Chapter 1 — Return to the Past

Noelle

The Mathematics Building loomed ahead, its sleek steel accents catching the mid-morning sun like sharp lines etched into the familiar landscape. Noelle Hall gripped the strap of her laptop bag tighter as she approached, her heels clicking in precise rhythm against the cobblestone path. The faint scent of eucalyptus mixed with the salty tang of ocean air, pulling her senses into a disorienting dance between nostalgia and unease.

Her eyes, hidden behind oversized sunglasses, scanned the ivy-covered walls she used to know so well. A decade had passed since she’d last walked this path as a starry-eyed undergrad who believed solving equations could unravel the mysteries of the universe. Now, the sight of this place—both unchanged and subtly altered—felt like encountering a younger, unguarded version of herself she’d long buried.

Inside, the air was thick with chalk dust and the sharp bitterness of coffee, a blend that struck her as both foreign and oddly comforting. Students buzzed past, their chatter a vibrant hum of nervous energy and optimism. A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. Some things, it seemed, were immune to time.

Noelle’s new office was on the third floor, tucked into a quiet corner. The space was modest but functional: a wooden desk worn smooth by decades of use, empty shelves standing at attention, and a single window offering a thin slice of ocean beyond the rooftops. She set her bag down carefully, exhaling a slow breath as she ran her fingers through her curls.

The quiet felt heavy, too still. “A fresh start,” they’d called it when she accepted the position. A chance to leave behind the relentless chaos of New York and redefine herself in a place where she wasn’t constantly battling the weight of others’ ambitions. But no matter how far she ran, her ghosts had a way of clinging to her. One ghost in particular remained stubborn, ever-present, and entirely unwelcome.

With a sharp shake of her head, Noelle turned to the nearest box and began unpacking with calculated efficiency. Academic texts formed neat stacks on her desk, framed certificates filled the empty wall space, and her final touch—a potted cactus Leah had lovingly declared “un-killable”—found a home on the windowsill. She paused, fingers brushing against a photo frame at the bottom of the box.

When she lifted it out, the breath caught in her throat. The image was from her college days, taken at the Coastal Overlook. A younger, carefree Noelle grinned back at her, arm looped around the waist of a man whose piercing blue eyes seemed to leap out of the frame even now. Caleb Ryker. His smile was broad and genuine in the photograph, full of the boyish charm that had once disarmed her completely.

The weight of the memory settled over her, heavy and invasive. For a moment, the sounds of students in the hallway faded, replaced by echoes of laughter and whispered promises carried away by the ocean breeze. She stared at the photo, the warmth of old longing colliding painfully with the cold sting of betrayal. Then, with a sharp motion, she turned the frame facedown on the desk and pressed her palms against the wood, grounding herself.

A firm knock at the door broke her reverie.

“Professor Hall?” A young woman peeked inside, her backpack slung casually over one shoulder. “I’m Olivia, from the admin office. Just wanted to welcome you and let you know there’s a faculty meeting this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Olivia,” Noelle replied, her tone measured, her professional mask slipping back into place like a well-worn coat.

“Oh, and…” Olivia hesitated, the faintest trace of unease crossing her features. “The dean’s assistant asked me to tell you he’d like to meet with you. When you’re settled, of course.”

Noelle frowned slightly. “The dean?”

“Dean Ryker,” Olivia clarified with an easy smile, as if the name carried no emotional weight. “His office is on the first floor, west wing.”

For a heartbeat, Noelle stood frozen, her grip tightening on the back of her chair. “Thank you, Olivia,” she managed finally, her voice calm even as a storm churned beneath the surface. “I’ll stop by.”

The student nodded and disappeared down the hall, leaving Noelle alone with the name ringing in her ears. Caleb Ryker. The ghost she had tried so hard to outrun had not only caught up to her but was now waiting for her just a floor below.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, the urge to call Leah surging fast and insistent. Surely her best friend—her self-appointed life coach—would have warned her if Caleb, the man who had splintered her heart and scattered the pieces, was now her boss. But Leah’s familiar teasing voice echoed in her mind: *You said you wanted a challenge, Noelle. Well, here it is.*

Noelle dropped her phone back onto the desk and let out a slow, measured breath. She had spent years crafting an unshakable professional image, refining herself into someone who could outthink, outwit, and outmaneuver anyone. She wasn’t that naive, love-struck girl anymore; she’d rebuilt herself—stronger, sharper, better. Yet the thought of facing Caleb again made her hands tremble.

She glanced at her reflection in the window, the glint of her statement earrings catching the light. A flicker of a smirk tugged at her lips. If Caleb thought he could rattle her again, he was in for a surprise.

Squaring her shoulders, Noelle gathered her bag and stepped into the hallway. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, each step deliberate as she navigated the labyrinth of glass corridors and sunlight. The faint scent of coffee mingled with sea air drifting through an open window. Students huddled over laptops in small clusters, their chatter dimming as she strode past.

When she reached the office marked “Dean Ryker,” she paused, her hand hovering over the door. Her pulse thudded steadily in her ears. Closing her eyes briefly, she inhaled the briny air and exhaled her hesitation. Then, with two sharp knocks, she turned the handle and stepped inside.

Caleb Ryker stood behind a sleek mahogany desk, the morning light casting sharp lines across his features. He was every inch the polished academic leader: tailored suit, neatly trimmed hair, and a quiet authority that filled the room like a static charge. But time had left its marks—subtle streaks of silver at his temples, faint lines around his eyes. Those eyes, still piercing and unsettlingly blue, locked onto hers with an intensity that made the air feel heavier.

“Noelle,” he said, her name low and deliberate, an intimate note buried beneath the formality.

“Dean Ryker,” she replied, her voice clipped, her expression unreadable as she closed the door behind her. Each step she took across the room was calculated, deliberate, her gaze never wavering as she met his.

“Please, have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. His tone was professional, yet his knuckles whitened slightly as he clasped his hands together.

Noelle sat, crossing her legs with an ease she didn’t quite feel. “I wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face—least of all yours.”

Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Life has a way of surprising us.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken grievances and years of unresolved history. In the quiet, Noelle’s heartbeat quickened, but her gaze remained steady, unwavering. Whatever game Caleb thought they were playing, she was determined not to lose.

She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed even as her pulse pounded. “Well, Dean Ryker,” she said, her tone as sharp as the glint in her earrings. “I suppose we’ll see just how surprising life can get.”

His eyes flickered, just for a moment. And in that flicker, she glimpsed something—regret? Pain?—before his expression smoothed into perfected neutrality.

For the first time in years, Noelle felt the thrill of uncertainty. Caleb Ryker might be a variable she hadn’t calculated for, but she wasn’t about to let him rewrite her story.