FIRST DRAFT: October 2024.
ERRORS AMMENDED: May 2025
There world has many forbidden desires to offer, and to Catherine Kingsley, Blair Anderson is the most ineffable of thirsts. Found entangled in clandestine meetings and entrapped in the complexiti...
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𝐀𝐍: I thought I'd include the songs I have on repeat when I'm writing from both Catherine and Blair's POV. There are so many other songs that I think of Blair or Catherine would listen to, but these are the main ones!
A little heads up, I am a Blair defender till the day I die. I love Catherine, but Blair is my girl :(
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The morning light, diffused by the thin curtains of Catherine Kingsley's office, slipped into the room in slanted, fragile beams. It painted the usually pristine space with an eerie glow, one that contrasted the emotional weight that had settled heavily on Catherine's shoulders. She sat in her chair behind the desk, her hands clasped together with a tightness that reflected the turmoil within. Today she had dressed more casually than usually – far more casual than she had in her years of teaching.
Instead of the tailored suits or polished skirts that typically defined her professional persona, she had chosen a pair of well-worn jeans that slightly flared at the bottom over her heeled suede boots, paired with a crisp white blouse, its collar unbuttoned. The fabric billowed slightly around her frame, the very looseness of it mirroring her state of emotions. It wasn't a conscious decision to dress down, but the events of the night before had left her emotionally drained, and the careful grooming of her usual appearance seemed like too much effort today. She wanted comfort, or perhaps, some kind of emotional escape.
Her hair, usually styled meticulously, was haphazardly tied back into a messy ponytail, strands of her ginger curls escaping in various directions, falling loosely around her face. Her decision to wear glasses instead of contact lenses—something she usually avoided for professional reasons—was another deviation from her usual self-presentation. They framed her face with a softness, but they also made her look older, more tired.
Her face was pale, as though sleep had been elusive, draining her features. Her eyes were slightly reddened and puffy, a result of the tears she had shed in the hours that passed since the end of her and Blair's affair. The image of Blair's face, the mix of disappointment and hurt in her eyes, kept replaying over and over in Catherine's mind, haunting her with each passing second. She had tried to sleep, tried to seek rest, but sleep evaded her, replaced by a racing mind filled with guilt and regret. She had stayed up most of the night, letting her thoughts circle endlessly. She had tried to understand how things had gotten to this complication, but there was no easy answer.
Taking a steadying breath, Catherine stood up, organizing her materials for the lecture she was about to give. As she prepared, she noticed how the room felt unusually quiet, even more so than usual. The soft clicking of her shoes on the floor as she walked toward her desk echoed in the space. She knew what was coming—her first lecture since the incident with Blair, and the weight of it all sat heavily on her shoulders. She wasn't just going to face a class of students; she was going to face the reality that Blair had walked away. Blair, the one bright spot in her otherwise methodical life, had pulled away, and Catherine had no idea how to repair it, or if it was even possible.
