Chapter 2

Viviane’s office on the Emory campus was a quiet corner room with a window overlooking a small courtyard. The space felt orderly and calm in the way Viviane preferred—shelves of neatly labeled binders, a clean desk, and two comfortable chairs for the occasional student or colleague. Late afternoon light came in through the blinds, but the room stayed cool and dim. It was the kind of place Suvi had started coming to more and more when the weight of the day grew too heavy.

Today Suvi sat in the chair across from the desk, knees pulled up slightly, a crumpled tissue in her hands. Her eyes were red and puffy, fresh tears still slipping free even though she kept trying to wipe them away. The petite red-head looked smaller than usual, curled in on herself. Viviane sat in her own chair, leaning forward slightly, her tall frame composed but her blue eyes showing a mix of concern and the faint edge of annoyance she tried not to let show too clearly.

“It was just a tech from the next lab,” Suvi said, voice thick and wavering. “He came by our bench looking for a reagent and asked, all casual-like, ‘Where’s your boyfriend today?’ Khoi is out sick. Just a cold. But the way he said it ... with that little smirk. Like everyone knows. Like it’s this big thing.” A fresh wave of tears came and she pressed the tissue to her eyes. “I didn’t know what to say. I just laughed it off and said he was sick. But inside I felt so ... exposed. And guilty. And ... I don’t even know.”

Viviane exhaled slowly, folding her hands on the desk. She had heard the whispers herself for weeks now. The lab was small enough that the closeness between Suvi and Khoi had become noticeable—lunches together almost every day, the way he lingered to help her with protocols, the quiet conversations at the bench that went on longer than strictly necessary. It was becoming too obvious to ignore.