Chapter 28
VIVIENNE
I look over my NMRs one last time, referencing the molecule drawn in my modeling software.
Same number of carbons.
Same number of hydrogens.
Did I just make my final product?
I squeal as I fall back into my chair, kicking my feet in the air from excitement.
This was it. The numbers spoke for themselves. I did it. I fucking did it! And the thought alone is enough to bring me to tears—joyous ones for once.
My head is already buzzing at the thought of testing my compound in cells, but first, I need to call Nate…and Evelyn, and Sutton, and Phil, and Margaret.
But most importantly, Nate, because if it weren’t for the hours I spent reviewing literature while he worked away at his presentation, I wouldn’t find myself here.
“What’s with all the screaming?” Arjun’s head pops up from behind me, eyes tracing the peaks of my H-NMR. “Another failed experiment?”
Frustration wells up inside me at the absurdity of his question, but I manage to resist the urge to punch him. This is a happy moment, one that I have worked so damn hard for. The last thing I need is for him to dampen my mood.
“Quite the contrary, actually.” I try my hardest to smile at him, but it’s tight and forced. “I made my final product.”
“You sure?” He circles a finger at the screen of my laptop. “You didn’t integrate all your peaks.”
My heart drops to my stomach as I swivel back to my screen, horrified that he could be right, before it dissipates into annoyance.
Technically, he’s not wrong—there were a few peaks that weren’t integrated. But he knows better than anyone that it’s solvent. The chemical shifts spoke for themselves. So why even mention it?
“Arjun!” Nora exclaims as she walks into the grad offices with a pep to her step.
His eyes crinkle at the corners at the sight of her. “How was the organic chemistry midterm?” he asks, starting a normal and pleasant conversation so easily with someone who isn’t me.
“I think it went well.” Nora smiles, shooting him a thumbs-up.
Arjun puts his hand up for her, and she meets it with a crisp high five. “Always knew you could do it! You’re the organic chemistry master, after all.” I shift my attention back to my laptop, disappointment riddling in my chest at the scene that’s unfolded.
Everyone but me. How is it that he’s always nice to everyone but me?
I try not to let the sadness spoil my happy moment, but it’s hard when I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment. A tear slips out on its own, and I swipe it away before rolling out of my chair, grabbing my things, and hurrying to the nearest washroom.
Glossy eyes. A red nose. Slightly flushed face.
The sight of myself in the poorly lit mirror disappoints me.
I hate how he has this effect on me. I hate how he’s made me believe that I can’t accomplish the things I set my mind to. But before I have the chance to gather myself, the bathroom door swings open.
The sound makes me flinch, and I’m hiding my face from whoever’s walking in when she says, “What’s wrong, Vivienne?”
I turn to find Evelyn, her brows furrowed and her lips curved downward. She looks like a sad teddy bear in her skirt, signature knee-high boots, and blouse combo.
If I weren’t so adamant on hiding this part of my lab life, I’d force her to drop her books in her arms and embrace me in the fattest hug.
“I made my molecule!” I try my best to sound excited, but it’s hollow.
Evelyn’s frown deepens. “Those don’t look like happy tears.”
I shift my gaze down to the floor, not wanting to rehash my earlier thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately for me, that girl knows everything, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s caught me in a similar state.
“It’s Arjun, isn’t it?” She huffs, rolling her eyes.
“Say the words, Vivienne, and I’ll gladly sacrifice my medical degree to do all kinds of fucked-up, nasty, and illegal things to him.
Just focus on the good—you made your compound.
” Evelyn squeezes my shoulder in reassurance.
“And you got the guy. What more could you ask for?”
When I meet her with a flat-lipped smile, she only mirrors my expression.
“What?” Evelyn asks as if she already knows she’s right. “Don’t think we haven’t taken note of your absence from your bed these past three weeks.”
My eyes widen at her confrontation, and a feral blush creeps up my cheeks.
I thought I’d been discreet, sneaking out of the apartment from the fire escape rather than the front door, but I guess they’ve caught on.
Although Nate’s and my nights usually ended with the activities she’s hinting at with the playful wiggle of her brows, it was no longer about that.
We also got together for the smaller things. Cooking dinner. Watching rom-coms. Talking about each other’s days, worries, and accomplishments.
Our lives had gotten increasingly busier since we’ve come back from Chicago, and evenings were the only times we got to see each other.
Obviously, I haven’t invited Nate over to our place so openly yet, and judging by her reaction, I made the right choice. They’d tie the poor guy to a chair and never let him out.
“Have you told him yet?” Evelyn asks.
“About the compound?”
I pull out my phone to do just that. Nate answers immediately, and the smile that spreads across my face is painfully bright.
Vivienne: You know all those hours we spent working at the hotel. It all paid off. I made my compound!
Nate: That’s my girl. I always knew you could do it. I’d say that calls for a celebration.
Warmth spreads through me at his use of my girl, and though I try to shove back the butterflies in their cage, it’s too late. They've been fluttering widely these past few weeks.
“Have you told him that you like him?” Evelyn clarifies her question.
My face falls.
We decided to go with the flow, take things easy, and not think too much about what might happen after the engagement is over.
We do still pay our dues and go on our one public date a week for appearances’ sake, but the rest, we try to keep to ourselves. Things are going well in our professional and private lives—there’s no need to ruin something good over unwanted external pressures.
“You do realize he likes you back. Right, Vivienne?” Evelyn continues her line of interrogation like it’s obvious.
I walk out of the bathroom in the hopes of avoiding this conversation when the click-clacking of her heels follows me.
“Vivienne!” she whisper-yells. “Get back here, you little rascal.”
I’m still scurrying past endless rows of lockers and students when I stop, stunned by the man walking toward me. The same must apply to Evelyn, judging from the sharp sound of her heels coming to an abrupt stop.
“Vivienne!” Dr. Anderson cheers excitedly, a large white box brimming with papers in his hand.
If I’m not mistaken, those are the organic chemistry midterms from earlier today—they have to be. Nothing else would smell like salty tears and fear.
“Nora told me you were screaming from happiness in the lab,” he muses.
I nod in confirmation. “I was just about to update you on that. Do you have a few minutes to spare?”
“Of course. I’ll be in my office. You can walk in whenever.” Dr. Anderson smiles once more before rounding the corner.
I turn my attention back to Evelyn, who’s deeply enthralled with her phone, thumbs typing aggressively despite the mountains of books nuzzled between her arms. A caller by the name of Agent Andrea pops up on her screen, but she declines the call with a grumble before looking up at me.
“Who’s Agent Andrea?” I ask out of curiosity.
Her blue eyes widen like she’s been caught. “Well, would you look at that!” Evelyn points at her empty wrist. “I think it’s time for you to go and for me to conveniently attend my next class. Goodbye.”
The blonde pivots without another word, glancing back every so often as her speed quickens.
I laugh at her reaction, shaking my head in disbelief as I make my way to Dr. Anderson’s office. Just like he mentioned, the door was left wide open, but I knock on it anyway.
“Hi, Doctor,” I say with a shy smile.
He gestures to the armchair across from his L-shaped wooden desk.
“I have news about the PMSA project,” I say when I take a seat. “I was able to synthesize the final compound with a decent yield and confirmed it through carbon and hydrogen NMR. The only thing left to do would be HRMS to confirm the molecular weight.”
A look of surprise crosses Dr. Anderson’s face before it turns into a bright smile. “Isn’t that amazing! Worth a good scream, I’ll admit.” He chuckles. “Well, congratulations on getting to the end of your synthesis. I always knew you could do it.”
I must be an emotional wreck today, because that last line sets off a waterworks of emotions behind my eyes.
Countless times, I’ve tried to believe in myself, and while I do in some moments, that voice of self-doubt always creeps its way in. Hearing such praise from someone so knowledgeable and good at what he does—lost grant aside—means more than I could have ever imagined.
“Thank you.” I accept the compliment with a smile, holding the words close to my heart.
“As you know, the next steps will include giving the compound to one of our biologists for assays and determination of biological activities. But in the meantime, you can get started on writing its synthesis for that portion of the upcoming paper.”
I mentally high-five myself—second first-author academic paper here I come! One last, and I’ll be on my way to graduate.
“And while I know this offer is a little at the last minute, and you declined it the first time, I’m sure I could call in a favor and sneak you in for a talk at ISCS now that you have new data.”
The International Symposium on Chemical Sciences is the largest global annual chemistry conference. And this year, it's taking place in Italy. Dr. Anderson asked me if I wanted to attend when it was first announced, but I declined under the guise of not having anything new to present.