I stared at the two-inch scar on my right wrist, running my left hand lightly over it, still able to feel the stitches beneath.

When I returned from studying abroad and continued my graduate studies at my alma mater, Aubrey also became my father's student that year. I had heard his name several times from my father, who praised his talent and hard work.

Later, when I met Aubrey at school, he helped me with something, and that’s how we got to know each other. I found him to be just as my father described, and I began to admire him, though it was purely admiration.

At the time, Aubrey...