Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 210

Sophie’s POV

I wake in my childhood bedroom to sunlight streaming through familiar curtains and the sound of my sisters arguing in the hallway. For a moment, I'm disoriented—then reality crashes back.

Wedding day.

Tradition kept Adrian and me apart last night. The bed feels too big without him, but there's something fitting about waking here, in the room where I grew up, before taking this final step into my future.

Emma appears with coffee and a knowing smile. "Ready to become Mrs. Lewis?"

What follows is controlled chaos. My sisters help me into the wedding gown—careful with the delicate lace, the countless buttons, the train that pools behind me.

Cleo manages everything with practiced efficiency, fielding calls from the venue, confirming timing, making sure every detail aligns perfectly.

The dress fits perfectly, the veil is secured with pearl pins. My makeup is flawless. When I finally look at myself in the full-length mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back.

A bride. Today, I become Mrs. Lewis.

My emotions are complicated—excitement mixed with nerves, love laced with lingering doubts. But I've made my choice. I'm marrying Adrian.

Dad appears, tears filling his eyes when he sees me. "Oh, Sophie. You're beautiful."

"Don't make me cry," I warn, but my own voice is thick.

He takes both my hands. "Are you sure? Really sure? Because if you have any doubts—it's not too late."

"I'm sure, Dad." I squeeze his hands, hoping I sound more certain than I feel. "I love him. I'm ready."

He studies my face, then nods. "Bellamy is downstairs to drive you to the church. I'll follow with Amelia and everyone else separately—the photographer wants shots before the ceremony."

Before we leave, I go to see Amelia. She's dressed in a tiny ivory gown that matches mine. When she sees me, she babbles happily, reaching toward my veil.

"Not the veil, little one," I murmur, kissing her cheek. She has no idea what today means. The simplicity of that makes my throat tight.

Bellamy is waiting by the car in a dark suit, and when he sees me descending the front steps, something shifts in his expression. For a moment, the professional mask slips completely.

"Sophie." My name comes out rough, almost reverent. "You look... gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous."

The compliment catches me off guard. There's something in his eyes—pain and admiration and longing all twisted together—that makes my chest tighten.

But then he catches himself, the mask sliding back into place as he opens the car door.

I settle into the back seat, arranging my dress carefully so the train doesn't wrinkle. As Bellamy closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, I take a deep breath.

Everything is going to be fine, I tell myself. Better than fine. My intuition, the same instinct that's been screaming warnings for weeks, suddenly quiets.

Today is my day. My wedding day. And it's going to be wonderful. Adrian is waiting for me. Our family and friends are gathering.

In a few hours, I'll be married to the man I love, and all these doubts and complications will fade into memory.

Today will be perfect. I can feel it.

The drive starts in silence. I watch familiar streets pass, thinking about his confession in the alley. I'd come running. Immediately. Without question. The words I've been pushing away for days.

"Thank you," I say suddenly. "For agreeing to come to the wedding. I know Adrian made that difficult."

Bellamy's jaw tightens but he doesn't respond.

I check my reflection in a compact mirror, adjust my veil. My heart races—normal bride nerves. Adrian is waiting. In thirty minutes I'll walk down that aisle.

We're ten minutes from the church. I can see the steeple in the distance. The sight should calm me.

"We're making good time," I say.

Bellamy approaches an intersection. The church is straight ahead, clearly visible.

Then he turns left—away from the church, toward the highway.

"Bellamy? The church is that way."

He doesn't respond. Just keeps driving, speed increasing.

"Bellamy, what are you doing? We need to go back or we’ll be late for the wedding."

His voice is calm but absolute. "We're not going to the church, Sophie."

"What?" I laugh nervously. "You chose the worst time for jokes. This isn't funny. Turn around."

"I can't let you do this." He accelerates further. "I can't watch you marry him."

The reality crashes over me like ice water. This isn't a wrong turn—this is deliberate.

"Bellamy, stop the car. Right now." Panic claws up my throat. "This is insane. You need to turn around!"

"I can't." His hands are white-knuckled on the wheel. "Every time I tried to walk away, I kept thinking—what if I'm letting you make a mistake?"

"That's not your decision to make!" I'm shouting now. "You don't get to decide this for me!"

But he doesn't stop. We merge onto the highway, the church disappearing behind us.

I grab for my phone but my hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. No reception. We're in a dead zone, the screen showing just one flickering bar.

"Where are you taking me?" My voice breaks. "Bellamy, please. This is crazy. People are waiting. Adrian…"

"I know." His voice is strained. "But I can't watch you marry him when I know part of you doesn't want to."

The highway stretches ahead. Then Bellamy takes an exit I don't recognize. Not toward town. Not toward anything familiar.

Toward woods.

Dense forest on both sides of the two-lane road. No houses. No cars. Just trees pressing in, swallowing us.

"Bellamy..." My voice rises with fresh panic. "Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer, just keeps driving deeper into territory I've never seen before. The road gets narrower, the trees thicker. Cell reception drops to nothing.

I try my phone again. No signal. No GPS. The screen is useless. The trees are everywhere now. Dense, dark, pressing in from both sides.

The road is barely a road anymore—rutted dirt, overgrown, like no one has driven here in years.

"Bellamy, please." My voice breaks. "What are you planning to do?"

Bellamy's hands tighten on the wheel. What if they tighten around my throat too, if I don't give him what he wants?..

Horror floods through me. We're going somewhere remote. Somewhere no one will think to look. Somewhere no one will find us.

"This is kidnapping," I whisper. "You're kidnapping me on my wedding day."

"I'm giving you space to think," he corrects, but there's something desperate in his voice. "Time to be honest about what you really want without everyone else's expectations drowning you out."

The trees are so thick now they block most of the sunlight. The road has become barely more than a path. We're somewhere no one will think to look. Somewhere no one will find us.

Adrian is at the church, waiting, wondering where I am. In minutes he'll realize something's wrong. He'll call. He'll panic. He'll search.

But he won't know where to search. No one will.

Because I'm here, in the back of this car, my wedding dress spread around me like a costume for a performance I'm no longer giving, being driven deeper into woods where no one will find me.

Bellamy keeps driving. The road keeps narrowing. The trees keep pressing closer.

And I realize with dawning, terrible clarity: I'm trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.

With the man who just destroyed my wedding because he decided—without asking, without permission—that he knew better than me what I wanted. And I have no idea what he’s about to do next.

My hands shake as I clutch my phone. The white dress feels suffocating, the veil feels like a shroud.

I'm here. In these woods. With Bellamy.

Going somewhere no one will find us. Possibly ever.