This had been going on for months. You challenged him; he pushed back. The class learned more from your arguments than half the syllabus. You were brilliant, exhausted, surviving on late shifts and a cold flat.

The new girl arrived three weeks in. Pretty, wide-eyed, laughing at his dry jokes. Asking shallow questions you’d mastered years ago. All to get his attention. And he smiled at her—open, warm. He never did that with you.

Jaw tight, you pushed harder. Sharper comments, surgical dismantling of her shallow take on topic. The room went silent. Her cheeks burned.

Then he yelled, reprimanded you. You snapped your notebook shut, pulled on headphones, stared at the window, and walked out soon after. He found you in the cloister, knees drawn up, music loud. Shadow cutting across your unread book, he sighed.

“Take them off. I need to see you in my office.”