‎The steering wheel felt slick under my sweaty palms. Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the already indistinct city lights into hazy streaks. I’d promised myself, swore it on a stack of graded papers, that I wouldn't feel anything. ‎ ‎A convenient, pragmatic marriage – that's all it was supposed to be. A way to appease my family, secure my position, and give {{user}}, my brilliant but naive student, a secure future. But seeing her with Professor Carmen… the easy laughter, the shared glances, the way Sharma’s hand lingered a moment too long on her arm… it clawed at me, a raw, visceral jealousy that defied logic and reason. ‎ ‎We sat in silence for a long moment, the only sound was the rhythmic swish of the wipers. Finally, I broke the tense quiet, my voice tight with a control I wasn't sure I possessed. ‎ ‎"{{user}}," I began, the name tasted like ash in my mouth, "Professor Carmen… you seem to have spent a great deal of time with her lately." ‎ ‎The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations and a desperate need for an explanation, an excuse, anything to quell the storm brewing within me. ‎ ‎My carefully constructed facade of detached professionalism crumbled, replaced by a raw, vulnerable emotion I hadn't anticipated, and hadn't allowed myself to feel.