CHAPTER 41: DO PEOPLE HAVE THIS MUCH PROBLEM?

Chapter 41

JULIAN POLE

The first Monday back after Thanksgiving break always feels like a hangover.

The kind that doesn’t hurt your head, just your sense of reality. The campus was gray and cold, leftover slush turning to ice on the sidewalks. People were back in their same hoodies, the same routines, pretending the past week didn’t happen.

I tried to do the same.

Luka and Rico walked beside me toward the humanities building, arguing about a group project. My backpack felt heavier than usual, and not just because of the books. Every few steps, I caught myself checking my phone like I was expecting something.

A message from Jace.

A signal.

Anything.

Nothing came.

I changed my line like Marco told me and I texted him with the intention of him passing my number to his brother.

That’s why I was waiting. But nothing came since the last time I saw him.

When we walked into the café, the usual morning chaos from students and steam from the espresso machine, the buzz of gossip louder than the music. At first, it sounded normal. But then my name drifted through the noise.

"...Julian, right?"

"Yeah, the one who’s always hanging around Professor Jace..."

"Did you hear what they’re saying about him?"

I froze mid-step. Luka noticed and frowned, following my line of sight. A group of students sat by the window, whispering too loud for it to be innocent. One of them laughed that ugly kind of laugh that means someone’s about to twist the knife.

I kept walking.

But the whispers followed.

In class, in the hallway, outside the library. All the same words, reshaped and passed around like bad candy.

"Marino" the person made sure to add his last name

"I heard he’s not even a real professor."

"My roommate said his family owns construction companies but like, the mob kind."

"No way—"

"Swear. Someone said he killed a guy. By accident. But they covered it up."

That’s not true. He doesn’t kill people.

Right?

By noon, it wasn’t just whispers.

I was sitting in the student center, trying to focus on an essay, when I finally snapped. A girl at the next table said, "He’s probably dangerous. Imagine dating someone like that."

Before I knew it, I was turned toward her, voice sharp.

"Maybe stop talking about people you don’t know."

Her eyes widened. Her friend smirked. "Oh, so it’s true?"

"What’s true?"

"That you’re his favorite student. Or whatever you call it."

The blood rushed to my face so fast it felt like burning. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

She shrugged, like she’d just won something. "Everyone’s saying it. The guy drives a different car every week. He’s got bodyguards. He’s not some normal teacher. And you—" her tone softened into a mock sweetness "you look like you’d like a good sugar daddy."

That wasn’t what I was expecting. I stood up, grabbed my bag and left before I did something stupid.

Outside, the wind cut through my hoodie. I walked fast, head down, ignoring the way people looked at me curious, smug, maybe even afraid. Luka caught up a few minutes later, his breath clouding in the cold.

"Hey—hey, slow down!"

I didn’t.

He jogged until he was in front of me, forcing me to stop. "What the hell?"

"Nothing," I said. "People are just being assholes."

"You wanna tell me what kind of assholes?"

I hesitated, then muttered, "The kind that think Jace is some kind of monster."

Luka’s expression darkened. "You want me to handle it?"

I almost laughed. "How? Beat up the entire campus?"

"Wouldn’t be my worst idea."

"Don’t. Please."

He sighed. "Okay. But seriously, Jules, this is getting out of hand. If people are saying he—"

"He didn’t," I cut in. "Whatever they’re saying, it’s bullshit."

He looked at me for a long second, like he wanted to believe me but also wanted proof. "Then maybe stop reacting like you’ve got something to hide."

That stung. Mostly because it was true.

"Let’s go" he said and we started walking.

The next day, the rumor had evolved.

Now people were saying the Marino family was under investigation, that one of their businesses got raided, that an "ex Professor" was connected.

I tried not to listen.

I went to class, sat in the back and kept my head down.

But every time someone laughed behind me, I wondered if it was about him. About us.

Rico showed up after my property law seminar. He looked tense, phone in hand. "You need to see this," he said, handing it over.

It was a post on a student gossip account

’Some professors aren’t who they say they are 👀. Be careful who you take private lessons from. Our campus isn’t as safe as you think.’

The comments were worse.

Half of them were jokes. The other half were hints.

I felt my stomach drop.

It ain’t their fault. He’s been all over the news recently.

"Who posted this?"

"No one knows. But someone uploaded it with screenshots."

"Screenshots of what?"

Rico hesitated. "You. In his car."

The photo wasn’t clear. Just a reflection on a window, maybe from last month when he gave me a ride after class. But it was enough.

I handed the phone back, trying not to show how badly my hands were shaking. "It’s nothing," I said. "Could be anyone."

"Julian—"

"I said it’s fine." I snapped. "I’m sorry I just—

"It’s okay"

I like that he didn’t push me.

I’m just exhausted.

By Wednesday, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Post and comment from the gossip board.

A few comments saying things like hope you enjoyed the ride or guess you didn’t know what he really does.

I muted everything. Praying the day would blur, that I wouldn’t have to feel any of it.

And it did.

My friends and I sat in Luka’s kitchen eating noodles out of the pot. None of us were really talking. The only sound was the rain against the window.

Rico finally said, "You think he’s okay?"

"Who?"

"Professor Marino."

I wanted to say Jace, but I couldn’t. Not with how they looked at me now. Like saying his name would summon something we couldn’t control.

"I don’t know," I said quietly. "He said he’d find me. That was the last time I saw him, I haven’t heard from him or his brothers"

Luka stirred his noodles, eyes still on the pot. "Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. For now."

With all this chaos I want him to find me at the same time I don’t want him to.

When we were done, we cleared the dishes. Luka’s parents weren’t home like mine never are. We showered together, their eyes never leaving me, afraid I might fall apart. Then we lay down, arms wrapped around each other. My best friends

The next morning, I walked into campus early, before the crowds. The air was cold and smelled like coffee from the student café. My reflection in the library window looked tired and older.

I wanted to believe it would all blow over.

All this chaos.

That students would find someone new to gossip about. That I could go back to pretending I was just another guy trying to pass his finals.

Do people have this much problem and how do they manage them?

As I sat down on one of the benches near the quad, my phone buzzed.

No contact name. Just Blocked Number.

I almost ignored it.

Then I saw the message.

You shouldn’t have come that night.

My pulse went still.

No signature. No context. Just that one line.

I looked around, the quad was empty except for a couple of students crossing in the distance. No one was looking at me. No one seemed out of place.

I typed back before I could stop myself.

Who is this?

Three dots blinked for a second, then disappeared.

No reply.