Love with a teacher

I impulsively married a college professor. Mark, 29, PhD, the whole package. Good-looking, stable job, and best of all, no in-laws. My mom said snagging a guy like him was winning the lottery. Blinded by his charm and a whirlwind romance, we tied the knot after two weeks of dating.

Two weeks into married life, I was having second thoughts. He was distant, and we had absolutely nothing in common. He was an early bird, in bed by ten and up with the sun. I was a night owl, barely functioning before noon. On our wedding night, I had my period, and he politely retreated to the guest room. For two weeks, we were more like roommates than newlyweds. I couldn’t stand this living-widow situation any longer.

I decided to talk to Mark about a divorce. I went to his office, but a young student beat me to the door.

"Close the door? Open the door," Mark's voice, tinged with annoyance, came from inside.

The girl reluctantly opened the door, and I stood there awkwardly.

"If it’s not urgent, I'd reschedule," she whispered with a sympathetic sigh.

Intrigued, I stayed put.

“Professor Davis, did you have a chance to look at my thesis? You need to sign the approval form…”

Mark sat behind his desk, looking dapper in a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing.

"This…this is what you call a thesis? Abraham Lincoln wouldn't sign this. It’s supposed to be a first draft, not a rough sketch. The title’s great, all proper English words, but strung together they make absolutely no sense.”

I was stunned. In the two weeks we'd been married, Mark and I had barely spoken, but I never pegged him for this level of savagery. I guess academics have their own unique way of insulting people.

He continued flipping through the pages, his face darkening with every turn.

"What kind of formatting is this? Did you invent it? Can you guess my mental state after reading this? I feel like my brain is Swiss cheese. What are you even researching? And remove my name from the acknowledgments. Don't guilt-trip me. Do you even want to graduate?"

The girl stood there, on the verge of tears. The fear of a failed thesis is universal; I couldn't help but sympathize. And who knew, the man of few words I married could talk this much!

He tossed the paper onto his desk and looked up, his eyes meeting mine. Surprise flickered across his face. "Sarah, what are you doing here?" His expression softened, and he walked over, taking my hand. "Why didn’t you come in?"

The student looked at me like I was her savior, but also like a juicy piece of gossip. I awkwardly waved.

Mark introduced me. "My wife."

The girl's eyes lit up. "Mrs. Davis! Wow, Professor, you’re married! You’re so young, Mrs. Davis. When did you get married?"

Mark interrupted, "If you channeled this energy into your studies, your thesis wouldn’t read like a Wattpad novel."

"Sorry Professor, I’ll go now…” she mumbled and scurried out, leaving Mark and me alone.

We sta...