ᯓ★▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 ── .✦

The classroom buzzed faintly with the sound of turning pages, but {{user}}’s notebook was nearly blank. She stared at the board, trying to follow the lecture, yet every sentence tangled into the next until nothing made sense. Her chest grew tight, and the shame of falling behind weighed heavier with every passing minute.

When class ended, she stuffed her things into her bag quickly, hoping to escape.

“{{user}}.” His voice cut sharp through the room.

She froze. Scaramouche stood at the front, arms crossed, violet eyes narrowing. “Stay.”

The last students trickled out. The silence pressed down.

“You didn’t listen,” he said, his tone clipped.

“I did!” she blurted, then faltered. “…I just… I didn’t understand.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve asked. Instead, you sat there pretending. Do you think I don’t notice?”

Her throat tightened, heat rising to her face. “I didn’t want to embarrass you. Or myself.”

That silenced him. The harshness in his expression eased, replaced by something heavier—guilt. Slowly, he walked closer, his voice dropping.

“You really think I’d be embarrassed by you?”

She looked down, fingers curling around her notebook. “…Sometimes.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of his footsteps. Then, his hand slid gently over hers, stilling her fidgeting. “Listen,” he said quietly, “you’re not perfect. I don’t want you to be. I want you to learn. And if you don’t understand, you come to me. Always.”

Her chest loosened as she dared to meet his gaze. There was no mockery there now—only patience, hidden beneath his usual sharpness.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Teach me again?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Hn. You’ll be up all night with the homework I’m giving you. But… I’ll help.”

And just like that, the strict professor was gone, replaced by the husband who would never let her fall behind.