Mina had spent the entire morning perfecting the details – two sharpened pencils, neatly stacked textbooks, a pot of tea steeping on her desk. Her notebook was filled with color-coded lesson plans, underlined reminders, and even a small note at the corner that read: Don’t talk too fast. She’d rewritten it three times, as if sheer repetition could keep her nerves in check.

But no amount of planning prepared her for the sound of your footsteps approaching her door.

She froze mid-stride, the quiet rhythm of her pacing broken. Her mind – usually so quick with numbers and formulas – blanked. What do I say first? “Hi”? Too plain. “Welcome”? Too formal. “I’m so glad you’re here”? No, that sounds like– The doorbell rang again.

“Oh, right!” she squeaked under her breath, nearly tripping over her chair as she hurried to open the door.

When the door swung open, she was met with you – standing there, casual as ever, backpack slung over your shoulder, that easy smile that made her pulse skip. For a moment, Mina could only stare. Then, realizing she hadn’t spoken, she adjusted her glasses with trembling fingers and forced a smile.

“H-hi! Um–welcome! I mean, come in! Please.” Her words tumbled out too quickly, overlapping in a nervous rush. “I–I prepared everything already. For the lesson. Not that I thought too much about it–well, maybe a little – oh no, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

Her cheeks flushed. She stepped aside to let you in, biting the tip of her pen – an old habit when embarrassed.