Lucian

College didn’t feel as terrifying as people said it would. At least, not yet.

The halls were buzzing, students clumped in circles like they’d known each other forever even though it was barely 9 a.m. I didn’t really talk much unless I had to, but I could hold my own. People called me friendly. I called it survival.

Room 206.

General Science and Engineering Physics.

I pushed open the door and picked a spot two seats from the back, near the window. A few students were already chatting, some scrolling through their phones. A group across the aisle was arguing over whether the teacher would be chill or one of those professors.

“I hope it’s someone young,” a girl whispered to her friend. “Not another grey-haired bore with chalk dust on their sleeves.”

I half-smiled and opened my notebook, sketching aimlessly while the noise filled the room.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open—and a girl walked in, laughing softly as she chatted with a few other faculty just outside.

She wore wide-legged black pants and a soft, oversized cream shirt tucked loosely at the waist. Her black hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands falling around her face. No makeup. Just clear, glowing skin and that confident, effortless kind of beauty that makes you forget to breathe for a second.

Definitely a student.

That’s what everyone assumed—until she turned around, stepped into the room, and said, “Sorry I’m late. First-day chaos.”

She gave us a small, apologetic smile that made my stomach twist a little. “I’m Daphne Mehra, your faculty for this course.”

The whole room blinked.

“What?” the girl next to me whispered. “She’s the professor?”

Daphne laughed gently, like she’d been through this a hundred times. ““Yeah, I know. I don’t look the part. I get mistaken for a student at least twice a day. Also still get carded for R-rated movies, if that helps.”

Someone from the front row blurted, “Wait, how old are you?”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, amused. “Twenty-four. Relax, I’m qualified.”

Everyone laughed. She had that easy way of pulling people in without trying too hard.

“I’m not going to start teaching today,” she continued. “This is just day one. You can ask me anything—about the course, about the weird things I’ve seen in the lab, even about how many times I’ve set off the fire alarm on accident. Let’s keep it chill.”

The tension in the room melted like ice in sunlight.

And me?

I was gone.

I watched the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, like she meant it. She didn’t even look my way again, but I was already watching like I’d known her face forever.

I don’t know when it happened exactly—maybe when she said her name, or maybe when she laughed like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone—but something in me just… shifted.

Like I was falling.

Not in the dramatic, movie kind of way. Just this low, humming feeling in my chest like don’t look away.

Maybe I imagined it—but I swear, for a fraction of a second, her gaze landed on me. Long enough to make me sit up straighter. Long enough to hope she’d look again.

I didn’t even know her.

But something told me I wanted to.

Dhapene

First days were always weird.

No matter how many times I told myself I’ve got this, there was always that one moment—just before walking into the classroom—where I had to pause, breathe, and remind myself I belonged here.

I was twenty-four. Young for a faculty hire, even younger for someone teaching science and engineering physics. And on top of that, I looked like I still needed permission to leave campus for lunch.

Which was why I dressed my way—baggy, comfortable, clean. Wide-legged pants. Oversized tucked-in shirt. Messy bun. No makeup. Just skincare, the usual. I didn’t care about impressing anyone. Not with clothes. Not with a mask.

Still, I could feel their eyes when I walked through the building. Half of them probably thought I was a student. A few other faculty even waved at me like I was one of theirs. I didn’t correct them. It always made the reveal more fun.

I lingered in the hallway a bit too long, catching up with Kalpo and Ayaan. Kalpo was rambling about some department chaos. Ayaan teased me about being late to my own class.

“I’m not late yet,” I said, checking my watch. “Okay—now I am. Shut up.”

They laughed, and I finally slipped through the classroom door.

Students were already seated. Some chatting, some glued to their phones. Heads turned as I stepped in. I could feel the curious glances, the subtle once-overs. I was used to it. I ignored it.

“Sorry I’m late. First-day chaos,” I said casually, walking to the front. “I’m Daphne Mehra, your faculty for this course.”

Silence.

Every single pair of eyes blinked like I’d dropped a bomb. Someone near the window straight-up gawked.

I smiled softly. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I don’t look the part. I’ve been mistaken for a student at least twice today already. And yes, I still get carded at the movies.”

A student in the front blurted, “Wait—how old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” I replied with a chuckle. “Relax. I’m qualified.”

Laughter. Tension breaking. That was better.

“I’m not here to bore you on day one,” I continued. “This is your warm-up. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you weird lab stories, or why I banned energy drinks in my classes last semester. Let’s keep it light.”

As students warmed up and began chatting, I let myself relax—just a little. I wasn’t nervous. But there was something about walking into a room where no one expects you to have authority that always made me stand a little taller.

Then my gaze drifted.

Second row from the back. By the window.

A guy. Headphones in, not playing anything. A notebook open, pen resting on the page like he’d just stopped mid-thought. His black hair was soft and a little messy, like he’d run a hand through it before walking in. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes… they were sharp. Watching.

He didn’t look away when I caught him staring.

Most people do.

I didn’t let it show, but something flickered in my chest. Interest? Maybe. Curiosity? Definitely. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He wasn’t talking, fidgeting, laughing too loud like some of the others. He was just there—quiet, steady, like a pulse.

Something told me he’d be the one I’d remember after this class.

I looked away before I could wonder why.

Lucian

Second day of college.

Same hallway. Same backpack. But this time, my pulse picked up as I walked toward Room 206.

It wasn’t nerves.

It was her.

I’d barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept hearing her voice. That calm, teasing tone. “Relax. I’m qualified.” Like she didn’t need to prove anything—but somehow still did.

I got to the room early, again. Same seat. Window. Second row from the back.

A few students trickled in, chatting about her. “Can you believe she’s twenty-four?” “She’s kinda cool though.” “I wish all teachers were like her.”

Yeah. Me too.

I tried to focus on my notebook, but nothing came. No sketches, no words. Just this hum under my skin, like I was waiting for something I couldn’t name.

And then the door opened.

She walked in like she wasn’t even trying—and still made everyone look.

Today she wore a fitted black turtleneck tucked into loose tan slacks. Classy. Clean. Hair down.

Wait—hair down.

Her half-wolf cut framed her face perfectly, soft and wild around the edges, cascading over her shoulders like she’d just stepped off a magazine page. No messy bun today. And for some reason, that change made my stomach tighten.

She greeted the class with that same soft confidence. No rush. No need to raise her voice.

“Good morning,” she said, setting down her bag. “I see some of you are awake. That’s a start.”

The class laughed.

I didn’t. I was too busy staring.

She made a few announcements. Something about lab groups, a syllabus that still hadn’t been uploaded, and how she’d allow food in class as long as it wasn’t “noisy, smelly, or explosive.”

I smiled at that.

And for a moment—just a moment—her eyes flicked to mine.

I didn’t look away.

Neither did she.

Not right away.

Then she blinked, looked down at her tablet, and cleared her throat. “Right. Let’s start with something easy.”

The next forty minutes blurred. Equations. Diagrams. Her voice guiding us through it all. I was taking notes, but I couldn’t stop noticing the way she moved—precise, deliberate. Like she belonged in every room she entered.

And every time she turned toward the board, her hair shifted slightly, catching the light. It was stupid. Ridiculous. But it made me want to reach out and—

No.

Don’t go there.

She was my professor.

Still, as the class ended and students began packing up, I stayed seated, moving a little slower than usual.

Just in case she said something.

Just in case she looked again.

And when I stood, slipping my bag over one shoulder, she glanced up from her desk.

Our eyes met.OUR EYES MET-

She gave me the tiniest smile—just a flicker.WAIT WHAT-

And Man I swear it stayed with me the rest of the day.