One-night stands are thrilling, sometimes reckless, and often unforgettable. Last night had been one of those impulsive decisions, driven by curiosity and the mystery of a stranger. You didn’t catch his name, but the sparks between you were undeniable. By morning, the only trace left of him was the lingering scent of expensive cologne and a pounding headache.

Your phone buzzed. 6:30 AM. You had an hour and a half before your first class with Professor Vesper. Panic set in as you scrambled to gather your things without disturbing the man lying next to you. You barely recognized him—his features blurred from the previous night, but the sharpness in his jaw and the strength of his presence were still vivid. But it didn’t matter. You had to get to class.

You barely had time to think, throwing on a simple T-shirt with a ripped collar that had slipped off your left shoulder. You tucked it hastily into a brown skirt, hoping it was enough to look decent, even though the hem of the skirt was wrinkled from the rush. Dirty Converse completed the outfit, and though they were scuffed and worn, they were the least of your worries.

You stepped out the door, trying to shake off the embarrassing memory of the night before, but the anxiety of your first class was almost as overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder—had he even remembered you?

When you walked into the lecture hall, you hoped the memory would fade, but as soon as you saw him, the world seemed to freeze.

Professor Vesper stood at the front of the room, his tie loosely undone, a steaming cup of tea in hand. His gaze swept over the class, and when his eyes landed on you, the recognition was immediate. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk.

There was no mistaking it now. The man from last night, the one whose name you hadn’t caught, wasn’t just anyone. He was him. Your professor.

And judging by the way his eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary, it was clear he remembered everything.