His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

They walked together toward the lecture hall, the afternoon sun warm on their faces.

Karl was standing by the door, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes scanning the hallway. When he saw them, his shoulders relaxed.

"You’re late," he said.

"Sorry," Mira said, her voice still thick from crying.

Karl looked at her, at her red eyes, at her slightly damp cheeks. His expression softened.

"You okay?" he asked.

Mira nodded. "I will be," she said.

Karl didn’t push. He just held the door open, and they walked inside.

They found their seats near the window. Bella sat between Mira and Karl.

Mira stared at the whiteboard, but she wasn’t seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the scene in the hallway, Noah’s lazy smile, the way his eyes had slid past her like she was invisible.

She glanced at Bella, who was already taking notes, her pen moving smoothly across the page.

"Thank you," Mira whispered.

Bella looked up, her brown eyes warm. "Anytime," she said softly.

Mira turned back to the board, her heart a little lighter.

Karl glanced at her, then at Bella, then back at his own notebook. He didn’t say anything. But the tightness in his jaw eased, just a little.

The professor’s voice filled the room, droning on about algorithms and data structures.

Mira tried to focus. Tried to take notes. But every time she closed her eyes, she remembered how Noah had looked at Bella. How he hadn’t looked at her.

She bit her lip and kept writing.

**

After class, they walked out together. The sun was lower now, the shadows longer.

"I’m going to the library," Mira said. "I need to return a book."

"I’ll come with you," Bella said.

Karl nodded. "I’ll walk with you," he added.

They walked across campus in comfortable silence. Students passed them in clusters, laughing, talking, their voices echoing off the buildings.

At the library, Mira returned her book, and they stood outside for a moment, the evening breeze cool on their faces.

"Same time tomorrow?" Mira asked.

Bella smiled. "Same time tomorrow," she said.

Karl nodded. "I’ll be there," he said simply.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

In the blink of an eye, a week had passed.

Bella had settled into the rhythm of college life more quickly than she expected. The hallways that once felt like mazes now felt familiar. The faces that once blurred together now had names and stories. She knew which coffee shop had the best espresso, which library floor was quietest, which professor took attendance and which one didn’t care.

She had made friends. Mostly girls. Girls who sat next to her in class, who shared their notes, who invited her to sit with them at lunch. Girls with bright smiles and loud laughs and messy backpacks covered in pins and keychains.

Bella loved them.

She kept her distance from the boys, though. Not because she didn’t like them. Some of them were kind, funny, genuinely nice. But every time she thought about making a guy friend, she pictured Leo’s face. His gray eyes darkening like a stormy sky. His jaw tightening. The way he had looked at her when she mentioned Karl’s name.

She laughed to herself, shaking her head.

No, thank you. She didn’t need a jealous husband on top of everything else.

So apart from Karl, she didn’t make any male friends. Karl was different. Karl was safe. Karl treated her and Mira like a sister. Annoying, protective, occasionally judgmental, but always there.

And honestly, she understood Leo. If he came home talking about a new female friend, someone beautiful and smart and funny, she would feel a twist in her chest too. So she kept her distance. Out of respect. Out of love.

Karl was the exception. And Karl was enough.

She also finally learned who Krystal was.

Krystal wasn’t on campus this week. She was on leave, somewhere far away on a trip, posting photos of beaches and cocktails and expensive sunsets. Bella had only seen her in pictures. The kind of girl who looked good in every frame, who didn’t need to try, who seemed to glow even in candid shots.

But Karl had told her everything.

According to him, Krystal was a bitch. A two-faced friend who treated Mira like a shoe. Useful for wiping dirt, easily discarded, never appreciated. She would compliment Mira in one breath and mock her in the next. She would ask for help with homework and then roll her eyes when Mira explained it too slowly. She would show up at Mira’s table only when her other friends were busy, only when she needed something, only when it was convenient.

"She’s toxic," Karl had said, his voice flat. "But Mira doesn’t see it."

Because Krystal had a difficult past. She had opened up to Mira once, late at night, tears in her eyes. So Mira always thought trauma had made Krystal harden up, that she feared every relationship because of what she had been through.

Krystal helped Mira sometimes too. Small things. A ride home when her car wouldn’t start. A coffee when she was having a bad day. A compliment when she was feeling invisible.

And Mira, desperate for crumbs of kindness, treated Krystal like a goddess.

And Noah was a friend of Krystal’s.

Recently, Noah and Mira had become closer. He sat with her at lunch sometimes. Walked her to class. Texted her late at night.

Mira was glowing. She talked about him constantly. What he said, what he wore, the way he smiled. She interpreted every small gesture as a sign, every casual word as a promise.

Karl and Bella exchanged worried glances.

They both knew Noah. They had seen the way he looked at Bella. Hungry, appraising, like she was something to be collected. And they knew he wasn’t only interested in Bella. He had other girls too. Friends with benefits. One night stands. A reputation that followed him down every hallway.

But Mira didn’t see it. Or maybe she did, and she didn’t care.

"He’s different with me," she would say, her voice dreamy, her eyes far away.

Bella wanted to shake her. Wanted to grab her by the shoulders and say, He’s not different. You’re just convenient.

But she didn’t. She held back. She didn’t know Mira well enough yet to push that hard. She didn’t have the right.

Karl, however, wasn’t as patient.

"He’s playing you," he told Mira one day, his voice flat and cold.

Mira’s face crumpled. "You don’t know him," she said, her voice defensive.

"I know his type," Karl replied.

"You’re just jealous," Mira shot back, her eyes flashing.

Karl’s jaw tightened. "I’m not jealous," he said through gritted teeth. "I’m worried."

Mira had walked away, her shoulders hunched, her phone clutched to her chest like a shield.

Karl had stood there, watching her go, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

Bella had touched his arm. "You can’t force her to see it," she said gently.

"I know." His voice was quiet, almost defeated. "But I can’t just watch her get hurt either."

Bella didn’t have an answer for that.