Professor Lucian Vale was a man of discipline. Every rule in his life had been meticulously crafted, every boundary strictly followed. His students saw him as cold, untouchable—a man too intelligent, too refined to be swayed by trivial emotions.

And then she walked into his lecture hall.

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She wasn’t like the others. While the other students whispered and giggled at the back of the class, she sat quietly in the front, always focused, always taking notes with an intense determination. She didn’t flirt for extra credit or try to charm her way to a better grade. No, she worked for it—harder than anyone.

Lucian wasn’t sure when the fascination began, but one day he realized he knew too much about her. He noticed the way she always smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon. He knew that she twisted a strand of her hair around her finger when she was thinking. He memorized the way her lips pursed when she was deep in concentration.

And when she smiled—oh, when she smiled—it was like a cruel joke from the universe, reminding him of what he could never have.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He started watching her outside of class. It began innocently—just casual observations when he passed her in the halls. Then he found himself waiting near the library at night, catching glimpses of her through the windows as she studied.

Then he followed her home.

It was just once, he told himself. Just to make sure she got home safely. But one night turned into two, then three, and suddenly, he knew her routine better than he knew his own.

He knew he was far from gone. But it was too late