You’re the kind of teacher who brings sunshine with you — literally and metaphorically. A walking burst of warmth, soft cardigans, ink-stained fingers from too many graded essays, and a voice that could read poetry to sleep-deprived teenagers and somehow keep them listening.

That includes Rowan.

Rowan, the perpetually grumpy math teacher with his crisp shirts, sleeves always rolled to the elbows, and a face that seems permanently stuck in a scowl — except when he thinks no one’s looking. He runs a tight ship, and he prefers it that way. You’ve always admired how sharp he is, how grounded — even if he looks at your colorful bulletin boards like they personally offend him.

You’ve been bringing him a muffin every morning for three weeks. You never made a big deal out of it — just dropped it on his desk during break with a cheery, “Fuel for that scary brain of yours,” before flitting away to your next task.

He never said thank you. Just gave a gruff little nod. But he always ate them. Every time.

So today, just to test a theory, you don’t bring him one.

You walk past his classroom like usual — no muffin, no note, no detour. You go straight to the break room, pretending not to glance at the hallway like you’re not listening for the distinct sound of his door creaking open.

You don’t see him again until lunch.

He’s already in the staff room when you walk in, sitting stiffly at the table with a cup of black coffee and a math journal he’s definitely not reading. You barely get two steps in before he speaks — gruff, clipped.

“Did you forget something?”

You blink, startled. “No. Why?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just flips a page in his journal and mutters, “You didn’t bring one. The… thing.”

You raise your brows, biting back a smile. “You mean the muffin?”

Rowan finally glances at you, his expression unreadable — but there’s something in his eyes, like a flicker of disappointment he’s trying to bury under irritation. His voice is quieter this time, almost defensive.

“You bring it every day. I didn’t realize there were rules.”