Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 26

26

Hannah

It’s Monday, and my heart feels like it’s been put through a shredder. I stand outside Johan’s classroom, taking deep breaths, trying to summon the courage to walk inside. My palms are sweaty, and my stomach churns with a mix of dread and heartbreak. I push the door open and slip inside, avoiding eye contact with everyone as I find a seat near the back. The classroom is filled with a low buzz of conversation. Everyone is wondering the same thing: will Johan show up today, or will he continue being absent like last time?

The minutes tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. I try to focus on my notes, but my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The sight of his empty desk at the front is a constant reminder of everything that happened. The memory of his text from last Wednesday—“One day, you’ll understand why I did what I did”—still haunts me. I blocked him right after, unable to handle any more of his cryptic nonsense.

The door finally swings open, and Johan strides in, looking composed and confident as always. My heart clenches at the sight of him. How can he stand there so unaffected while I feel like I’m falling apart?

Class begins, and I try to focus on my notes, but my eyes keep drifting back to him. His voice, once soothing and familiar, now feels like nails on a chalkboard. I can’t stop thinking about that weekend, how tender he was, how he made me feel like I was the only one that mattered. But it was all a lie. I feel foolish, used, and utterly heartbroken.

Johan clears his throat, drawing the class’s attention. “I apologize for my absence last week,” he says, his tone calm and professional. “I took a few days off to work on some projects for my PhD and…to enjoy time with my new fiancée.” He smiles, and the class erupts in cheers.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to vomit. The room spins, and I grip the edge of my desk, trying to steady myself. My vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall. While everyone is cheering, I glare at him, hoping to catch his eye, hoping he’ll see the pain he’s caused. But he doesn’t look at me. It’s like I don’t exist.

I can barely breathe, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. How can I continue attending his class? How can I sit here and pretend like everything is normal when my heart is shattered into a million pieces? The thought of seeing him with Astrid, of hearing about their plans and future, is unbearable. And I can only imagine how they were enjoying their time….

Johan continues with the lesson, his voice a distant hum. I can’t concentrate. My mind is a storm of memories and regrets. I feel trapped, suffocated by the walls closing in around me. Every word he says is a reminder of what I’ve lost, of what will never be.

As the class finally ends, I gather my things, my hands shaking. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face him twice a week, to pretend like I’m okay. But for now, all I can do is leave, putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that somehow, someway, I’ll find a way to survive this heartbreak.

It’s been a week since I learned about Astrid and Johan’s engagement and a week since I had the drunken, middle-of-the-night courage to block Johan’s number. I’m struggling, and I’m not embarrassed to admit it.

School has been a nightmare because Johan is everywhere, both in my mind and on campus. Class after class, his presence is a glaring, painful reminder that he chose Astrid. Our time together, which meant so much to me, clearly meant nothing to him.

And Astrid. Kind, perfect, beautiful Astrid doesn't deserve a future husband who has slept with her friend behind her back. But it’s not my place to say anything. Astrid isn't stupid, and she’ll figure out eventually that Johan is a liar.

Even worse is the fact that he hasn’t tried to reach me at all. I haven’t unblocked him, but he could’ve emailed me or messaged me on socials. And he knows where my dorm is. Hell, if he was desperate, he could probably call Elise to get a hold of me.

But Johan isn’t desperate. In fact, it seems he doesn’t care about me at all, which is probably the truth. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be engaged to Astrid.

After the shock wore off, the anger set in. My life feels like it's been put on pause. I’m a spectator in my own life, watching everything unfold and feeling helpless to change it. And there's no one to blame for my own misery except myself.

I knew Johan Bentinck was bad news when he kept up the situationship with Astrid despite giving me attention. Yet, I allowed myself to fall for him, hook, line, and sinker.

I have no one to blame but myself, and it makes me so angry that sometimes it's all I can think about—angry at him for stringing me along, angry at Astrid for being so nice and sweet, and angry at myself for getting involved.

But I’m also exhausted. This heartbreak and anger, this rollercoaster of emotions, has taken everything out of me.

My mother sent me a few texts checking in, but I ignored them. I know she’s worried, and it makes me feel like the world’s worst daughter, but I don’t have the mental capacity for even a pleasant conversation.

I have a lull between classes when I get a text—this time, not from my mother but from Conrad.

Conrad: I’m not trying to be weird, but look behind you and to the left.

Confused, I do and see Conrad sitting on a bench with a book open in his lap. He’s smiling and raises a hand in greeting. A large part of me wants to give him a dismissive wave back and continue on my way, but I know that would be rude. He is in no way related to my misery, and there’s no reason for me to be unpleasant towards him.

Resigned, I paste on a smile and make my way towards him. It’s a lovely day despite the freezing air, and the sun is shining through the clouds. Conrad meets me halfway, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey you,” he starts as we share a quick hug. “Care for a walk?”

I make a show of checking the time and then nod. “Sure, why not?”

Conrad doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not my usual chipper self. We walk a bit in silence, and then he stops suddenly and turns towards me. “How are you doing? I’m sure you’ve...ah...heard the news by now.”

“Is that what you were trying to tell me the other day?” I ask, remembering how he walked me to class and the somber look on his face.

Conrad nods. “Yeah, but I wanted you to hear it from Astrid directly so it didn’t sound like gossip.”

I swallow and then say, “And I did.”

“Oh, so you spoke to her?” His eyes start scanning my face. “And how did it go?”

“She asked me to pick out envelope colors for her engagement party invitations.” I can’t help that distaste that creeps into my voice or the way saying the words makes my nose wrinkle up.

“And that...bothers you somehow?”

Conrad isn’t stupid. He's actually much more astute than I originally assumed, considering that he wanted to warn me about the engagement before I heard from anyone else. He has to know that things are more complicated between Johan, Astrid, and me than it appears from the outside.

“Yeah, it does bother me.” The urge to tell him the truth, to spill my guts to him, is strong, but I resist. It’d only end in more heartache, so I go the more logical route. “I mean…they were just casual, what, like last week? And now they’re engaged? Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

Conrad frowns. “Well, maybe. I don’t know; honestly, their relationship is none of my business. Johan hasn’t really talked much about it. I know him, and when he makes up his mind about something, he goes full steam ahead. But Astrid is smart. If she’s okay with it, who are we to judge?”

“We're her friends,” I snap.

“Wow, okay. Why are you so pissed off?”

“Because…because…” I wave my hands in the air in front of us as we walk, trying to get a point across that I’m not even sure of yet. “Because there’s something wrong with this whole thing, Conrad! I know I’m not the only one who sees it. And I’m sick of people lying to me and hiding things.”

I don’t look at him, but out of my peripherals, I can see him turn his head to look at my profile and his dark brows drawn together in sympathy. Conrad takes a deep breath like he’s considering something and then makes up his mind.

“You’re right,” he says, casting a cautious look around us. “I heard Johan proposed because Astrid’s dad literally owns the Bentincks—financially, I mean.”

This stops me in my tracks, and when Conrad looks back at me, his expression is serious.

“What...what do you mean?”

He sighs, glances at both sides, and, stepping closer to me, he lowers his voice almost to a whisper. “The Viscount Goschen has a lot of money, like ridiculous amounts. Johan’s dad accumulated a lot of debts—to the point of almost going bankrupt, and Astrid’s father paid them off. It isn’t common knowledge, but my family runs in similar circles, and word has been going around. As soon as Astrid’s father cleared those debts, everyone assumed it was only a matter of weeks before Johan and Astrid announced their engagement. Why else would her family have done such a thing?”

I’m flabbergasted, steps stumbling and mouth hanging open as I try to make sense of it. Conrad fumbles in his bag and hands me a bottle of water, and I gratefully take a few sips while I collect myself. This is all new information to me. New and shocking.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” I finally manage to get out, an edge of hysteria in my voice. “No! I refuse to believe this, Conrad. What does buying debts have to do with marriage?”

“Well, Astrid gets the man she loves as her husband, and the Bentincks get their debts paid off and money flowing in. Sounds quite obvious to me.”

“That's horrendous!” I’m starting to see red, anger, and disbelief at both the Bentincks and Astrid’s father over what the plan is—or rather, was for Johan and Astrid. “And Johan is going along with it? Just like that?” All of a sudden, his distance and radio silence start to make sense. Could Johan...be hurting? Missing me the same way I miss him but unable to tell me? It’s an addictive thought that I can’t give in to right now. “No one should have to marry for the sake of money.”

Conrad laughs, bitterness creeping through the sound of it as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his beige chinos. “Welcome to the world of British peerage.”

I shoot him an incredulous glance. “I grew up among Dutch nobles, and I never met anyone not marrying for love.”

“Yes, but this is different,” he points out as we resume our walk. “It’s one thing to be the pampered child, doted on and loved. It’s another to be the heir and have everyone waiting for you to live up to their expectations.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right. Suddenly, memories of my oldest brother, Andries, flood my mind. He was disowned for the simple crime of loving Roxanne. Dad didn’t even show up at their wedding. It makes me wonder how things might have unfolded if our family, like Johan’s, had been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. “Fair enough, I guess,” I mutter, the initial shock of Conrad’s revelation beginning to ebb, giving way to a wave of understanding.

Then, another memory surfaces: my father attempting to pair Andries with the daughter of a high-status family while Andries was quietly pursuing Roxanne. Despite my initial belief to the contrary, I realize how similar these realities are.

I turn my full attention back to Conrad, who has been content to let me sort through my thoughts as we stroll through campus. An idea strikes me so hard that I can’t let it go. “Conrad, I need you to talk to Johan on my behalf. Can you do that?” I glance down and see the outline of his phone in his pocket. “Can you call him for me?”

Conrad inhales and then blows his breath out slowly. “Hannah, whatever you’re about to do, I’m sure it’s a mistake. Johan and Astrid are a good match. It benefits them both to go through with this.”

It’s not surprising that he’s responding like this, but I’m not done pushing. “But he doesn't love her!” I insist. “We’re supposed to be her friends, Conrad. How can you be okay with Astrid marrying someone who doesn’t love her?”

“Hannah,” His voice is gentle, a bit contrast with mine. “You don't have to pretend that she’s your main concern.” I try to push back, but he interrupts me and continues to speak. “Look, I know Johan. And I know you’re worried about him. He’s going to be fine. Once he gets married, the debts will be completely lifted, and his family will be able to financially recover. Once they are back on top again, he’ll either get a divorce or get a side chick…just like our king.” Conrad shrugs, and while he tries to sound light about everything, there is a weariness in the lines between his eyes.

I shake my head in disgust. “That’s revolting.”

Conrad chuckles, keeping his tone light and humorous. “That’s British nobility for you. Marriage for status, affairs for love.”

“Well, Johan deserves more than just the status,” I protest. “He deserves to find love and be happy.”

Conrad’s look is sympathetic, and it grates on my nerves. “Are you sure it's not just you who wants him to be happy and in love with you?”

My cheeks go pink, and my jaw drops at his words. “I want everyone to be happy, Conrad. Including Astrid.”

“Hm.” Conrad looks at me for a long moment. “Would she be happy if he told her exactly that? That he doesn’t love her and they both deserve real love and left her right now? Or would she be devastated?”

“She’d…she’d be okay. Eventually.”

He chuckles, head shaking. “I bet her dad would sue Johan’s whole family for breach of contract or something.”

“Breach of contract?” My mind is reeling, trying to catch up. Conrad is talking like all of this is just a business transaction. And…I suppose, in his mind, it is.

“Hannah, you worry too much.” He places a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “At least the two of them liked each other well enough before all of this. Hell, they had a summer fling that was all their own decision. They will be fine.”

But Johan and Astrid liking each other isn’t enough. I think of Johan’s face, smiling in the morning light as he lay in bed next to me. The sensation of his lips on my skin, trailing down my neck. The way he whispered my name like a prayer….

Something is building inside of me. A fire. A purpose, all wrapped in typical Van den Bosch stubbornness.

Conrad is not going to be my ally in this crusade, but he isn’t an enemy, either. He’s a friend, one who is trying to help me in the only way he knows how. Conrad can only advise me through the lens of the world he has grown up in. He thinks everything he’s saying is normal and acceptable. That isn’t his fault. It might shock and upset me to hear him try to brush this all off as some expected thing, but Conrad isn’t saying it to hurt me.

“Walk me back to my dorm,” I tell him finally. “I have a lot of things to think over.”

Conrad moves the conversation to easier things—my classes, current world news, and music. He’s easy to talk to, and by the time we make it to my building, I realize he has helped me calm down and get out of my head a bit.

“Thanks for everything,” I say as we stand in front of the building entrance. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Anytime, Hannah.” He smiles and gestures towards the door. “Go on, take some time to decompress. I'll be around if you need me, okay?"

I nod and go upstairs, back into my dorm. There, I make a cup of tea and sit on my bed, curled up with my phone and contemplating my next move. Filled with resolve, I unblock Johan and call him before I can chicken out.

I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer, but this time I leave a voicemail. “I know why you proposed to her. Johan, you’re making a huge mistake. I can help you! Please pick up the phone.”

I try to call again a few times, finally sending him a text with the same message as my voicemail before finally deciding that enough is enough. If he isn't brave enough to face me over the phone, then he’s just going to have to face me in person. And if Astrid is there this time, then I’m just going to have to make her leave. Because this conversation is going to happen, whether the two of them like it or not.

According to Johan’s schedule, he’s at his office in the archaeological department for the next few hours, so that’s where I go. Determination keeps my spine straight and my mind focused, even when I arrive and one of the faculty members pulls me aside before I can get to the back part of the building where I know Johan is.

“Miss,” he tells me, stepping into my path while looking sheepish, “may I help you with anything?”

It wouldn’t be hard to step around him and continue on my way, but since I don’t want to make a scene, I try to be more diplomatic about it. “Oh! I’m just looking for Professor Johan Bentinck. He teaches one of my classes, and I have a few questions about an important assignment that is due soon. He said we could come and find him if we needed help. Do you happen to know where he is?”

The lie rolls off my tongue as smooth as silk, and the researcher buys it immediately. “Ah, okay. That makes sense. Right this way.”

“Thank you so much.” I follow him down the hallway, and we pass by several offices and open doors. Johan isn’t in any of them, but finally, the faculty leads me around the corner, and we reach a set of large double doors.

The man knocks, and I hear Johan’s familiar voice inside. Even the sound of it has my blood heating. I’ve missed him terribly.

“Yes?” Johan calls from the other side.

“Johan, it’s Lukas. One of your students needs to talk to you. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure, send them in.”

Lukas pushes the door open, and there he is. Johan has his back to us, hunched over his desk, and his lab coat is hanging loosely from his broad shoulders. He doesn’t turn around, and Lukas steps aside, letting me walk in alone.

“Thanks,” I whisper to Lukas, and he nods, but Johan somehow hears the whisper and looks over his shoulder. His expression goes from neutral to equal parts joy and dread. He whips back around so I can’t see his face anymore and addresses Lukas only.

“Actually, I just became very busy. Please escort her out.”

Oh, no. We are not doing this. Not after I’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to have a few words with him. Johan can try to run from me, but I’m not going to let him.

“Please, Lukas,” I speak up, giving him a beseeching look, “Just give us a minute. We’ll be quick, and then I'll leave. I promise.”

Johan’s posture is rigid, but he doesn’t say anything.

I step past Lukas towards Johan, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. “Professor, it's really important. I really need to talk to you.”

He sighs heavily and then turns fully towards us, reluctantly nodding to Lukas. The man looks between the two of us a few times before finally backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Now, we're completely and utterly alone. I want to slap him across the face. I want to throw myself into his arms. I just want him, all of him, violence and ecstasy and grief and anything else he has to throw at me. Any piece of Johan is better than being without him.

He speaks first. “Hannah, you shouldn’t be here.”

There’s no reason to go about this gently or to talk ourselves in circles. Not when we both know exactly why I’m here. “I know you got at least one of my messages. You’ve got to cancel the engagement.”

Johan holds up a hand to stop me, but I’m not done. Not by a long shot. “Put your damn hand down! This is absurd, Johan!” My own hands are in fists, balled at my side. “You don’t even love her!”

He shakes his head once, and for the first time, I notice how exhausted he looks. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks like he’s lost weight. “Hannah, I can’t have this conversation with you?—”

I’m getting angrier by the second. “Then who will you have it with? Yourself? Astrid, when you’re both old and gray and realize you've lived an entire life without love?”

“I’m doing the right thing,” he insists.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me a lie straight to my face!” I point at myself for emphasis, chest heaving. “Conrad told me everything about your family’s debt and how Astrid’s dad bought it out in exchange for you marrying her. You aren’t a pawn on a chessboard. You don't have to sacrifice yourself for your father or anyone else.”

“And what? Let my family crumble under unpaid debts? Sell the home estate my family has lived in for six generations?” Johan demands. His eyes, up until now, have been dark and empty, but now there are embers of fury inside of them. Whether he’s furious with me, Astrid, or the shit situation their families have put them in, I’m not sure. “We’re all pawns, Hannah, in some way. You’re just too naive to see it yet.”

I flinch, the words hitting home, but soldier on. “If you need help, then I can help you! My family can buy out your father’s debt instead. Van den Bosch industries is thriving; we have the money?—”

“Money is not the issue anymore.” There’s a world of unsaid things in his gaze, but he doesn’t utter them. “The engagement has nothing to do with the debt, Hannah. I can assure you that’s not why I proposed.”

“So why then?” I demand.

“I can’t tell you,” he says curtly and then picks up a stack of papers on his desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“You can’t––!? Johan, I swear to God!” I reach out and grab the papers right out of his hands, tossing them back on the desk. “You better speak.”

“Damnit, Hannah.” Johan's jaw is clenched, his body coiled tight.

“Tell me why!” My voice echoes off the stone walls of the room, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms as I have to stop myself from reaching out to shake him. Anything to get an ounce of honesty. “Do you love her?”

Johan is quiet, and he takes a step back, noticing how close we’ve become during the argument. He licks his lips, looking away from my face, and I watch as his hand twitches like he wants to reach out for me. But he stops himself, the appendage falling back to his side.

“I do.” The words hit me like a punch to the stomach, stealing my breath. “I realized Astrid is the right woman for me. I’m sorry, Hannah…I’m sorry?—”

All at once, the breath I thought I’d lost comes roaring back to me. “I don’t believe you!” I’m practically shouting, and Johan gives me a withering glance towards the door. The fact that I’m about to get kicked out doesn’t dampen my fire at all. In fact, it makes me burn brighter. “I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, Johan. So, spit it out. Do. You. Honestly. Love. Her?”

“Yes!” he roars back. The word bounces off the walls and makes my ears ring. Johan’s expression is pained, but not nearly as pained as I feel. My whole body is vibrating with misery, with confusion.

I want him. He wants Astrid. It’s so clear and so wrong.

“You’re lying,” I tell him softly. “And even if you’re not, then you’re a coward.” Then, so much softer, with all the affection that suddenly has nowhere to go, I add, “What happened to you?”

Johan looks at me with so much yearning that I’m thrown back to that night in the pouring rain, his hands on my face, his lips slanting over mine. When did he look at me like that last? When was the last time his eyes filled with passion and pain in equal measure? When was the last time he touched me? God, I want him to touch me right now.

“What happened to me?” he echoes, resigned and empty. “I’ve come to a point where I have obligations towards my family, and I have to face the music. I’m going to marry Astrid.”

“Obligation!?” My nails bite harder into my flesh. “You’re throwing everything away because of your sense of obligation!? And what about Astrid? Doesn’t she have a say in it? What about you and what do you want? What about me?”

“You don’t belong here,” Johan hisses.

“Of course I don’t fucking belong here.” There are tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “This place is awful! You and Astrid are so unhappy. Everyone is miserable.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are!” I cry. “I’m standing in front of you, and you’re still not happy. It’s not too late, Johan. Please. Call it all off. Come back to my dorm with me, or to your house, or somewhere, anywhere, and let's just lay in the dark together. Forget all this and just…just––”

“Just what, Hannah? Avoid the real world until it comes busting down our doors, dragging us out, kicking and screaming?” He shakes his head again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s time to go. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

My mind tells me over and over that he’s lying. He doesn't want her, doesn’t love her. Why won’t he see sense? I have to do something, anything, to make him see reason.

My feet carry me the five small steps towards Johan until only physical inches separate us, even when it feels like imaginary miles are keeping us apart. I raise my hands slowly, like he’s a horse ready to spook, and lay my open palms on either side of his chest. The half-moons where my nails have been biting into me are red on the paleness of my skin.

He jolts when I touch him like my touch is painful. Which it might be, honestly. Because simply feeling the heat of his skin underneath his shirt is exquisite misery for me.

“Don’t,” Johan hisses, eyes shut tightly. I ignore his protest, my hands trailing up his pecs, over his collarbones, and along his neck, until I can cup his face the same way he did mine that rainy night.

“Look at me,” I demand. He shakes his head, the stubble on his cheeks scraping against my palms, and I repeat myself. "Why are you doing this to us?”

“There is no us ,” Johan whispers. For a moment, I see cracks in his facade. I feel his energy shift, the subtle change of his body as it leans towards mine, into my hands, but then he reigns it in as hard as possible. He says nothing more, stepping back and away from my touch, closing his eyes as he does so. Lines bracket his mouth from how much he’s holding himself back.

I give a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and harsh in the quiet room. “Astrid even asked my opinion on colors and themes for the engagement, you know. It’s ridiculous.”

Johan’s eyes flash with something between guilt and anger. “Hannah, enough.”

“Can you imagine?” I ask, searching for his gaze. “Me helping plan your engagement party and maybe even your wedding? Maybe I should do so as a reminder of your poor choices.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice breaking.

But I can’t stop. I can’t stop the pain, the anger, the sheer frustration. “What happened to you?” I repeat, my voice cracking with emotion. “You used to fight for what you wanted, for us.”

“I’ve said my piece,” Johan tells me with finality. “You may go now. Before I call security.”

His last words hit me like a punch to the gut. The shock of his coldness leaves me momentarily paralyzed. I never imagined he’d threaten me with security. I stand there, stunned and heartbroken, before turning on my heel and walking away from his office. Each step feels heavier than the last, my vision blurring with unshed tears. The hallway stretches endlessly before me, the echoes of our argument ringing in my ears. With every step, the weight of rejection settles deeper in my chest, the reality of his words sinking in. I reach the exit, the cold air hitting my face, but it does little to numb the pain. I keep walking, leaving the archaeological department behind, but knowing the heartbreak will follow me wherever I go.