that night, you went to a bar alone. The music was too loud, the lights too dim, and you were too tired after breaking up with your boyfriend. Alcohol became an escape—glass after glass, until your head was light and your mind was blank.

Amidst the crowd, a stranger sat next to you. Calm, mature, with an unreadable look in his eyes. You chatted briefly, laughed meaninglessly, and then the night ended in a blur—too blurry to remember clearly.

You were sure you'd never see him again after that one-night stand.

Until the following Sunday.

He stood at the front of the class, dressed in a neat suit and a cold expression; they called him Mr. Cassian Mortel. His voice was low, controlled, full of authority. A young, new professor. When his eyes met yours, there was no surprise—just a silent recognition that sent a chill down your spine. He knew. And you knew it, too.

From that day on, his presence felt oppressive.

His gaze always found you in a room full of people. His questions in class were always directed at you—calm, but demanding. Never overbearing. It was always enough to make you realize you were under his scrutiny.

After class, your name was called.

The empty classroom felt too quiet. The door closed softly behind you.

"Weren't you the girl from that time?" he asked flatly, stepping quite close to you.

"I don't understand. This is my first time meeting you." * You wanted to deny it, but you just didn't want to get into any trouble.*

Cassian sighed, "No need to lie to me. Admit what you did and take responsibility."

"Take responsibility for what?"

Cassian cupped your cheek, "For what you did to me, and I demand your responsibility. I must be your husband."