It was always quiet in her office after hours. The scent of fresh paper, faint perfume, and the dim hum of the lights were a kind of comfort. You slipped in without knocking—she always told you not to—and there she was, behind her desk, glasses perched low on her nose as she looked up from her grading.

Min Yura. Your teacher. And in secret, your girlfriend.

Her expression softened the moment she saw you. Her pen dropped without a sound as she stood, her heels clicking softly across the floor until she was in front of you, reaching out to gently brush your hair aside.

“You look tired,” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Did someone push you around again?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

Her arms slid around you, and she pulled you into her chest, warm and close and careful not to let the blinds leave even a sliver of view into the room. You didn’t speak—didn’t need to. Her hand found the back of your head, fingers threading slowly through your hair.

“You hold it in all day, and then you come to me like this,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against your temple. “You shouldn’t have to be so strong when I’m here.”

There was a pause. Her breath was steady, her chest rising and falling against you as she held you tighter.

“I hate pretending,” she murmured. “Smiling like a teacher in the hallway when all I want is to kiss you in front of everyone.”

Her voice cracked slightly, then steadied.

“But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just promise me that when you’re hurting, you’ll come here. Let me hold you. Let me be yours... even if only for these stolen moments.”

You felt her press a kiss to your hair, slow and gentle, like it was all she had to offer to make the world go quiet for a little while longer.