LEO'S POV
I was sitting in my office, staring at the same piece of sheet music I'd been trying to focus on for the past hour, when my phone rang.
Sullivan's name appeared on the screen, and my stomach immediately clenched.
This was it. The call that would end my career.
"Hello, Richard," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Leo, can you come to my office? We need to talk."
"I'll be right there."
The walk down the hallway felt like a death march. Students passed me in the corridor, some of them whispering and pointing. Word had clearly spread about the disciplinary committee meeting. About Zoe's public declaration.
I knocked on Sullivan's door and heard his familiar voice call out, "Come in."
Richard Sullivan had been head of the music department for five years, and we'd been friends even longer. We'd started as colleagues when I first joined the faculty, bonding over late-night conversations about music theory and shared complaints about administrative bureaucracy.
If anyone was going to break the news gently, it would be him.
"Sit down, Leo," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
I sat, preparing myself for the worst. "Let me guess. The committee wants me gone by the end of the week."
Sullivan looked at me with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Actually, no. That's not why you're here."
I blinked. "It's not?"
"The disciplinary committee met for three hours and we've decided not to pursue termination."
"What?"
"You're keeping your job, Leo. You're staying on faculty."
I stared at him, sure I'd misheard. "I don't understand. How is that possible?"
Sullivan leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Because I went to bat for you. Because I told them exactly what kind of man you are."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I reminded them that you've been a model faculty member for seven years. I told them about your dedication to your students, your contributions to the department, your spotless record before this incident."
"But the video—"
"The video shows two consenting adults sharing a kiss. Nothing more, nothing less."
I was still trying to process this information. "Richard, I violated the faculty-student relationship policy. There's no gray area here."
"Actually, there is." He pulled out a thick manual from his desk drawer. "I spent all afternoon reading through the policy guidelines. The prohibition specifically applies to 'ongoing romantic or sexual relationships that compromise the educational environment.'"
"How is this not compromising the educational environment?"
"Because it was one kiss, Leo. One moment of human connection between two people who've been through trauma. And more importantly, because both of you immediately recognized it was inappropriate and took steps to maintain professional boundaries afterward."
"We did?"
"According to Miss Washington's testimony, yes. She told the committee that you've avoided personal contact with her since returning from Los Angeles. That you've been strictly professional in all your interactions."
That was true. I had been avoiding her, trying to pretend my feelings didn't exist.
"Richard, I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Just don't make me regret sticking my neck out for you."
"How did you convince them?"
Sullivan smiled. "I told them the truth. That you're a decent man who wouldn't do anything to tarnish the reputation of this conservatory. That you've dedicated your life to music education and helping students reach their potential."
"That's it?"
"I also mentioned that you've been single for three years. That nobody on this faculty has ever seen you with a woman, has never heard you make an inappropriate comment about a student, has never questioned your professionalism."
I thought about the lonely nights in my apartment, the empty weekends, the way I'd thrown myself into work to avoid dealing with my grief.
"I told them about Elena," Sullivan continued quietly. "About what you've been through. About how losing her broke something in you that we've all been worried about."
"You told them about Elena?"
"I told them that if Leo Mercer developed feelings for someone, it wasn't because he was some predator looking to take advantage of young women. It was because he'd found someone who made him want to live again."
I felt my throat tighten with emotion. "Richard—"
"The committee agreed. They said that context matters, and that your personal history suggests this was an anomaly, not a pattern of behavior."
"So what happens now?"
"Now you go back to teaching. You finish out the semester with Miss Washington as your student. And in three months, when she graduates, what you do with your personal life is nobody's business but your own."
I sat there in stunned silence, trying to absorb what he was telling me.
"There is one condition," Sullivan added.
"What's that?"
"Absolutely no personal contact with Miss Washington until after she graduates. No private meetings outside of scheduled lessons. No trips, no dinners, no walks on the beach."
"Of course."
"The committee is giving you both a second chance, Leo. Don't blow it."
"I won't."
Sullivan studied my face for a long moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you really care about her? Miss Washington?"
I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. Admitting my feelings out loud felt like crossing another line, even though the secret was already out.
"Yes," I said finally. "I do."
"Is it real? Or is it just loneliness and proximity and a pretty face?"
"It's real." The words came out stronger this time. "She's... she's extraordinary, Richard. Her talent, her passion, her heart. She makes me remember why I fell in love with music in the first place."
Sullivan nodded slowly. "I thought so. I could see it in your face during the committee meeting. The way you looked at her."
"Is it that obvious?"
"To someone who's known you for years? Yes."
I stood up to leave, still trying to process the fact that I wasn't being fired. That I had a future at the conservatory. That in three months, I might actually have a chance with Zoe.
"Leo," Sullivan called as I reached the door.
"Yeah?"
"Washington is a good girl. Smart, talented, strong-willed. You made a good choice."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"One more thing," he said.
"What's that?"
"Have you told her how you feel? I mean really told her?"
I shook my head. "No. I've been trying to maintain professional distance."
"Well, after what she said to the committee today, I think she's made her feelings pretty clear."
"She has."
"So maybe it's time you did the same."
"Richard, I can't. Not for three months. You just said—"
"I said no personal contact. I didn't say you couldn't have a conversation about where you both stand. About what might be possible in the future."
I stared at him. "You think I should tell her?"
"I think that girl just risked her entire academic career to defend you. I think she stood up to her uncle, defied the disciplinary committee, and announced to half the conservatory that she's in love with you."
I swallowed hard.
"I know," I murmured. "I just... I didn’t expect her to actually say it."
He gave me a look: steady, firm.
"Well, she did, Leo. So maybe it’s time you stop pretending you don’t feel the same. Tell her. Before it’s too late."