Maybe it started the day she became Benjamin's graduate student. He talked about her constantly, saying she reminded him of his younger self. But the look in his eyes was nothing like nostalgia. It was pure adoration.
Or maybe it was the time she called him crying, saying a group of male students had cornered her with unwanted confessions. Benjamin, always so calm and rational, had charged in like a hotheaded teenager and thrown punches.
When I went to bail him out, I looked at his split, bruised lip and felt something bitter settle in my chest for the first time.
He explained it away: "Maud, when I heard what happened to her, it reminded me of how you used to get bullied. I just lost it."
But the thing was, when I'd been in that exact situation, all he'd done was quietly walk me away.
...
When I woke up, I was already in the hospital.
The doctor told me with a worried expression that it was a good thing I'd been brought in quickly. I'd hit the back of my head in the fall, and there was bleeding in my brain. A little longer, and I might not have woken up at all.
I thanked him softly, had my wounds treated, and left.