded the university library. The air thrummed with the muffled sound of low conversations, the rhythmic rustles of pages and the familiar, comforting aroma of coffee wafted through. Seated in her customary secluded corner, surrounded by a sprawl of textbooks and academic articles displayed on the screen of her laptop, Blair felt anything but cantered. Although the quietude was a balm, it was also deceptive, a show of tranquillity that contradicted the restless storm within her mind.

Though the pressure of midterms had dissipated, a series of imminent assignments deadlines loomed, a reminder of the short-lived reprieve. She flipped through her annotated notes, her eyes skimming the highlighted sections without truly absorbing them. The motion did nothing to quell the gnawing unease in her chest; instead, it seemed to amplify it.

Thomas.

The name continously surfaced without warning, a sharp intrusion that disrupted her concentration. Their relationship, if should such be even labelled, had lingered in her thoughts. The unresolved tension between them sat heavy in her chest, constricting with each passing minute. Blair's fingers traced the edge of her notebook unconsciously, the slight tremor in her touch betraying the calm she fought to project. What would she say to Thomas when they met later? She was rattled with uncertainty, unsure of what may transpire in the aftermath of their conversation.

One fact remained certain, as clear as day in her mind. She knew, unequivocally, that closure was needed. Any lingering remnants of romance between them needed to be definitively extinguished. The reality was that Blair had never truly wanted Thomas, at least not in the way he wanted her. Their relationship was once been an anchor, a familiarity that made life lighter. But she had foolishly crossed the boundaries, and he had become a refuge to distract Blair's mind from the previously – confusing pull Catherine had on her.

The mere thought of Catherine always seemed to conjure a warmth that softened whatever tension rampaged in Blair's mind. The woman was unlike anyone she'd ever known – self assured, exhilarating and magnetic in a way that was inexplicably undeniable. Within the surroundings of academia, their connection was a carefully maintained secret filled with whispers, stolen glances and thrilling touches. But in their own, private corner of the world, there were no secrets of façade. They were simply just Catherine and Blair.

Catherine's disdain for Thomas was not exactly without reason. Blair knew all too well how much Catherine disliked him, especially the night after her birthday, where Thomas had pushed her into one too many drinks and then later shamed her for not going home with him. The recollection often filled Blair with a confusing mix of embarrassment and anger, but it was always softened by Catherine's reassurance.

"You don't owe him anything," Catherine had told her the evening before, her voice underpinned with a controlled conviction. Blair had been curled up on Catherine's couch, her head resting in the older woman's lap as Catherine's fingers traced soothing patterns through her hair. The words looped continuously in Blair's mind, the sentiment becoming a mantra she clung to for confidence to push through.

Yet, she still couldn't deny the guilt that washed over her. Blair knew that she shared some culpability in the reckoning of their relationship. She had let things linger past its expiration date, and she had undoubtedly used him as a distraction from Catherine, crossing a boundary she should have never even thought of doing.

She still wore his necklace at times, more so, when she'd have to work with Catherine's past fling, Grace. It was a carefully chosen prop to deflect Grace from suspecting anything beyond professionalism between Catherine and Blair.

The sudden thud of a falling stack of books snapped Blair out of her reverie, her gaze darting to the sound. She exhaled heavily before reaching for her coffee, now cold and uninviting. Time had slipped away faster than she had realised, and her meeting with Thomas drew closer.