The drive back from the university is entirely too short.
I spend the first twenty minutes staring at the small, handwritten note from Professor Liang tucked into the side pocket of my bag, and the next twenty staring out the window as the city streets gradually turn into the familiar, quiet roads leading to the estate. My thumb keeps tracing the edge of my notebook, right over the page where I scribbled *Tell him*.
I had a whole scenario worked out by the time the car cleared the main gates. It was safe. It had structure. I would go up to my room, take a bath, wash the lingering smell of university ink and nervous sweat off my skin, and work in the study until the evening.
Around seven o'clock, when Bael comes back, I would wait for him to show up in the study, and deliver the news cleanly, across a piece of dark wood, with plenty of space between us to keep things manageable.
That was the plan.
