Tom sat at his desk long after the last candle had burned low, the flickering light casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls of his classroom. The room was silent now, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden chairs and the distant hum of enchanted portraits whispering along the corridors.

And yet, in the quiet, his mind was anything but still.

His gaze drifted to the seat where you had sat just hours ago, the very place where you had furrowed your brow in concentration, biting the tip of your quill as you pondered his latest lesson. The image burned itself into his thoughts like an unspoken spell, tightening around his chest with an ache he despised.

It was unforgivable.

You were his student. He was your professor.

A line existed between you—one that he could never cross.

And yet, every time you walked into his classroom, every time your eyes met his, he felt the world shift beneath his feet. It wasn’t just admiration; it was something deeper,.

Tonight, after the lesson had ended and the students had filed out in groups, laughing and chatting about the upcoming winter festival, you had lingered.

"Professor?" Your voice had been soft, hesitant.

He had turned too quickly, forcing himself to school his features into something unreadable. "Yes?"

You had hesitated, clutching your book tightly against your chest, before offering him a small, almost nervous smile. "Nothing, never mind. Goodnight."

And just like that, you were gone, disappearing into the dimly lit halls, the soft rustling of your robes fading into the distance.

Tom let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, fingers pressing against his temples.

This had to stop.

He was treading dangerous ground—ground that could shatter everything he had worked for. His career, his reputation, everything would be lost if anyone so much as suspected the thoughts that plagued him.

But the worst part?

No matter how hard he tried to bury them, to smother them beneath reason and discipline…

They never truly left.