ETHAN
Ethan saw the procedure update at 6:17 PM and felt his stomach drop so hard it was physical.
Drafts due 24 hours early.
Typed annotations.
Uniform formatting.
Assigned partners.
No self-selected partnerships.
It wasn't a rule.
It was a cage with nicer grammar.
He read Nora's text right after.
Procedure update. Assigned partners. Drafts due 24h early. We need a decoy story. Also, you cannot be seen near me in workshop.
Ethan stared at the last sentence until it blurred.
You cannot be seen near me.
It was correct.
It also hurt in a way he didn't want to admit existed.
He didn't answer immediately.
Answering was a footprint.
But silence was also a footprint if you held it too long.
He typed back one line.
Ethan: Understood. I'll act like we're strangers.
He deleted it.
Too emotional.
Too dramatic.
He typed again.
Ethan: Got it.
He hit send.
Then he sat at his desk and tried to breathe like this was just school.
Like this was just a workshop.
Like he wasn't carrying Nora's pages in a drawer because he couldn't bear the idea of someone else touching them.
His phone buzzed again.
A message from Priya.
Priya: Aldridge is in his villain era.
Ethan stared at it.
He didn't know if Priya was friend or hazard.
Probably both.
He replied anyway.
Ethan: He's assigning partners.
Priya: I know. That's why I'm texting. You need a decoy.
Ethan's throat tightened.
Nora had said the same word.
Decoy.
As if they were all animals now.
Ethan typed.
Ethan: Nora already said that.
Priya responded instantly.
Priya: Of course she did. She's the only one here with a pulse and a plan.
Ethan's mouth tightened.
Ethan: What's your plan.
Priya's dots appeared, then paused.
Then:
Priya: If he assigns me to you, we play it clean. You critique me. I critique you. We look boring. Meanwhile, Nora stays untouched.
Ethan stared.
Priya was offering herself as cover.
He didn't trust her.
He also didn't see a better option.
Ethan typed.
Ethan: And if he assigns Nora to someone else?
Priya replied.
Priya: Then we make whoever gets Nora terrified to lie about her.
Ethan blinked.
Ethan: That's not a plan.
Priya: It is if you know how people work.
Ethan didn't answer.
He locked his phone and opened his draft.
The cursor blinked like a heartbeat.
He forced his mind onto the page.
The problem was that the page now felt like a crime scene.
Every choice could be interpreted.
Every line could be weaponized.
Ethan wrote anyway.
He rewrote his opening to sound less like a confession and more like a method.
He cut any sentence that could be read as dependency.
He added more craft language.
He made his annotations sound like a textbook.
He hated himself for how quickly he learned.
By 11:58 PM, he had a draft he could submit to Aldridge without vomiting.
He printed it anyway.
Old habits.
Control habits.
Then he stopped himself.
No paper trail.
No copies.
He fed the printout back into the shredder bin in his apartment complex mailroom like he was disposing of a body.
The next day, he arrived early to the workshop.
Too early.
Aldridge liked early.
Early meant compliant.
Ethan hated that.
He sat in the second row, not next to Nora, not even in her orbit.
He picked a seat with a clear line to the door.
He watched people come in.
Hannah with her scarf too neat.
Michael with his smug grin.
Priya, bright-eyed, waving at nobody in particular like she enjoyed danger.
Then Nora.
She entered like she was late even though she wasn't.
Like she didn't want to be in the room any longer than necessary.
Her hair was pulled back.
Her face was composed.
Her eyes didn't touch Ethan.
Not once.
It was perfect.
It made Ethan's chest feel tight anyway.
Aldridge walked in last.
He carried a stack of papers like it was a holy book.
He placed it on the table.
He smiled at them like he was proud of his students.
Ethan wanted to break a chair.
"Good afternoon," Aldridge said. "We will be adjusting procedure."
No one spoke.
Aldridge looked around the room.
His gaze swept over Nora.
Then Ethan.
Then away.
Like he was checking a temperature.
"You will have assigned partners for the next two sessions," Aldridge said. "This will be non-negotiable."
He lifted a sheet.
"I have prepared pairings."
Ethan's pulse hammered.
Aldridge read the first.
"Hannah with Michael."
A soft rustle.
Michael looked pleased.
Hannah looked like she wanted to vanish.
Aldridge continued.
"Priya with Ethan."
Ethan felt his stomach flip.
Priya's smile widened.
She didn't look surprised.
So she knew.
So Aldridge had chosen this.
Cover.
Trap.
Both.
Ethan forced his face neutral.
He nodded once like he didn't care.
Aldridge read the next name.
"Nora with Daniel."
Ethan's chest went tight.
Daniel.
A quiet guy who always over-explained his metaphors and apologized for existing.
Nora didn't react.
Not visibly.
But her jaw tightened a fraction.
Aldridge didn't miss it.
He smiled, small.
"As you will notice," Aldridge said, "this prevents the formation of… predictable dependencies."
Ethan kept his eyes on his notebook.
He wrote one line to keep his hands from shaking.
Do not look at her.
Aldridge continued.
"Peer feedback will be delivered verbally in workshop," he said. "No exchange of marked drafts outside this room."
Ethan's blood went cold.
No exchange outside the room.
Aldridge had learned about the drops.
He couldn't prove it.
He didn't need to.
He was building a world where it couldn't happen again.
Priya leaned toward Ethan and whispered, barely moving her lips.
"Boring," she mouthed.
Ethan didn't respond.
Aldridge started the session.
He called on Hannah first.
Then Michael.
Then he turned to Priya and Ethan.
"Ms. Patel," he said. "Mr. Calloway. Begin."
Priya stood smoothly, like she'd rehearsed being innocent.
Ethan stood too.
He walked to the front with her, keeping his posture relaxed.
He could feel Nora's presence in the room like a magnet he wasn't allowed to touch.
Priya began her critique.
It was good.
Too good.
Craft language.
Training language.
The decoy story in action.
Ethan followed her lead.
He critiqued Priya's piece like he was grading an assignment.
He didn't mention Nora.
He didn't mention influence.
He didn't mention anything personal.
He kept it boring.
Aldridge watched them like he was watching a lab experiment.
When they sat back down, Ethan's palms were damp.
Priya leaned close again.
"So," she whispered. "Still think I talk too much?"
Ethan kept his eyes forward.
He whispered back without turning.
"Talk less," he said. "Win more."
Priya's smile sharpened.
Then Aldridge called on Nora and Daniel.
Daniel stood and looked like he was about to apologize to the air.
Nora stood like she was about to execute someone.
They walked to the front.
Not together.
Side by side, but not touching.
Nora's gaze stayed on Daniel's pages, not on Ethan, not on anyone.
Daniel began his feedback.
He was gentle.
Too gentle.
He praised Nora's imagery.
He called her work "powerful" like the word was a compliment instead of a warning.
Nora listened without expression.
Then it was her turn.
Nora's feedback was surgical.
She dismantled Daniel's piece without raising her voice.
She did not humiliate him.
She did something worse.
She made him see every weakness.
Daniel's face went pale.
Aldridge watched, pleased.
When they returned to their seats, Ethan's throat tightened.
Nora had done what she always did.
She had made the room respect her.
She had also made the room afraid.
Aldridge concluded the session with a smile.
"Excellent," he said. "You see what happens when we remove distractions."
Ethan's jaw clenched.
Distractions.
That was what Aldridge called collaboration.
That was what Aldridge called Nora.
As the workshop ended, people gathered their things.
Ethan stayed seated, waiting.
Motion.
Public.
No meeting.
No confession.
Priya tapped his notebook with a fingernail.
"Walk," she whispered.
Ethan stood.
He and Priya moved with the crowd.
Nora moved with Daniel.
Aldridge stood by the door, watching exit routes like he owned them.
Ethan kept his pace steady.
He did not look at Nora.
He did not turn his head.
He did not give Aldridge a story.
But as they passed the hallway mirror, Ethan caught one reflection.
Nora's eyes.
For half a second.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Furious.
And Ethan understood the real purpose of assigned partners.
Aldridge wasn't separating them to stop them.
He was separating them to see which one would break first.