I stared at the envelope in my hands. I did not know why I was doing this. A part of me was apprehensive about the result while another part of me was eager to see what the response would be. I did not know when I had become this defiant, going against my better judgement but what did I really know about better judgement? Before, my better judgment was nothing but a fear of the consequences without actually ever knowing them for sure. Even today, I cannot say whether it is better to speak or move on because both are equally challenging in their own right and there is never a right answer. So this is all I have, small acts of defiance that do neither and keep me suspended in the middle because the middle is easier. I can tell myself that I am moving on when in reality all I am doing is finding more ways to hold on because I'm too old for the possibility of anything like this ever happening again.

I wish I could remember when and how all this started. I always pretend it started at the party, drenched in the euphoria of the moment when for that sliver of time, we were not of this world. Although, I do not believe that in its entirety, I think it began long before that. I would never admit it to anyone out loud, but I have always believed it began when we were behind the four walls of a mess of a room which I called my office surrounded with papers and books and files, some of which were important and others were just there because they either held too high a nostalgic value or I simply was too lazy to throw them out. She had come to me with her book. It was her first time writing in a structure. She worked with a travel magazine and wrote articles about mesmerising places in pockets of the world that not many people knew about. I had secretly read all of them without ever telling anyone, even her. Reading that made me want to see the world but I was too afraid to ever venture out of the city let alone the country. She always made me want to be different.

I remember it like it was yesterday, hearing that unsure knock on the open door of my office. I was so engrossed in work, that I involuntarily told her to come back during office hours the next morning.

"I'm not one of your students!" I glanced up and that was the first time I saw her, and I mean really saw her. She was wearing a lavender shirt with sleek black trousers; that paired with her short hair and thin round glasses made her look very much like she could be one of my students and yet there was something in her eyes and the way she held herself that was so mature that made it impossible for her to be my student. She had composed herself in a manner that seemed to say 'I mean business'.

"Well, you could've fooled me!" I said with a grin in an attempt to ease her nervousness. She just gave me a smile, without moving from the door. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes and adjusted my unruly hair. I had really short hair back then just like she always kept hers. She always looked so smart, I looked like a schoolboy who hadn't yet hit puberty.

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess. Grading assignments has never been my strong suit." I put my glasses back on and noticed that she was still standing at the door quite awkwardly. "Come in, sit. It's Ariel isn't it?" She looked surprised that I remembered who she was.

We first met a couple of months ago, at brunch at a mutual friend's place and we kept meeting for brunch on the first Sunday of every month after that. Eric loved being surrounded by the people he loved and he loved large extravagant parties too, so Sunday brunch was, according to his husband Ryan 'a stroke of pure genius!' We had a blast when they did it the first time and so they kept doing it. Some sundays there were more people, some sundays there were less but Ariel like myself seemed to be a constant.

I do not know why we had never spoken before. She always seemed so far away. There was always that ocasional smile from across the room or the passionate group conversations or the jokes and laughter but never anything else. Never anything real. All conversions we had had were facades and mirages. Maybe the seeds of it all took root right then in those stolen smiles between the jokes and behind masks and I never noticed it or maybe I took those interactions for granted just like I took her presence for granted after she walked into my office that night thinking she would always be a part of my life. I wish I had known, what I know now that night in the office, I would have done so many things differently. This is not any form of regret speaking it is but a curiosity of whether the consequences of it all would have been different had I done things a little differently.

"You remember me?" She asked, the surprise blatantly obvious on her face but her nervousness seemed to have subsided a little. I could not comprehend how to answer that question. I remembered her, of course I did! How could anyone not!

Even though my interaction with her had been limited, whenever she said anything it was always so wise, it at times made me question my qualifications and the way she carried herself, so liberated and yet mindful of the world. I had never met anybody quite like her. "How could anyone forget someone as unique as you?" I replied, I did not know any other answer to her question.

She blushed.

It was not my intention to sound flirtatious, I had said it as a genuine compliment. "Ariel, please sit down, you've just been standing there ever since you came in!" I said in a desperate attempt to deflect from my comment.

Her gaze dropped to the floor. She looked flustered and more nervous than she had been when she came. I felt horrible. I could not even make her feel welcome without making her feel embarrassed in the process. She sat down hesitantly on the other side of my desk and nervously eyed the stack of sheets in front of me. "Maybe this isn't a good time. I can come back later! This is not that important."

"Oh Nonsense! This is an everyday thing for me! Please do tell, what brings you here?"

"I'm actually writing a book."

"Oh Wow! That's amazing!"

"Thanks! I actually spoke with Eric and he said that I could turn to you if I ever wanted any help."

That is why she was here. I did not know what to say. I was an English professor but I had never written a book ever in my life. I felt I was not qualified enough to coach her on something I myself had not yet achieved. How was I to explain this to her without coming off as patronising or disingenuous. She seemed mortified to be asking this of me. What had Eric told her about me? I was not the kind of person people were generally intimidated by much less scared of.

"Ms.Johnson, I don't want to trouble you! This is only and only if you're willing to!"

"Dear God! Ms Johnson! I just felt like I'm 50! Ariel please! Its Sylvia!"

"Okay, Sylvia." A smile appeared on her face for the first time. "I take it, you're not 50 then?" Her tone suggested she was teasing me.

I smiled. She was starting to loosen up. It cheered me. "You were born only two years after I was so unless you're 48, no, I'm not 50." I said in an attempt keep the banter going. Her smile grew at my response. "Got it!" She gave me a curt and militaristic 'yes ma'am' nod in an attempt to get me to laugh, which she succeeded in doing.

For a second, our gaze locked. Her eyes seemed to have a spark and I caught myself thinking that I could stare into them for the rest of eternity. It was probably the best way to spend an eternity; trapped in the most beautiful eyes I had ever encountered. Eyes truly are the window to the soul because in hers I saw infinite kindness and capacity for good and the spark that needed only ignition and within no time, it would take the world by storm. In that very second I fell. I will never admit it to myself ever again but I knew what was happening and I chose to lock it away in my heart because I never thought anything would ever come of it. My days of unrequited love were far past me. As much as I would have liked to be, I was not in my twenties anymore.

"So you'll do it?" She broke the silence but not our gaze. Her nervousness seemed to have melted away. Her eyes were so full of hope, it made my heart ache.

I wanted to say yes but what if I was not good enough? I glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. It was getting late. It was possible that she would leave if I gave her an answer right away. I enjoyed her company and wanted her to stay for just a little while longer. "First, tell me more about the book." I knew it was selfish of me to do this but I wanted to hold onto her company for just a little longer.

Her face lit up and her entire body sprang into action. Within a second, a burning passion had been ignited within her that ran rampant in my tiny office. She was brighter than the sun glowing on the brightest day. It made me smile. I had not yet heard her complete idea but in that moment, I knew I was going to say yes. Overwhelmed or not, underqualified or not, I wanted to do it for the sake of that fireball of burning passion before my eyes. I knew she had it in her to achieve whatever she dared to dream and if this was her dream and if she believed she needed a little push from me to get there, then who was I to argue? Is that not what being a professor was all about in the end? Guiding people, showing them the path they are meant to walk on. There was no doubt about it; I was going to help her.

"I'll do it!"