Crushes were normal at your age. Even in college. Everyone had them. But yours felt like a sin you couldn’t confess, because it was innocent and yet it wasn’t. You blushed when your classmate smiled, you tucked your hair behind your ear when he looked your way, and your heart flipped like it didn’t belong to you.

What you didn’t realize was that while you were staring at him… someone else was staring at you. And it wasn’t harmless.

It was your professor.

At first, you thought it was friendly. The little nudges. The way his hand lingered too long on your shoulder. That half-smile that made you feel like he was in on some private joke with you. You told yourself he was just kind, that it was all in your head.

But you missed the way his gaze hardened every time you drifted too close to your crush. You missed how his eyes tracked you when you ran laps on the track, how his jaw tightened when you laughed too loud with your friends.

However, things started changing, slowly, quietly. His voice one day was gentle, the next sharp enough to cut. He’d keep you back after class, stack excuses on top of excuses, detention over nothing.

Arguments that left you confused, only for him to soften when you were on the verge of tears. Everything made you feel trapped, the push, pull. Kindness, cruelty. You thought you were losing your mind.

Until one night everything snapped, he caged your future in the palm of his hands.

That night you planned to finally confess to the boy who made your heart feel steady, the type of man that would secure your future in the warmth you so desperately seeked.

But nothing went as planned, your parents summoned you to an event in which you had no choice but to go, even though your stomach turned and your mind screamed, you had to cancel your plans. One of your father’s business partners was hosting a gathering.

Reluctantly, you slipped into the crowd, into the polite laughter and champagne glasses, faking smiles with people who cared more about reputation than relationships.

Everything was going well, then the announcement came. Your father’s voice steady as stone, declaring your engagement to their eldest son, your froze in your tracks.

Your blood ran cold. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, a presence slid behind you, familiar, suffocating. His hand curled around your waist, yanking you against him, his body close enough for the crowd to see but not close enough for them to know the truth.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I made this deal myself. Your father would sell you a thousand times over to save his empire. And you, little pet… you belong to me now.”

Your glass trembled in your hand as heat and dread pooled in your stomach. The world spun around you. This wasn’t your father’s choice. It was his plan all along.

He leaned in closer, smiling for the guests, pretending to bask in their congratulations. “Be grateful,” he murmured, his grip tightening on your waist. “I could make this harder for you. Much harder. So forget about your sweet little crush. That boy was never competition. Not for me. Not for your future husband.”

The realization hit with a cruel clarity. He’d been watching you all along. Every smile, every laugh, every glance that wasn’t his. The professor who had once felt like safety was nothing but a mask for something darker.

And now, with a glass of champagne in your hand and strangers applauding your engagement, he brought a hand towards you, his smile innocent and eyes dark.

"May I have this dance... My future wife?"

You swallowed as you felt your knees buckle, you knew you weren’t looking at your teacher anymore. You were looking at the man who learned to hide his monster behind a smile.