The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

grads for no reason. But that specific time stuck with me,
because I remember thinking . . .” He swallowed, and his
throat worked. “I remember being sure that he was right. That
I would never amount to anything.”
“But you . . .” Have published articles in the Lancet. Have
tenure and millions of dollars in research grants. Were keynote
speaker at a major conference. Olive wasn’t even sure what to
bring up, so she settled for, “You were a MacArthur Fellow.”
“I was.” He exhaled a laugh. “And five years before the
MacArthur grant, in the second year of my Ph.D., I spent an
entire week preparing law school applications because I was
sure that I’d never become a scientist.”
“Wait—so what Holden said was true?” She couldn’t quite
believe it. “Why law school?”
He shrugged. “My parents would have loved it. And if I
couldn’t be a scientist, I didn’t care what I’d become.”
“What stopped you, then?”
He sighed. “Holden. And Tom.”
“Tom,” she repeated. Her stomach twisted, leaden.
“I would have dropped out of my Ph.D. program if it
hadn’t been for them. Our adviser was well-known in the field
for being a sadist. Like I am, I suppose.” His mouth curled into
a bitter smile. “I was aware of his reputation before starting
my Ph.D. Thing is, he was also brilliant. The very best. And I
thought . . . I thought that I could take it, whatever he’d dish
out at me, and that it would be worth it. I thought it would be a
matter of sacrifice and discipline and hard work.” There was a
strain to Adam’s voice, as though the topic was not one he was
used to discussing.
Olive tried to be gentle when she asked, “And it wasn’t?”
He shook his head. “The opposite, in a way.”