I was okay.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
Life had slowly returned to its usual rhythm after I stopped making the snacks. He continued teaching, and I stayed home, trying not to think too much about the things I couldn't control.
Then one evening, he came home and told me something that immediately changed my mood.
"One of my students wrote me a letter."
I looked at him.
"A letter?"
He nodded.
"What kind of letter?"
He hesitated for a second.
"A romantic letter."
My heart sank.
I stared at him, waiting for him to explain.
"A romantic letter from your student?"
"Yes."
I tried to remain calm.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
I frowned.
"What do you mean, nothing?"
"I didn't encourage her. I didn't respond to her that way. I just ignored it."
I watched his face carefully.
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But something inside me became uneasy.
Maybe it was because of everything I had experienced before. Maybe it was because I had learned that people could hide things behind ordinary smiles and innocent explanations.
"Did she say anything else to you?" I asked.
"No."
"Did you talk to her about it?"
"No."
I became quiet.
I didn't want to accuse him of something he hadn't done.
But I also couldn't pretend that hearing about a student sending him a romantic letter didn't bother me.
He noticed my silence.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
I looked away.
"I don't know."
The truth was that I was scared.
Not necessarily of him.
I was scared of what could happen later.
Today, it was only a letter.
Tomorrow, what would it be?
I knew how quickly innocent situations could become complicated. A student could admire a teacher today and become emotionally attached tomorrow. And if boundaries weren't kept, something that started as a harmless crush could become a serious problem.
I looked at him again.
"You have to be careful."
He nodded.
"I know."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"Don't give her any reason to think you feel the same way."
"I won't."
His answer was immediate.
But my mind wouldn't settle.
That night, I lay beside him thinking about the letter.
I wondered who the girl was.
I wondered what she had written.
I wondered why she felt comfortable enough to confess her feelings to her teacher.
And most of all, I wondered whether this would truly end with one letter.
I hated that I was thinking this way.
I didn't want to become the kind of woman who questioned everything.
I had already been through enough betrayal in my life.
I didn't want suspicion to become another thing I carried.
So I pushed the thoughts away.
I told myself to trust him.
After all, he had told me the truth.
He could have hidden the letter from me, but he didn't.
That thought calmed me a little.
Still, before I fell asleep, one thought remained in my mind.
What if the letter was only the beginning?
I didn't know it then, but sometimes fear arrives before the danger does.
And that night, my heart was warning me about something my eyes couldn't yet see.