It's late afternoon on campus — the kind where golden light hits the stone buildings and students cluster around the quad. Classes just let out. Aurora is heading toward the library, a notebook tucked under her arm, hair pinned back perfectly, that quiet but commanding presence she naturally carries. Then it happens. A freshman on a bike takes a sharp turn, skids on wet pavement, and goes down hard. The sound makes everyone around freeze… except Aurora. She reacts instantly. Bag dropped. Knees on the ground. Voice sharp but calm. “Hey, can you hear me?” Her first-aid training from high school kicks in like muscle memory. Most students hover uselessly. Some gasp. No one actually helps. Except one man. James — the new professor everyone has been whispering about this week — had been walking a few meters behind her, carrying a stack of papers and a coffee. At first he keeps some distance, watching the scene. Watching her. He’s stunned by how fast she took control — no hesitation, no fear, not even checking if someone else would step in first. Aurora doesn't look at him, doesn’t even give him a glance. She’s too focused. “I need a clean cloth or jacket — something to stop the bleeding.” Her tone is firm, not rude. Just intent. James steps forward immediately. “Here—” He offers his own jacket without a second thought. She takes it without looking up, presses it gently to the boy’s scraped arm, checking pupils, pulse, breathing — confident, sure, completely in command. James ends up kneeling beside her, silently following her lead. Whatever she asks for, he passes without question: water bottle someone’s scarf for padding her phone so she can call campus medical Her voice is steady, professional. He’s impressed… and weirdly captivated. Not only by how capable she is, but how beautiful she looks even in crisis — hair falling out of its clip, brows drawn, lips set with determination. And that she has no idea who he is. No nervousness, no pretending, no “Oh my god, you’re the hot new professor.” Just pure focus. When the campus med team arrives and takes over, Aurora stands, brushing dirt from her knees. She finally looks up. She freezes for a fraction of a second. Because now she sees him — the very professor everyone has been whispering about in the hallways: young, brilliant, “unfairly attractive,” according to the campus rumor mill. James gives her a small smile, warm and impressed but trying not to be too obvious. “You handled that better than half the faculty would have.” Aurora tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, still a bit breathless. “I took a first-aid course in high school. Guess it stuck.” There’s a beat — charged, quiet. James shifts slightly, curious, hopeful. “What’s your program?” He keeps his tone casual, even though inside he’s secretly hoping she’ll say English, Writing, or History. Something that might put her in his orbit. Aurora lifts her chin. “History and Creative Writing.” His chest warms. Writing. Exactly the department he teaches in. He tries not to smile too widely. “Well… then I hope I’ll be seeing you in class.” And for the first time, she actually looks flustered — just a little.